When the Smoke Clears

Chapter 2

Frank?

Karen's whisper echoed like a gunshot through a hallway. Frank found himself wandering through darkness, sifting through endless smoke and ash in an attempt to find her.

Frank, what's happening?

The sound seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. He couldn't see her, but she was scared, he remembered. He could hear it in her voice. It was all too familiar, this act of searching. What started as a memory had become a nightmare he was forced to relive a hundred, a thousand times over the years. The scene was always a little different: a hospital, a hallway, a cemetery, but the end result was always the same. No matter how long he searched, how hard he fought to change things, Frank knew what came next. He knew what would happen if he didn't find Karen.

No, not if. His own voice reminded him. When.

His heart rate picked up as he continued to wade through his impending failure. The shadows began to shift, and he saw the faces of everyone else he let down in his life. His family, his friends; the ghosts born of all his worst moments stared at him, expectant; disappointed. Maria's gaze appeared from the ether to watch him fail... again.

Come home, Frank. She insisted. Why won't you come home?

It was a question he'd been asking himself for years. But what right did he have, to give in; to rest, when...

"Castle!!"

This time, the shout came from outside his dreams. Frank opened his eyes to the stale confines of a jail cell he'd been living in for almost two years-- since he gave up his search; since he gave up on Karen. He saw the cold concrete wall beside him, heard the voices jawing outside his cell, and all that familiar rage filled him instantly.

The Punisher sat up in his tiny cot. In the open doorway of his cell stood three inmates. They were White, bald; real Aryan types, led by a guy who thought he was the next Hitler. Frank had taken out two of their "brotherhood" a week ago. Apparently they were here to retaliate.

Why won't you come home?

This was his home now. Concrete walls, steel bars; an endless supply of criminals who wanted him dead. This was Frank's punishment; this was Frank's reward, to live out the rest of his days as the only piece of shit left when everything good in his life was gone.

"Think it's time we had a chat," one of the inmates said. He was holding a shiv. Frank could see it peeking out from the side of his clenched fist. He huffed to himself. These guys clearly weren't here to talk, but that was fine by him. He was itching for a fight; craving it. Cracked knuckles, broken flesh, they were the only things that kept the ghosts at bay.

The trio moved into the cell, quickly filling the tiny space. Two of them blocked the doorway while the one with the shiv moved closer. Frank's right fist tightened. His jaw tensed. He watched with dark, lifeless eyes as the inmate drew nearer. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like a raging river, but he didn't say a word. He didn't need to, he was ready.

The inmate with the shiv lunged at him.

Frank moved quicker than his sturdy frame suggested. He leaned back and watched the shiv swipe the empty air in front of him; then grabbed the inmate's wrist. Frank yanked the guy's arm out to the side and stepped in close to deliver a headbutt that cracked his attacker's forehead open and left him dazed. It was easy for Frank to take the shiv off him, then. He slid it right out of his grip and promptly stabbed the guy with his own weapon four, maybe five times before his buddies finally rushed in to help.

One of them caught Frank across the face with a right hook. Castle stumbled back but managed to stay upright. He dodged the second fist that flew his way and retaliated with a blind stab that caught one of the men in the chest. He pulled the shiv back with a spray of blood and then rushed forward, releasing an angry roar as he tackled the closest inmate back and into his companion. The farthest prisoner was soon sandwiched between the wall and his buddy, rendered immobile and useless and forced to watch as Frank punched holes in his friend.

When the second inmate slumped to the ground choking on his own blood, Frank focused his dark gaze on the third. The guy was quick to step away from the wall and deliver a desperate succession of punches, two to Frank's gut and another two to his face. Frank felt his lip split. He tasted blood instantly, but the adrenaline and unbridled rage made him blind to the pain. His narrow focus on the last inmate, he dove forward once more.

This time, the two collided and went tumbling. They landed on the unforgiving cement floor just outside Frank's cell and fought for possession of the shiv in a scramble of tangled limbs and wild punches. Shouts from the spectating inmates went up around them, creating a chorus of noise as Frank wrestled the shiv from his opponent's grasp. He paid the sounds little mind. An audience never bothered him. But as he drove the shiv into the inmate's neck, Frank soon realized the commotion wasn't for him.

He looked up, heaving and bloody, and saw there was pandemonium all over. People were yelling; inmates and guards alike rushing around like chickens with their damn heads cut off. There was chaos and confusion... and fear that felt strangely familiar. A sense of deja vu washed over him.

New faces were appearing all over, faces that weren't there a moment ago. Bodies were materializing, people appearing out of thin air with blank looks of confusion. The panic around him grew. An alarm started blaring through the prison.

Breathless, Frank staggered to his feet. In his mind, it was five years ago, and he was standing in the middle of a hospital room while his entire world fell apart. Now, like then, he was stunned into stillness. It had to be a lie, he thought; another dream made up by his desperate mind. But as more and more people started filling the empty space, Frank knew. This was real, it had to be. People were coming back, appearing without warning just like they'd disappeared years ago, which meant...

A pair of hands landed on Frank's shoulders, and he found himself being roughly hauled back toward his cell by two guards. Before he could register what was happening, he was tossed inside to watch the thick iron bars slide shut in his face.

"NO!" He roared. He rushed to the door, bloody hands wrapping around the bars. "Open up! Let me out of here, goddamnit!"

He yelled and banged his fists against the steel confines, but no one was listening. Frank was left to watch once again as the world descended into chaos.