RUSTY | frank castle

TEN

"Whoa, where are you going?"

Rusty grabbed her coat as she walked past where it was hanging. "Home."

"What?"

She whistled for her dogs sharply, who looked at Frank on the kitchen island, but followed their owner to the door of the garage. 

"No, no, no. You can't leave."

"Why the fuck not?" Rusty's voice boomed through the large area. 

David got frustrated, too. "Because Frank is so caught up on killing all these guys that he doesn't even think about himself. He wakes up every night because he has nightmares. Probably because of what happened to him and to his family!"

Rusty lowered he head, closing her eyes as she stopped walking. She whispered to herself, "He's not the only one."

"Y-you are best friends, right? But you leave him when he needs you most. I know what happened to him, and to you. They wanted to kill you too, because of what you knew. You are dead in the archives, but you're alive and walking and doing what Frank and I are doing but we are close to finding the people who killed his family, and probably yours, too."

Rusty scoffed. What family can they kill if I don't have one?

"He. . . he needs you, Rusty. Because he needs something more to live for than his dead wife and children. After this, what do you think will happen to him? Huh?"

A tear ran down Rusty's cheek.

"I know you think you're protecting him but you're not. Me and him and you are in too deep. You and Frank want the same thing. Why not just help each other."

Rusty sniffled lightly, making Fender and Lexi whine at her legs.

"You thought he was dead, and you were so miserable about it. I know. Frank thinks you're dead. Don't let him be miserable, too."

    •••    

An alarm went off, signalling . . . something. It stopped the man with curly hair from playing his guitar. Rusty didn't even know what the alarm meant, but it was disturbing her peace. She looked towards the man who she had learned was called David Lieberman, and saw he had stood up. While Fender only sleepily opened one eye at the noise; Lexi became tense, making Rusty give her a few reassuring strokes on her back. 

The golden-eyed woman didn't move from her spot by the large van in the garage, but looked as Lieberman walked in Frank's direction. It must be time for his meds. Rusty pulled the sleeves of her warm shirt up and got back to cleaning one of the many guns that Frank and the Lieberman had probably managed to steal. It was a large firearm; it was heavy and the bullets were big, as well. She hated to admit it, but cleaning guns was quiet therapeutic to Rusty, and with Fender's slow snores it distracted her from her whirring mind that seemed to process everything like clicking clockwork. 

The ex-lieutenant had sat by Frank for a while at first, reminding herself of the structure of his face, and his distinct nose and goofy ears. His broad shoulders and muscled arms which she forgot the feeling of. She smiled when Lexi nudged Frank with her wet nose and Fender licked his shoulder, both of which happened ever so gently, as if the unconscious Frank Castle was a sleeping newborn. They couldn't believe he was really here, either. 

Rusty heard a nearly silent jolt, and panicked breathing. She dropped her cloth and a piece of the dismantled gun, walking to the main area and jumping up the three stairs.

"Hey, Frank. Shh." She heard Lieberman say. 

"I gotta get . . . I gotta get him."

Her dogs followed her up, their movement silent as they, too, jumped up the stairs. 

"Lay down."

Rusty's body seemed to freeze mid-walk. Her dogs, as good dogs they were, stopped by her. They both looked at her, waiting for permission to finally say hello to Frank while he was awake. He was panicking and he was disorientated, and Rusty knew she had to help him, yet . . . she somehow couldn't move.

Frozen in place, like a tree which only swayed, she was out of Frank's view. Her ears were ringing, for reasons unknown, and her breathing was deep; albeit, she ensured it was quiet. 

"Hey, Gunner's dead." David Lieberman said. It was true, though. He was a good man, she remembered him well. His accent was memorable, and his fighting, too. She insisted that the man tell her everything after he persuaded her to stay. She wanted to know what Frank had gotten himself in to. She was surprised, however, when she found out that the arrow she pulled from Frank's shoulder had once belonged to Gunner. He never seemed like the sort of man who would choose an arrow over a bullet. Yet, she underestimated him. 

"He's gonna get a proper burial."

"Thank you." Frank whispered.

A marine never leaves a man behind.

The tall woman guessed it was true -- the 'no man left behind' tale that came on under a marine's name. For her poster boy, it darn right was true. 

There was a silence, before David spoke again, "There's, uh . . . there's someone here for you."

The evergrowing silence told her that Frank was confused, but her heart was beating so fast and her blood was flowing so hard she could barely hear anything. She heard him speak again, "What'd you mean?"

David didn't say anything, but smiled lightly and walked out of the area that Frank was laying in. He met Rusty in the walkway, his robe swaying. "Go on." He whispered. 

Her legs somehow managed to move, the almost silent thump-thump of her boots and the clicking of the dogs' paws as they ran first. Frank managed to sit up, somehow. The needle still in his arm but he didn't care as the familiar dogs started licking him, jumping on him. He chuckled lightly, though he was still confused. 

Slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans, attempting to keep them from shaking and sweating, Rusty walked and leaned on the metal frame with her shoulder. She managed a smile at the scene in front of her: the dogs excited and their tails banging against everything as they couldn't stop moving from their excitement. Frank realised by then that the dogs were Lexi and Fender, his best friend's infamous dogs.

He expected not to see her - he thought she was gone. He looked up when he saw a figure, thinking it was David as he wanted him to ask about the dogs, but the darkly-dressed person he saw was certainly not what he expected. Frank stopped petting the dogs, although he wanted to continue, but his mouth fell agape and he couldn't form the words as his chest tightened and his heart beat so loud he thought it would escape right out of his chest. 

Frank tried to speak, but he just couldn't form the words so he just chuckled. His mouth curled in a smile and he stood up from the small bed, taking a step but stopping himself. "R-Ru . . . Rusty?" He managed to mumble.

The woman bit her lip as she smiled, trying not to look like the Cheshire cat she saw in the movies as a child. "Hey, poster boy." 

Frank took this response as a confirmation to the person standing in front of him. In a quick movement, he wrapped his hands around Rusty's torso, his cheek pressed against the side of her face as his arms squeezed her so hard you couldn't imagine. 

Rusty, too, hugged Frank. She had her head in between his shoulder and neck, taking in his scent - the one she had longed to smell for so long. 

"You're alive." Frank whispered, barely stopping a sob from escaping. Frank barely ever cried, but now? Oh hell, he was prepared to cry all he could. She was alive; alive and well. 

Rusty couldn't stop herself from letting tears spill onto Frank's shoulder, though. "You are, too."

The pair swayed a little, their embrace still strong. Frank had his hand on the back of Rusty's head, hushing her to try and stop her quiet cries. 

"I missed you so much." Rusty spoke, managing to subdue her cries.

"I missed you, too."