Title: Lost and Found

Author: Tatiana20

Summary: Two people find comfort and something more together.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the movie, or the rights. Damn it! Oh God, Why?! sobs-stops…Excuse my momentary lapse in sanity. Just borrowing the characters for a while. mutters to self

Spoilers: There are spoilers from bits of the movie and one from the end of the film.

Rating: R

Note: First off, I haven't read anything about the Punisher. I've only seen the movie once. That may or may not explain why I got Frank's name wrong. How could I do that, you ask? Well, I personally think it was a wretched little demon that conked me out and put in a completely different name, embarrassing me before my readers; then again, that's just me. I apologize to any Punisher fans for my horrible slip-up. I've made corrections and the incredibly erroneous named character John Castle, has now been switched back to the real deal, Frank Castle. Again, sorry for the confusion. Oh, and to those who had not read my fanfiction at all, and therefore didn't know that I had made such a ridiculous mistake, I just revealed my embarrassment all over again to you turns beet red. Hope you can now enjoy my edited story without cringing with annoyance at my mortifying and completely un-fanlike blunder.

Note 2: Also, I just wanted to say that though there wasn't too much "chemistry" per say between Frank and Joan, I just thought it'd be nice to have a fanfic with them together. If any of you are unsatisfied by my portrayal of the two, please don't flame me. I'd appreciate honest, helpful comments.

Lost and Found

The rain splattered against the window, running in waves down the glass and distorting the night sky. Joan lay in her bed, her eyes trained on some unseen point on the ceiling. Her thoughts were jumbled, only slightly soothed by the sound of the heavy shower outside. But nothing could ease her troubled mind. Every one of her difficulties lay on the shoulders of one man: Frank Castle.

After she, Dave, and Bumpo had found the money that he'd left for them, she had decided to leave and start a new life. As sad as it was and as much as a she thought themselves a family, she needed to get away. It had been nine years since that day, but Joan still heard from Dave and Bumpo.

The two had moved into a one story house together, their friendship as strong as ever. Dave ran his own little business of selling computer programs and other electronic gadgets. It was small but lucrative. It wasn't that he needed the money, but it was what he loved to do. In addition to having a new home and a job, he had fixed up the damage done to him by the bastard who had been looking for Frank. His lip and eyebrow had been mended by a plastic surgeon and he had wisely stayed away from piercings afterwards. Bumpo meanwhile, was the proud owner of a restaurant downtown from her work. There he had the freedom to concoct the finest food anyone had ever eaten.

She herself worked as a secretary at a small business firm; the rest of her money was tucked away in the bank, slowly but surely building into a lucrative nest egg. She never wanted to be taken advantage of again, and squirreling away the cash would make sure that she was financially secure enough not to rely on some wolf in sheep's clothing offering salvation.

She'd also bought a cozy apartment in a nice uptown area, and though it wasn't overly large, she didn't really need it to be, it suited her needs perfectly. It had a medium sized kitchen, a small sitting area that held a sofa, couch and coffee table, and her bedroom. Her room encompassed only a dresser covered with miscellaneous possessions, a bedside table, and a queen sized bed. The lights were off now, the only illumination the candles she had lit around her room.

She was thankful for what she had and knew she wouldn't have had this second chance at life without Frank's help. She turned her head to stare out the window, though she could see nothing past the blurred casement. All she saw was blackness, exactly what she had been feeling for the past few years, despite her once desire for normalcy and constancy.

She missed him, terribly. From the moment she had seen him she had known there was something different, special, about him. And when her suspicions were confirmed and she had found out who he really was, all she had wanted to do was to offer a hand of friendship and maybe something more. But considering his family had been dead for only five months at the time, he had turned from her and she had felt guilty for trying to pull him into something he wasn't ready for.

The night he had gone to exact a crushing punishment on the men who had taken his family, she had been sure she would never see him again. He had come back alive though not whole; he was leaving once more, and she knew then that it really was good-bye.

He had told her to look in the obituaries for any news. She had forced herself not to. As much as she cared for him, she thought that if she did not search for any sign of him, that she would be free from this hold he had on her. How delusional she'd been, she mused.

A part of her told herself that she was fond of him because he saved her from a life of jackasses that beat her up and a dead end job. Another more stubborn part whispered that she adored him because of the kind of man he was. He was a wounded lone wolf, but when they had reached out a hand, he had not bitten it off. She had hoped, in the few months after he had left, that he would return to her and stay indefinitely. But as the months turned into years, she had given up hope of ever seeing him again.

He had probably gotten himself killed on one of his missions, she thought bitterly, swiping at a tear running down her cheek. Turning to her side, she closed her eyes, hoping sleep would overcome her and she could erase the thoughts of him from her head, at least till morning. Even after all this time he had the power to invade her mind.

The sound of her bedroom door squeaking made her eyes pop open and her body bolt upright in bed. She stared in fright at the figure looming in her doorway. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing could pass her closed airway. The figure moved further into the bedroom and its identity was revealed. Her eyes widened in shock and recognition.

Frank Castle.

"Oh my god," she managed to croak, "You're alive?" Her eyes drank in the sight of him. His black trench coat, black t-shirt embossed, and tight black pants cloaked him darkness; the large white skull embossed on the shirt was a stark relief against the shadows. Black hair gleamed with rain. He looked formidable. He looked dangerous. He looked tired.

He graced her with something that could be called a smile, one corner of his mouth lifted.

"I don't know if I'm what you would call alive, but I'm here in the flesh."

She couldn't take her eyes off him, the presence of him throwing her off balance. He was alive, and he was here.

"Why did you come to me, now?"

Shrugging off his long wet coat, he dropped it on the floor and fixed her with turbulent eyes. "I came because I missed you."

The blunt answer threw her off for a moment. He missed her? Her gaze sharpened.

"Did you really?"

He didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice. Walking slowly toward her, he came to the side of the bed and stared down at her intensely, eyes gleaming in the gloom.

"Yes, I did. I went out there to bring justice to criminals of every kind and I lost myself in the process. I'd come to the realization that my family was gone, that nothing would bring them back. I was ready to die. Then I remembered your kindness despite what you knew about me. That kept me going. Kept me at least partly human." Pausing, he reached down and cupped her cheek, running the pad of his thumb across her lips, causing a shockwave of emotion. "I came back for you. I came to create happy memories with you."

She looked up at him with surprise etched on her face. She didn't know what to say. Hearing her own words repeated back to her made her heart constrict. She placed a hesitant hand over the one on her cheek and lightly stroked the rough skin, setting her other on his coarsen cheek. He closed his eyes, pressing his face into her soft palm. She could see the pain engraved in his features and in that moment forgave him for all the sleepless nights she'd lost. She just wanted to wipe his agony away.

Breaking contact, she rose up on her knees until she was almost at eye level with him. She slowly reached for the hem of his black shirt, grasped it firmly in her hands and began to draw it up, revealing a muscled torso; she didn't miss the surprised look at her assent that swiftly turned heated, and he lifted his arms, allowing her to slip the shirt up his broad chest and over his head. He took over then, shrugging the shirt off completely. She let her gaze run over him and he stood silent under her inspection.

She spotted a large scar in the middle of his chest and looked at him with a quizzical expression.

"A bullet wound. I received that from the man who killed my family." He said nothing more, letting his hollow words hang in the air.

She hid her pained reaction and turned her attention back to the scar. She lifted her hand to delicately run her fingertips over the rough patch of healed skin. Then she kissed it, a light brushing of her lips that sent a soft growl rumbling in his chest.

She searched for more, her hands tenderly running over him. She found another one on his left arm. A knife wound, and a deep one at that. She continued her examination, and discovered more along his abdomen. She gingerly traced the lacerations on his hard stomach, which had him sucking in his breath at her cool touch.

It had been so long, too long and he was slowly losing the leash on his control the more she stroked him.

Joan stopped her ministrations and looked back up at him, her piercing eyes pulling him into their depths. She saw the hunger rising in him, felt his need like a hot fire burning in her hands.

Swallowing hard, she grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him to her. He climbed up onto the bed on his knees, cupped her face in his big calloused hands, and lowered his head to press his lips against hers. It was the sweetest kiss she had ever experienced, his mouth exuding gentle pressure, allowing her to pull back if she wanted.

She didn't.

She wanted more, craved more. As if he read her mind, he increased the force, telling her with words unspoken to open her mouth. She did and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into her warmth and stealing her breath. Oh God she thought. This is incredible. Then all thoughts fled her mind as he seduced her with just a kiss.

Her hands ran over his shoulders, stroking the hard muscle. He slid his hands from her face and skimmed them down her arms to clasp her warm waist. He hugged her close, pressing his masculine body against her feminine one, and causing her breath to catch at the volcanic feel of him.

He pulled back, searching her face for any sign that she wanted to stop. She couldn't have stopped if she wanted to. She wanted to heal him, wanted to erase all the anguish and death that had entered his life, if just for this night.

She slid her hands from his shoulders, across his chest, and down his stomach until her fingers found the fastening of his black pants. Staring straight into his burning eyes, she undid the button, but before she could go any further, he covered her hands with his. He turned her and gently tumbled her down onto the bed, her head now cushioned by the soft pillows.

He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots and socks and getting up to tug at his zipper and slide his pants and shorts off in one swoop.

Joan couldn't help but stare at him. Oh God, he's magnificent. Frank must have read something in her expression because his mouth curved slightly. He got back on the bed, moving to kneel in front of her and fix her with passionate eyes.

He grasped her arms and pulled her up into a sitting position, where he took hold of her thin top and extracted it with a quick movement. He tugged at her shorts, slipping it down her legs and tossing it over his shoulder. He looked her up and down, causing Joan to blush from head to toe. It was ironic, she knew; she wasn't a virgin but with Frank, it felt like her first time with the man she loved.

She slowly lay back down, drawing him down with her until he was flush against her. Wanting to savor the feel of their bodies together, he leaned on his elbows on either side of her body to give her breathing room, but no more; he wanted to feel every inch of her against his own flesh.

Her mouth was pink and moist from his kisses, and he couldn't help but bow his head to catch her lips in another kiss. She reached up and latched onto his hair, fusing them closer until she moaned with pleasure. His hands roamed up and down her heated body, generating more warmth everywhere he touched.

She couldn't stop her own hands from caressing whatever she could reach. They both were absorbed with one another, all the emotions they'd built up over the years exploding into a night they would never forget.

They memorized every line, every part of each others bodies until it was engraved in their minds.

When Frank finally took her over the edge, merging them into one flaming, pulsing essence, she was completely lost and completely his, no matter if he left her in the morning or if he never left her at all.

Frank collapsed on top of her, breathing hard and feeling replete. Joan hugged him to her, enjoying his weight on her body. The covers were twisted around their sweating forms, and they kicked them off onto the floor. He shifted onto his back and slid his arm around her while his other cushioned his head.

Joan cuddled up to his side, spreading her hand across his powerfully built upper body. She contemplated the smoothness of his skin, the roughness scar that would forever remind him of the day he lost so much. She also thought about the ramifications of what happened.

She was a twenty-first century woman. She knew that this night could just be a once in a lifetime sexual experience. She may never see him again after this. But it had felt like something more. She had sensed a difference in this encounter than any other she had ever had. It was as if they had become one in that single moment. She had an inkling that Frank had experienced the same thing, but she wasn't entirely sure.

Her insecurity must have showed because he twisted until he was on his side, his head was cushioned by his hand and he was looking down at her.

"What's wrong? You're a little tense." His eyes sharpened, a frown marring his features. "Are you regretting what happened?"

Joan had a feeling those should have been her words but pushed those thoughts aside. She decided to be completely honest, but chose her words carefully. "It's not that I regret this, not really. I'm just…concerned about where we're going with this…with us. I don't know if you're going to stay, or if you still have to go out there and do what you've been doing for the past nine and half years. I don't know if I can handle it if you do go."

His expression was neutral while he listened to her, but then his face softened and he smiled slightly down at her. Tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear, he stroked the side of her face with a gentleness that had her sighing with contentment.

"I want to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully. I left before because I wasn't ready for anything you had to offer. I had to punish the people who had taken my family from me and any criminals who would do the same to others. Don't you see, I was dead at that time. The person everyone knew as Frank Castle died when his family died. The nine years I was gone, I was lifeless, going through the motions like a robot. And I've said it before, and I'll say it again, that the thought of you woke me up. I realized I needed you, that I needed your warmth." He searched her eyes with his, trying to convey what he was feeling into words.

Joan was quiet, letting what he had said sink in. Then she whispered, "But the question still is, can you really give up who you've been for so long? Am I enough to make you stay?"

Now Frank was the one who was silent, and she could almost see the turmoil in his face as he thought about her question. However, within seconds she had his answer.

"You're part of my life now Joan and I'm not going to let you go. I'm not going anywhere. I'm finished."

Her face glowed at his answer, her joy causing him to grin in reaction. She let out a laugh and pushed him onto his back, pouncing on him like a cat and kissing his face, his hair, everywhere she could reach.

He laughed, holding her in his arms while their playful teasing began to change into something more, something out of their control.

As they become lost in each other, in the back of Frank's mind, he came to the unmistakable conclusion that he was finally home.

Six Years Later…

The sun was high and bright in the clear blue sky. The grass was shiny and the trees were full of lush green leaves. Everything was alive and beautiful. Frank Castle was sitting on a park picnic table, feeling the vibrancy of life fill his being. The cool breeze rustled his thin white cotton shirt and beige khaki pants.

He lifted his head, black hair lightly peppered with grey brushing his collar, as the light of the sun warmed his face.

"Daddy, daddy!" The tiny voice called to him, bringing him out of his meditation.

He opened his eyes and smiled wide as his little Luna ran to him on her tiny five year old legs, brown curls bobbing. Joan, his wife and his love, walked slowly behind their daughter with a basket in her slim hands, a light summer dress encasing her slender body.

Jumping down from the table, he caught Luna up in a hug, squeezing her laughing body tightly against his chest.

"Daddy, Mommy made a picnic for us!" Her bright eyes were filled with excitement and she was hugging his neck firmly.

"Really? Well, let me put you down sweetheart so I can help Mommy set it up."

Luna grinned and wiggled as he let her down and ran in the direction of the children's playground, her pink shorts and top bouncing along with her.

Frank watched with a little apprehension as she climbed up onto a platform and shouted with laughter as she went down the miniature slide.

A soft hand turned his head gently away so that he was looking at Joan instead, who went back to unloading the basket. She smiled and said, "Don't worry about her, she's inherited your tough nature. She'll be okay." When she saw the worry still reflected in her husband's eyes, she stopped emptying the case and went to him, making him sit down on the bench so she could straddle his legs and slip her arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, savoring the feel of her. He could never get enough of her. He always craved more and with her generous nature he was never want of love and affection. She understood his possessiveness and was always there to reassure him of his new family's existence.

Joan bent her head and dropped a quick kiss on his lips. "Do you know how much Luna and I love you?"

Frank grinned. "I don't know. Why don't you show me how much you love me?"

His wife feigned a prudish expression. "Mr. Castle, I am just shocked! We are in a public park where our child is present!"

He laughed, the sound rich and free; before Joan and Luna he'd forgotten how it felt to just let go and be happy. Now it was hard for him to not see his wife and daughter and smile with pleasure that he wasn't alone anymore.

Grasping the back of Joan's head, slipping his fingers through her silky hair, he pulled her down for a passionate kiss, blocking out everything but the beautiful woman in his arms.

She broke away, breathing hard. With her forehead resting against his, she whispered, "We are so incredibly blessed."

Frank seemed to freeze at the words. He lifted his head and looked at Joan, who gazed at him with a puzzled expression at his tense face.

Then he heard it, the unmistakable and eerily echoing click of a weapon being loaded and cocked. Before he could even react, a shot rang out, rumbling into the sky.

Swiveling his head to try and find where the gunshot came from, Frank at first didn't notice the stiff way Joan was sitting in his lap. Then a wheezing sound floated to his ears and he looked back at his wife.

What he saw made his entire body ice over. The front of Joan's white dress was stained with blood. His eyes met hers and he could see the utter fear in her stare. She started shaking and he pulled her close, muttering, "No, no, no, no, not again…not again…not again…"

When she started to spasm, he stiffened his arms, feeling his own body start to shudder. "Joan, I can't lose you, I can't, don't leave me, please, not again." He felt the hot tears rise in his eyes and did nothing to blot them out.

In a few seconds, Joan was motionless in his embrace, her body slumped forward and her head rested on his shoulder.

Not releasing her, he reached down with one hand and felt for her wrist. No pulse beat against his fingers. She was gone.

The roar of anguish sprung from his mouth, reverberating in his own ears. A shout from the playground mingled with him, and Frank let out a choked sound, remembering that his daughter was still out there, unprotected. The loss of his wife temporarily pushed out of his mind, he gently laid Joan on the picnic bench and ran toward his daughter.

He could see her frightened face pleading with him to hurry to her. She was stumbling in his direction, her eyes alight with tears and panic. Just as he was about to reach her, a dozen or so masked men clothed in black fatigues and shirts intercepted him, knocking him to the ground.

Dazed, he lay on the grass, trying his hardest to get his focus back. Two men grabbed him by the arms and hauled him up onto his knees, their hold on him preventing any movement. Another man was clutching Luna by the shoulders, the grip so tight he could see the pain written on her face.

The rest of the men were circled around the small group, their semi-automatics clasped up and ready.

As Luna's sobbing twisted his heart into knots, another figure walked up to the circle, and with one wave of his hand, men shifted so that he could move into the ring to stand next to Luna.

This one was masked also, but he lifted his hand and removed the black cloth.

Howard Saint. It couldn't be. Frank thought he was hallucinating from the blow to his head, but…it was him. How? Why?

Saint's mouth pulled back in a sneer. "Wondering how I'm alive Castle? Well, that doesn't matter. All that matter's is that we're back together as one big happy family, right pumpkin?" He reached out to ruffle Luna's hair. She flinched away from him.

"Don't touch her you bastard! You killed my wife! I'm gonna kill you!"

Saint grinned smugly, gesturing to the large group of men surrounding them. "Oh really? You can't touch me." To prove it, he smacked Luna hard, her head snapping back with a crack. The man holding her let her go and she dropped to the ground, unmoving.

Frank bellowed and tried to break free. The butt of a gun hit the side of his face, halting his attack. He could feel blood running down the side of his face. His vision become blurry, the figures around him nothing more than shadowy forms in the background.

"Don't pass out Castle, I want you to see something before I send you to hell."

Frank forced himself to lift his head and blinked rapidly when he saw what Saint was doing. The sonofabitch had a gun pointed at Luna.

"No! No! Don't do it!!" Frank wrestled with the arms that held him, trying to escape and go to his daughter.

Saint grinned like a madman and said, "You ruined my life, now I'm going to ruin yours…again!!"

He pulled the trigger.

"Oh God, no!" Frank reared up, reaching out for his dead daughter, his eyes closed against the horror of it. When he opened them, he didn't encounter the body of Luna lying on the grass, Saint, or the blue sky of the park.

The bedroom was shadowed in darkness, telling him it was still nighttime. Why…what? Confused, he was surprised when he heard a voice beside him.

"Honey, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Joan was sitting up, her sandy-colored hair disheveled and her face set in concerned lines. Then he remembered. He was married to Joan, had been for six years now and they had a daughter, Luna. But they weren't dead like his first family. His wife was very much alive.

"Is Luna okay?"

The question took her by surprise. "Yes, of course she's okay. Are you alright?" She sidled up close to him and smoothed his hair away from his clammy forehead, running her hand through his damp locks.

The action soothed him a bit, and he calmed himself, repeating over and over to his consciousness that he hadn't lost his family. Taking Joan's hand, he pressed a kiss into the palm, breathing in her familiar scent. Settling back into the covers, he held her close, pushing away the remnants of his dream. She snuggled deeper into his arms and sighed as she became sleepy once more.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seemed to be having a really bad dream." Her voice was soft and muffled against his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm okay." Closing his eyes and feeling the nightmare begin to dissipate, and sleep slowly drawing him into its embrace, he whispered, "For the first time in a long while, I'm okay."

Joan yawned. "I love you."

Struggling with the exhaustion creeping up on him, he murmured, "I love you too."

Finally, with his arms around his wife, Frank fell into a deep untroubled slumber.