Chapter 5

There are cans and bottles set up all over logs and stumps. It's late enough that they won't wake anyone when the sound carries, but early enough to still breathe in the brisk chill on the edge of every breeze.

"Pick one and shoot so I can see your form."

"You've seen my form." She says innocently because they're both aware she means this in more way than one.

He grins. "Show me."

She matches his grin and shoots. She, of course, doesn't miss. She licks her lips and aims and shoots at a bottle this time. The satisfying sound of glass exploding causes a surge in her blood and she takes the rest of the bottles out, one by one until all six are shards. Seven shots total.

"You hustled me."

Oh right, she bet him she could hit three out of 5.

"Beginner's luck?"

"How well do you do with moving targets?"

"I don't know - go run around and we'll find out."

He shakes his head and has to laugh a little. Serves him right for making assumptions.

"How did you learn?"

"It was one of the first things I did after I got settled here in the city - I found a range that set me up with an instructor and she was very good." She's pleased with herself and why shouldn't she be?

"Smart...I suppose I owe you an apology, ma'am."

"You don't ever have to apologize to me." It feels good tossing his words back at him because she means them.

"How about combat?"

"I tried taking self-defense courses, but the instructor was handsy and I dropped it. ...never picked it back up. ...It's weird, you know? Trying to- hitting people that have done you no wrong. Seems like something that should be fueled by adrenaline and not a sweaty instructor telling you to take out your opponent. I could never let go and ..." She trails off knowing he'll fill in the blanks.

"Yeah, when you put it like that." He has a funny look on his face that's a mix of confusion and adoration. "Then uh, how would you feel about working with me? If it's not your thing then it's not your thing."

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?"

"You just said-"

"I'm willing to try again. With you."

Her eyelids feel weighted and her body like one big pounding ache. She wants to sleep for days.

"Will you sleep with me?"

He chokes on his coffee. Honestly, why is he drinking coffee at 10:00 pm?

"Buy a guy dinner first." Wow, what a dad joke. Or is it? Do dad's joke about being bought a meal before putting out? Probably.

"I wouldn't come out and ask you to have sex with me, Frank. I mean literal sleep. Snores and dreams sleep."

"I know what sleep is, thanks."

She's not sure he does. His eyes and pallor tell a different tale.

She stands and holds out her hand for him.

"You're moving easy." He watches her for a moment before taking her hand and standing.

"It's just a flesh wound." She drops his hand and walks off towards the bedroom, knowing he'll follow her. She could be walking into the depths of hell and he'd follow her. Thankfully, this is just a bedroom.

"I don't sleep." He says once they reach the bed. She crawls onto the bed and gets comfortable, looking up at him.

"You will. C'mere." She's doing this for him as much as her. That intuition of hers is screaming at her, saying all he needs is someone to care. To see him. To accept him, as she's done, and assure him he can breathe easy. Easy enough to let his mind slip away from his right or wrong doings and just be there with her.

He lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling, unblinking. She rolls towards him and situates herself against him, wincing against the pain.

"You shouldn't-"

"Well, I did."

She falls asleep quickly and wakes a few hours later to a screaming neck and shoulder.

He's asleep. Breathing softly and on his side now with his back to her. She must have rolled away from him. She sits up a bit to see if the dogs are with them and they are - Blue raises his head to see if she's going to get up and lowers his head when her head reconnects with her pillow.

Her phone call to Ellison goes horribly as she predicted. He's all worry and she is thankful to have people that care, but really she just wants to get off the phone and enjoy some time alone.

She's back in the city, at her apartment, in her clothes, and freshly showered.

She knows Frank will be back, but in the meantime she's going to catch up on the news, update any of her articles that need updating before she delegates the work to her co-workers (Ellison's orders).

She's not happy about this. Not at all. Stupid fucking junkie and his stupid jerk knife. She has a life to live, corrupt shit she needs to report. She pleaded with Ellison, but he told her if she turned anything in for next week he would trash it.

One whole week. One whole week of doing what? Resting? She's terrible at resting. She'll lose her ever-loving mind.

There's a knock at her door.

"Karen, open up. Ellison said you're here." It's Foggy.

Oh, Foggy.

She opens the door, bracing herself for the guilt. "Hey, come in." She steps aside and he moves past her quickly, shutting the door behind him.

Something stops the door.

The Punisher's boot. This should be fun.

Her brain betrays her and an old Girl Scout tune pops into her head, 'make new friends, but keep the old...' She covers her mouth to keep from laughing. Maybe shouldn't have taken that pill.

Foggy turns to see what has the door jammed and turns white. He steps away from the door and looks to Karen for an explanation.

"Foggy, you remember Frank..."

"I'll come back later." Frank speaks only to her.

Her. That's what got them into all this to begin with.

"No, don't be ridiculous. I was just going to make some coffee." She busies herself with the coffee maker and tells them to sit down.

Frank sits on her couch. Foggy doesn't move.

"You- you're- alive."

"No I'm not." He's not being deep. He doesn't want to be on anyone's radar. Well, except for hers.

"But I- you're RIGHT THERE. ...Karen, what the hell?" Poor Foggy. "Are you- okay, what is going on? You got stabbed!"

"How did you know that?" Frank's question is gruff.

"Her boss..." Foggy is addressing her now. "I called your office like, seven times because you weren't answering your cell. People shoot at you a lot, Karen...I was worried." He looks like he might cry. She goes to him then and wraps her arms around him. She waits for the pull of her stitches but it never comes. He softens and pulls her close. "You can't do that to me. You're almost all I have."

Frank is quiet. He keeps his gaze on the floor in front of him.

"I know. I know it was awful of me not to tell you. It all happened so quickly and Frank was there and- I'm okay now." She exhales slowly.

He pulls away and looks between Frank and Karen. "So, Frank's dead, huh?" This gets Frank's attention and he looks up at Karen.

"Yes. He's- no one can know. Please?" She pleads earnestly.

"This is- Karen, you're harboring a-"

"Dead man." Frank cuts in.

"Listen, to everyone else outside this room you're The Punisher. Some people mourned your death, but others...they celebrated. There was talk of a parade." Karen looks disgusted. "And then there are those that think you're still alive."

"People think Elvis is still alive. What's your point?" Frank is on his feet. Foggy flinches but he moves past Foggy for the coffee.

"My- my point is this- you haven't disappeared. Your death has only added to your intrigue-" Frank rolls his eyes, "you think I'm joking? There are blogs dedicated to you. There are whole fan groups obsessed with everything about you. Women- God, the women..."

Karen is doing her best to seem impassive. Frank is sipping his coffee.

"It's like- it's like 'Where in the World is Frank Castle?' ...people don't think you're dead, Frank. They think you're hiding and you ARE. ...This- this isn't good."

Karen's impassive turns to slight panic and worry. Frank is sipping his coffee.

"How are we gonna- we have to make him dead. Like, dead dead." Foggy is pacing now, burning a path into her already worn carpet. "Unless-" he stops in front of Frank. "Do you want to come back from the dead? Make it official? ...I would highly advise against it."

"I do that and what? Every cop in this city has a vendetta. I say bring it on, but I don't wanna- I'm not gonna wear orange and stare at bars until I rot."

"So we prove he's dead somehow." Karen adds lamely. How in the hell would they do that?

"Or we could leave it because I don't give a shit if people think I'm alive or dead."

"Also, there's that." Foggy supplies.

Karen excuses herself and steps away to the bathroom. She needs a minute with only her thoughts. Also, she has to pee.

Foggy turns to Frank. "Can I ask you something that's had me curious since I met you in the hospital?" Frank nods for him to continue. "Is there anything you're afraid of?"

Frank half laughs. "Two things now - snakes and-"

Karen comes back into the room and Frank motions to her with his mug, "her."

It's been two weeks since Foggy came to see her and was surprised with the very much alive Punisher. Ever since then Foggy has been texting her with ridiculous ways they could prove he's "dead"

Make a Punisher dummy and hang it over a bridge. Take pictures.

Have Frank lie face down in a ditch. Take pictures.

Run him over. Take pictures.

Light the Punisher dummy on fire. Take pictures.

They have served to amuse her for the past week and she's glad he's able to joke about this instead of having a conniption.

Frank is on her couch when she gets home.

"How the hell did you manage this?" She's referring to him, you know, being on her couch without her there.

"I have my ways."

He's sitting there watching her. She's back to her pencil skirt, button down, and heels.

There's something different about him - something charged and dare she say, dangerous. To anyone else, that's how he reads all the time, but not for her.

She's going to need whiskey.

She moves to the kitchenette and finds the half bottle of Gentleman's Jack and a short glass. She pours out two fingers as she comes to stand in front of him.

She swallows the amber liquid in one toss and refills it. This time she hands it to him and he swallows it down without hesitation. He inspects the glass for a moment before handing it back.

His voice, like silk over gravel, breaks the silence.

"How's the scar?"

She pours another two fingers worth, but only takes a sip before handing it back to him.

She pulls her shirt out of her skirt while he watches intently. But she doesn't stop there. Her fingers work to unbutton the crisp, navy blue shirt she's been looking forward to removing all day.

He wets his bottom lip and shifts in his seat.

Her shirt falls away, exposing her matching navy bra with black lace trim.

She steps out of her heels and closer to him so he can inspect her scar. He's staring up at her and hands her the glass. He doesn't seem to have an interest in the bright pink imperfection at her side.

She swallows the rest of the whiskey and sets the glass on the small table next to the couch. She's now standing directly in front of him. He's still staring, breathing hard and fast.

She slowly climbs onto his lap, straddling him, her skirt inching up her thighs in the process.

He looks down at the tops of her thigh highs and smirks.

When he looks back up at her, he grabs the back of her head and kisses her hard, his other hand pressing into the small of her back, bringing her closer.

She should be nervous. All first kisses are nervous, aren't they? I mean, this isn't her FIRST KISS EVER, but it's her first with Frank.

And god damn. Her hips grind down onto him, causing him to moan against her lips. If she thought she loved his voice before? Imagine that gruff, gravelly, throaty- you get the point.

He's pushing his hands up her thighs under her (now too tight) skirt when there's a knock at the door.

"You HAVE GOT to be KIDDING ME." She's frustrated. Like, really frustrated. She was in the zone and the whiskey was making her all loose and warm (or was that Frank?) and then some asshole has the gall to knock on her very closed and very locked door.

Frank squints at the door. She thinks he may need to see an eye doctor, but he doesn't have that luxury. "Expecting company?" He says it quietly, almost whispering.

"No."

"Karen, it's Matt. Foggy told me what happened. He also said you can't be mad at him." He laughs a little. "Please open up?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "This fucking guy."

It's Frank that opens the door as Karen scrambles to put on her shirt. "Hey, Red."