WHO: Frank Castle & Karen Page WHAT: Having lunch alone, for once~~ WHEN: before the Atlantis stop; approximately 1 week into the cruise WHERE: Pacific Rim restaurant WARNINGS: implied stuff about murder, but nothing descriptive
On the ship, with their rooms so far away and their schedules relatively free (except for Cassie, with her school day), Frank had gotten in the habit of catching Karen - and usually Madani - for at least one meal per day, just to check in, make sure everyone was alright. Something about being contained on a ship just didn’t feel right. There was too many ways things could go wrong. Of course, that was true anywhere. But there were a lot more places to run when they were on the ground instead of the ocean. Checking in and eating together was a good routine that made Frank feel a little less antsy. As Lieberman would have put it, it was a routine, a pattern, that made him feel more comfortable. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, so Frank tried to maintain watchfulness, while also letting himself relax a little bit. He relaxed enough to lose track of the days of the week, although he’d kept count of the days they’d been aboard the ship. Eight days in, and the pattern was slightly disrupted: Cassie was in school, Madani was busy, and he’d had to change the reservation at Pacific Rim from four to two. He didn’t really like having to deal with the concierge to make reservations all the time, but he didn’t like the assigned seating in the Compass Rose, so this was the only way to get a table to themselves. And it was nice, for once, to have a moment that was just him and Karen. They hadn’t had many moments alone since Cassie had arrived, and Frank wasn’t complaining about that, especially since they’d had the network for any communication they couldn’t do in the kid’s presence. It was only now, already more than a few bites into his plate of chow mein (when it was suddenly silent, because they’d both started to eat), that he actually noticed that this was something new. It also made him overly aware of the fancy setting, the table he’d chosen in a corner with more privacy - so they wouldn’t be overheard - and the wine glasses that were still on the table even though, seeing as it was only lunchtime, he hadn’t ordered any wine. It wasn’t quite how he would have chosen to spend time with her alone, if he’d really been thinking about it, just like maybe he shouldn’t have gotten drunk on wine with Lieberman’s wife, but… Karen was a lot more complicated. He twirled his fork to get a new mouthful of noodles, and considered his next words carefully. Finally, he said, “So… you’re holding up alright?” It seemed worthwhile to check in, to see if there was anything she hadn’t wanted to share in front of Cassie or Madani. Frank trusted them both, but the trust between him and Karen ran even deeper, and he couldn’t really speak for Karen’s trust in either one of them. -- Karen had long since become used to the non-permanence of life in Tumbleweed, Texas, and it seemed that even going back home and returning didn’t change that. She’d barely begun to get used to being back when things had changed again, in several ways, and there had been little else for her to do besides going with it. Barely a month later, and she was once again on a cruise ship, as she had been almost a year ago - but nothing was like it’d been back then. Her cabin mate seemed nice, and she slept most nights in her own room, but after everything that had happened in New York, just knowing that Frank was nearby but not across the hall like in Tumbleweed, she’d felt a little bit of anxiety, and made a habit of trying to see him - and Cassie, and Dinah, and Elektra and Trish - fairly often while on the ship. Between that and teaching journalism (even if it was just to one student), she managed to keep herself reasonably distracted most days. One of her favorite parts of those days, though? Sharing a meal with her friends. At the moment, she was eating with Frank, which was...not quite awkward, with it just being the two of them, but - surreal, for her at least. She’d gotten used to others being around, or simply being in much more casual settings than they were at the moment, and the thought struck her that this actually almost felt like a date, which was odd to contemplate. As Karen glanced across the table at Frank, she dipped a piece of chicken into the sauce on her plate while searching for a topic to discuss. Just as she was about to come up with one, he thankfully broke the silence, but she took a moment to eat the chicken on her fork before answering. “Yeah - yeah, I am. But I can’t help but be a little nervous about this...entire situation, after what happened last year, on the Prettiest Star. I keep waiting for killer robots to jump out of the walls, or pirates to storm the ship.” -- “Mm,” Frank agreed. He hadn’t been around for the killer robots and the pirates, but he couldn’t say it really surprised him. “It’s a good place for an ambush.” The thing about boats was that the approach was the only hard part. On a boat this big, it would be hard to tell from the outside how many people - or robots - would be defending it, how big of an armory they had. But they hadn’t been on this boat at the launch, and there were four no-access floors near the bottom. Whatever ambush was waiting for them could easily be on the boat already. Hell, the boat itself could be an ambush. It might be programmed to go down like the Titanic. He glanced around them, then added, “I assume that’s why you still carry your purse with you everywhere.” -- She’d been exaggerating about the killer robots, but since he didn’t ask about it, Karen didn’t elaborate, instead nodding at his words. “True - but at least here it’d be pretty easy to push the bad guys overboard. In space it would have been hard shoving them out of an airlock, you know?” Karen flashed a quick grin, then picked up her iced tea and sat back for a long sip. At Frank’s next words, one hand idly touched the strap where it hung on her chair, and she gave a small shrug. “Pretty much - that, and I’m pretty sure you or Elektra would give me disapproving glares if I didn’t have it.” Plus, it wasn’t as though she could always count on someone being around to rescue her, if she needed to be rescued. Which she hoped she didn’t. And that brought her around to something else she wanted to talk to him about. Sitting up again, Karen met his eyes. “So there was something I wanted to ask you for. A kind of favor.” -- Frank smiled at that, and nodded. It was, in fact, precisely what he would probably end up doing if someone were to attack them on the ship. It would be the easiest way to get rid of them. Unless of course they were attacked by the Hand, in which case he would have to burn them by dumping them overboard. He didn’t particularly want to think about that, but it was harder to shove it out of his mind than it should have been, since Karen mentioned Elektra’s name in the next sentence. Frank had never quite decided what to think of the woman, and their only real conversation since he’d arrived here really hadn’t helped matters much. A small furrow appeared in his brow, even before Karen asked him for a favor. He put the bite of chow mein in his mouth and chewed it, but it didn’t taste quite as good as it had a moment ago. “Yeah?” he asked, feeling a little bit of dread. “What’s that?” -- Karen set her glass down and picked up her fork again for another bite, though she studied him curiously when he seemed to be suddenly a little - not nervous, exactly, but something - in regards to her words. “It’s nothing major,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I was just hoping that maybe you could...teach me to fight? I’ve been learning off and on from Elektra, but I know you both have very different styles, so I’d like to learn from you too, if you’ve got time.” She took another bite of her food while watching him hopefully, a little curious as to whether or not he’d agree. -- That wasn’t what Frank had been expecting, but then, he hadn’t really known what to expect. Something that he might not enjoy, at least, although in retrospect it was ridiculous that he’d thought this favor might be anything like Elektra’s. Karen had always asked him not to kill people. “Of course,” he answered. With a slight smile, he added, “I think we’ll have plenty of time now that we’re on vacation.” Not that he had really been very busy before. He’d picked up a construction job, since it was his main skill that was acceptable in normal society, and he looked after Cassie, but he had time. Certainly time enough to fit a few hours of training in a few times a week. And now he was curious, for more than one reason: “How would you describe Elektra’s style?” -- “She’s...a ninja, basically,” she replied with a half laugh. “I think that’s the best way to describe it? Have you ever seen her fight?” Karen had seen the TV show and had seen Elektra there, and she’d learned from her over the past few months, but her style was different enough from what Karen could do that she was glad that he’d agreed. “Anyway, you’re probably right about our time. I mean - I teach Betty journalism, but other than that, a few hours a week, I’m basically free. Which you know, by now, of course.” Karen gave a small shrug, then smiled at him. “Just don’t go too hard on me, okay?” -- “That’s probably who she was trained by,” Frank said, a little wryly. He paused, and then nodded. “A little bit. On the rooftop.” If he’d started shooting a little earlier, he might have prevented her from being stabbed. But he hadn’t known who she was, and she and Matt had been holding their own for a while without his help. Then she’d gone down, and Matt had been on his own against four, and he probably could have taken them all out, but it would have cost him time, and the fifth would have gotten away. “Fighting lessons sound more fun than towel folding,” he said, his smile reappearing. “I won’t go too easy on you, either.” -- “Good point, she was. But anyway, one thing I am most definitely not is a ninja, so...I figure I might have a better time with you? She’s taught me a little kickboxing too, if that helps.” Though that had been months ago, so Karen honestly wasn’t sure if it still counted. A soft chuckle at his words, and she nodded. “I think we can both live without towel folding. I’ve never quite understood the point of things like that.” -- “Everything helps,” Frank said with a slight shrug. “If it makes you stronger, faster, gives you better reflexes, muscle memory, it helps.” He took another bite of his noodles, this time with a bit of shrimp (because if there was one thing a sea cruise should have, it was good seafood, and so far he hadn’t been disappointed). He chewed it thoughtfully, considering how he should train her. His training had not been pleasant; it wasn’t the military’s way to treat their recruits kindly. He didn’t feel like he could be her drill sergeant, but he didn’t think he would have to. She was invested in her own safety, she would take him seriously. “You’re mainly interested in this for self-defense, right?” Frank’s training had leaned more towards the offense side of things, although he also had learned to hold up under torture. But the best defense was a good offense, as lots of people liked to say, so he thought he could teach her what she wanted to know. -- She was a little skeptical about her own abilities when it came to being stronger or faster, but she hoped that the better reflexes part of it would at least make a difference, so Karen just nodded her head before eating a few more bites of her own food, relaxing in her seat. Her eyes lifted and drifted across the room to study a few off the other diners - all people she either knew or at least recognized from around Tumbleweed. It was a little strange not to see normal customers, people whose faces she didn’t know, but at the same time it made everything seem just a little more intimate. Looking back at Frank when he spoke, Karen nodded again. “Pretty much. It’s not like I’m going to go running around town beating people up on principle.” She flashed a smile at him. “But even though Tumbleweed is a lot safer than New York, there are still the occasional muggings and other crimes. I don’t want to be seen as a target.” She was tired of being a victim. -- Frank shrugged. “Never hurts to know self-defense. You never know when you’re gonna need it. And if this place is anything like Mt. Weather, shit could come at us out of the blue, from the portal.” He gave her a long look, remembering all the times she’d been in trouble - at least the ones he knew about. He had been there for a lot of that, and the target on her head was often related to her involvement with his case or her involvement in issues that related to him. Eventually, he said, “Yeah. You’ve had more than your fair share of that.” -- “True - and it does, sometimes, though not as bad as what I’ve heard about Mt. Weather. I’m kind of glad I don’t remember being there, with how intense it all sounds.” Finishing off her chicken, Karen switched to her rice, still fully content to take her time with the meal while spending time with Frank. At the look he gave her, Karen narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at him. “No - I know what you’re thinking, Frank, and trust me - A lot of messed up shit happened to me before we ever met. The year before, actually - when Wilson Fisk was trying to take over Hell’s Kitchen? There were things that happened then that have nothing at all to do with you. In fact, that’s how I met Matt and Foggy - Fisk was framing me for murder.” -- “I wasn’t there long,” Frank said. “But long enough to get a feel of the place. Intense is a good word for it.” He got her look, and briefly looked away, inclining his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. He wasn’t necessarily blaming himself for anything - if she’d died, he would have blamed himself, but she was still alive - but he wasn’t going to argue with her anyway. He hadn’t heard this part of the story, though. He leaned on his elbows to look at her more intently, his food momentarily forgotten. “Why would Fisk frame you?” Wilson Fisk was a man who would do plenty of horrible things, including convincing Frank to take the fall in court so that he could get Frank on the inside in Riker’s Island, but he was Frank Castle. His trial had been all over the papers, all over television. Before then, especially before she’d even gotten involved with Hell’s Kitchen’s finest lawyers, Karen would not have been someone on Fisk’s radar - so far as Frank knew. -- “I worked in the financial department at Union Allied Construction, before I met the guys. They were overseeing the bulk of the government contracts for the West Side reconstruction, after the Battle of New York - the one where the Avengers fought those aliens. Anyway, it turned out that they were actually laundering money for Fisk. I was accidentally emailed a file that had sums in it that were way too large and I told my direct boss, but he laughed it off, so I decided to tell someone I knew in the legal department, Daniel Fisher.” Setting down her fork, Karen picked up her glass and took a long gulp, her eyes falling to the table as she sat back. “I was drugged before I could tell him about the file, and when I woke up, we were in my apartment, and he was dead. My hand was on the knife and I had his blood all over me, which of course is when the police kicked the door in.” Letting out a slow breath, her gaze lifted to Frank again. “Matt and Foggy took my case pro bono, since I didn’t have any money to pay them. They actually said I was their first client. And the rest is history, more or less.” That was an understatement, because there was a lot to follow that had happened next, but she wasn’t sure how to even begin telling him about it. Briefly, she thought of the man she’d killed: James Wesley. Her eyes fell again, darkening a little as she took another sip of her drink, but she didn’t feel guilty. She remembered how Claire had reacted when she’d told her about it, and she hadn’t ever touched on it with Matt - but Karen knew that if she told Frank about it, he’d probably be proud - and he wouldn’t judge her, for killing that man. -- Frank didn’t have anything to say to that, but he grunted in acknowledgment. It sounded like something Fisk would do, and it also sounded like something Karen would do, to try to bring the truth to light. He smiled, just a little bit. “If you were their first client, what was I, their second?” he asked, amused. “They really know how to pick ‘em, don’t they. And you always knew how to dig up the truth.” He watched her face, she had, unsurprisingly, grown a little emotional at the retelling of her past. He couldn’t blame her for that -- if he thought about it too much, himself, his trigger finger started to itch, eager to put a bullet in Fisk’s brain. But there was nothing he could do about that from here, and he didn’t want to ruin the dinner by talking about it. He watched her drink, though, and asked, “Should we order something a little stronger?” -- “No, you were about a year later,” she replied with a grin. “They had a lot of clients in between, usually ones who weren’t really able to pay - we ended up with a lot of casseroles and cookies and pies for a while. Plus - chalupas and pierogies and just about any other ethnic food you can think of.” Karen shook her head in remembrance, then pushed her hair back from her face, setting her glass down again, a little more slowly this time. Shaking her head at the question, Karen made herself push away the uncomfortable memories, and smiled at Frank. “No, I’m fine - and it’s still a little early in the day, for me. Thanks, though,” she said as she started in on her food again. -- “At least you all got some normal,” Frank said, with a slight smile. He knew Murdock had likely been doing his Daredevil thing during that time, which meant his life hadn’t necessarily been normal, but it sounded like Karen’s had possibly been more normal than not. Better than working for any company related to Fisk, anyway. He simply nodded, glad that she wasn’t feeling the need to drown her sorrows. He’d never been particularly inclined toward drunkenness, although he was sure some people would argue that alcoholism would have been a healthier coping mechanism for him than murder. He twirled some more noodles on his fork, and contemplated whether there was anything else to be said. Nothing came to him immediately. -- “Yeah, some normal is better than none at all.” Karen returned his smile, settling back into her chair. As they let the silence stretch between them, she actually didn’t really mind it, but after several minutes it started to feel a little awkward once again. Finally, she glanced at his eyes again and moved on to another conversation topic. “How’s Cassie doing? She’s just starting classes, right? It has to be difficult to adjust going back to school after all she’s been through, especially in a non-traditional environment like a cruise ship for only four hours a day.” -- Frank nodded. He was considering whether to tell her that he’d tried his hand at normal, working construction, until that poor kid had gotten in over his head and Frank couldn’t stand by to watch him get killed. But Karen started talking again before he said anything. “Yeah, they were on break before we got to the ship,” he said. “So she’s just starting out. It’s an adjustment.” He shrugged. “But I suspect after a while on this ship she’ll be glad to have something to do. Boredom’s gonna set in sooner or later.” -- “At least she’ll have something to do. The rest of us may have problems with our own boredom, considering the fact that we don’t have jobs here. There’s only so long some of us can stand a life of leisure, right?” She grinned at him before finishing off her food, very clearly meaning him rather than herself. Sure, eventually she’d get bored, but right now? Sunning daily by a pool was a nice vacation from her very confusing life. -- “Yeah,” Frank agreed. “I’m still trying to figure out how I fit into that.” He didn’t feel like he had to give any further description besides that; Karen knew full well how abnormal his previous life had been. He took a drink from his water glass and considered. “You know, I, uh… I tried. Before. After I finished with the Mexican cartel, before Lieberman found me, before everything with… Billy, and Madani… I took a break. Tried to do construction work, keep my head down. Even before I got pulled back into everything, there was a stupid kid there, got in over his head with two of the workers that were into some bad shit, and…” He shrugged again. He probably didn’t need to describe precisely what he’d done then, either. He settled for, “Couldn’t sit back and let them kill him. Then I had to move on.” He paused. “Wasn’t really normal, though. Didn’t feel normal. Shitty apartment, waking up, doing the job, going home, going to sleep, I guess that’s all normal, just…” He trailed off. He didn’t know precisely what he was trying to say. It wasn’t the nightmares that had made it feel all wrong; maybe it had been the false name, the pretense of trying to live somebody else’s life. “Anyway. Don’t remember if I told you that or not.” -- Karen nodded her understanding at his words, and before she had the chance to respond, he continued, and tilted her head as he listened to him. He wasn’t one to talk a lot at once, but when he did - what he said mattered, and she appreciated him opening up. She could easily picture what he’d done, but she didn’t fill in the blanks out loud. It was better to let things like that go unsaid right now. Reaching out after he finished, she touched the hand on his glass. “You didn’t, no. And - that was something, Frank, but it wasn’t really normal, and you know that. It was going through the motions, getting by. But it sounds like you’ve got more of a chance at real normal here, you know. I don’t think Cassie’ll let you fall back into that kind of situation, to be honest. And neither will I - and that’s a guarantee.” -- Frank looked at her hand on his, but he kept his hand still, neither moving away nor moving to hold her hand in return. There was a lot they could communicate by touch, and he took it as a supportive gesture, which he appreciated. He looked back up at Karen as she spoke, briefly looking away to think once she’d finished. “Don’t know that I’ll ever really be normal,” he said, and he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Cassie doesn’t know how to have a normal life again either, that’s why we work. We push at each other to do things that we should be doing, but that doesn’t make us normal.” He felt a little as if he was responding to a question she hadn’t asked, or the idea she had posed to him awhile ago, the idea of having an after. “It helps, you and her, you help. But it’s still going through the motions. Maybe they’ll start to feel normal, but I don’t know for sure that something else isn’t gonna catch up to me. Or that something new won’t happen.” -- “I don’t know if you ever will be either - but I think it’s about finding a new normal. Something that works for you - finding things to care about so you’re not just getting by the way you were for that construction job.” A part of her knew that Frank would never have what he had years ago, but she still hoped he’d find some kind of happiness. When he said that she and Cassie helped, her lips twitched a little and she gave his hand a soft squeeze, then let go to pick up her own glass. “I know right now you’re both living life while waiting for the next shoe to drop, but I just hope that both of you can find something good to hold onto.” Lifting her glass, she took a long sip, then set it back down. “You both deserve it, even if you don’t think that you do. Just trust me on this.” -- “Deserving and getting aren’t the same thing,” Frank said wryly, but he was smiling a little. He appreciated the sentiment, and coming from Karen it didn’t sound as ridiculous as it might have sounded coming from anyone else - even Murdock. She was too practical, had seen too much, to be stupidly optimistic. It was part of why he trusted her. “But I guess we’ll see.” -- “But you might,” she replied. She really wasn’t the type to be blindly optimistic, not after everything she’d been through - but life in Tumbleweed had taught her to at least keep an open mind. Yeah, there were losses - Mordecai was a pretty big one - but she could get over them, and move past them. And she thought Frank might be able to, also. “Yeah, we’ll see,” Karen said, then stretched slowly. “Alright, I think we’re finished lunch. I guess we should probably get going?” Though if he wanted to sit there longer, she was more than willing to do that. -- “I might,” Frank conceded. He could at least see the possibility of it, which was more than he’d ever been able to concede to her before. He had a feeling she was pleased about that, since she’d consistently told him that it was what she wanted for him. It wasn’t what he’d wanted for himself before, but now that he had given up the opportunity to die while finishing his battle, he had to be open to other possibilities. He speared the last few noodles on his plate, just remnants really, and ate them, not wanting to waste the food. He washed them down with a swallow of water, and then nodded. “I’m ready to go.”