When the Smoke Clears

Chapter 1

"Karen, listen to me. You gotta walk away. You gotta do it right now. That's it. That's what has to happen, you hear me?"

Frank's words were hard, but his eyes were pleading. There was desperation swimming in his dark brown, almost-black hues. It wounded Karen to see, almost mortally, if the pain in her chest was any indicator. She kept her arms folded tightly to protect herself; to make herself feel and appear stronger than she really was. Her lips were pressed in a firm line as she looked at Frank out of the corner of her eye. It was too hard to look him straight on when he said what he did. He believed those words, every single syllable of them. Karen didn't, but she was beginning to think it didn't matter. Frank had made up his mind.

Anger and nervousness swelled inside of her. How could she make him see that he was wrong? How could she show him that he wasn't the monster he thought he was? It was a battle she'd been fighting for years. She thought she'd made some progress when he started to let her in, but now it felt like they were right back to where they started, with Frank condemning himself for evils he didn't even commit. Karen sighed heavily. Her arms fell to her sides, and her resolve collapsed with them. Finally, she turned to face him.

"You don't get to do this," she said.

Frank's brow furrowed. He didn't understand.

"You don't get to....to decide who gets to give a shit! That's not on you, Frank."

"Not on me?" Frank looked to the side; huffed out a humorless chuckle. "Heh, no. No, it is on me." He threw the hospital blankets off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Because I know you, Karen. You're strong, and you're brave, but you're so goddamn stubborn; you'll do whatever it takes when it comes to me."

He paused, a smirk almost forming on his face at the defiance already building on hers. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Karen scoffed, rolling her head and her eyes to the side. An incredulous huff of laughter left her as the tip of her tongue slid along the bottoms of her upper teeth. Unbelievable, her expression said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He murmured. With some effort, he pushed himself to stand. The cuts on his face; the bruises on his body, they weighed him down, but not as much as the knowledge of how he'd gotten them. He'd been one-upped by Russo, played like a jackass; beaten. Beaten so badly that Karen dropped everything– the good, stable life she'd been building for herself– to sit by his side and wait for him to wake up.

"You put yourself before others." He said. "And I can't let you do that. Not for me."

Blue eyes, alarming in their brightness, shot towards the Punisher. "I make my own decisions, Frank."

"What do you think's gonna happen, Karen? Huh?" He took a few, difficult steps to place himself in front of her. His expression hardened. He had to puff out his chest, show his teeth; be the monster that everyone thought he was. Everyone except Karen. When she looked at him, Frank saw something else behind her eyes. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it was dangerous, because every time he saw it his heart rattled a little harder against his ribcage. He needed to change her mind; make her see him like the rest of the world did. Maybe then she'd walk away.

"There's no light at the end of the tunnel for me!" Frank growled. "There's nothing. Just black. Black and blood. And that's how I want it!"

Karen scoffed. "Oh, you're so full of shit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Frank shook his head. "Maybe I am, but that's not gonna-"