Delicate: Frank Castle Fan Fiction

Chapter 3: Call it What You Want

Alexandra pulled the bandage off her fresh wound, groaning when no one was listening in pain and discomfort. She placed a clean one over her skin and threw the different one on the dumpster, sighing in relief. Then she pulled down her shirt, covering her night life with a simple movement and walked out of her bedroom, snatching her bag from the chair.
When she walked in her living room, she jumped in fear when she unexpectedly saw her friend, sitting on the couch, with his cane in between his legs and his glasses on to hide he, probably bruised, eyes. She held on to her chest breathing loudly and stared at him, a bit annoyed.

“I think half of the problems would be sorted if the men in my life learned to knock on the door for a change!”
“Where were you last night?”
She rolled her eyes and threw her bag on the floor- where her table was supposed to be- and walked over to the counter to put some coffee for herself “Couldn’t your antenna reach me then?”
“You know it couldn’t.”
She shrugged “didn’t really think about it, considering I don’t belong to you anymore”
Matt stood up, turning to her direction. “You never belonged to me.”
“I know that. Do you know that?” she asked, taking a bite from an apple she had left on the basket on the counter. Matt lowered his head, biting on his lip.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Second thing that would make my problems go away. Men trying to protect me. Why don’t you all take your protection and shove it up your ass instead-“ she threw the apple on the sink and walked quickly back to where she had left her bag, picked it up and went straight for the door. “By the way I’m changing the locks” she said and shut the door, leaving matt alone in her living room.

Matt sat back on the couch, holding tight on his cane and keeping his head low. His facial expression was stiff and his posture gave away how worried he was. His slipped his hand on his pocket and called an unknown number who had called him just a few hours before.
“I need more time.”

•••

Alexandra was listening to music. Shutting out the world since in the last couple of months she would get triggered by tiny things. Feeling her skin shiver, her hair standing up and her thoughts going red.
She walked down the subway, stood in between the normal people like she was normal as well and walked out when she reached her stop.

After cutting all ties, or at least the ones she could, with Matt Murdock she was forced to search for a new career, something she could be good at. Much like Karen had done a while back. Journalism didn’t really fit with her, writing articles wasn’t one of her talents and it required a lot of patience that she didn’t have. She thought about being a nurse, putting her knowledge to use but she didn’t trust herself to stay calm around blood. The sight of dark red still triggered some of her must troubled emotions. After searching a while, she found herself the perfect fit.

“Oh Lexie! Thank goodness! I have to run, my grandson had a fall in school. His parents can’t go, so I must go, you understand.”
Alexandra left her bag on the chair by the counter, which was filled with flowers and half finished bouquets.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Thank you darling.”
Alex would spend her morning hours with greens instead of reds. Planting seeds instead of bullets. The irony of it hadn’t slipped her attention and sometimes she found herself laughing about but she was proud of her profession, proud of what she was doing and the way she had found to sooth herself even at the worst times.

She took one of the pots and started clearing the plants, cutting and sharpening wherever it was needed, her mind taken off the usual troubles. Focused on her craft she completely missed the entrance of a woman in the shop and only when she heard her chuckling, she stopped. She kept her head low even then, annoyed and even a little angry.

“cute.”

Alex left down her scissors and looked up, biting on her tongue. The woman across from her didn’t look much different from what she remembered. Her short curly hair hid her wound very well and eyes remained as cold as she remembered, always searching for justice.