I'm Hoping That You'll Keep Your Heart Open (I'll Keep Mine Open, Too)

I'm Hoping That You'll Keep Your Heart Open

After watching the Defenders, I was having all sorts of Karen Page feels. So have my attempt at writing Kastle, though I likely didn't do these two justice.

Title from Prey by The Neighborhood.

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When Frank first hears, it's almost like waking up in that empty hospital room all over again.

(But all at once it's not, because while he may feel very strongly for one Karen Page, it will never compare to to that of his family.)

It's been a long while since their own meeting, and belatedly he realizes it's been nearly a year when he finally cares to count up the days and weeks. And somehow, it only took that long for him to realize that maybe he could feel something for someone again. 

He's not some hopeless romantic. But he knows that there cannot be another Miss Page anywhere on the earth. There cannot be someone so fragile yet so secretive and fierce. Frank's been a lot of places; he just knows this.

So yes, he does feel something for her. He enjoys the slight dips and curves of her figure, he enjoys hearing her gentle voice, he craves the feel of her fingers ghosting along his damaged skin as she cleans him up. These are all little bits of a strong woman who will take no bullshit.

(He doesn't love her.

That's a word reserved for three people, and those three only.

But he does feel for her. And that is more than he's felt in a long while.)

So when he's sliding open the window that she specifically leaves unlocked every Tuesday night, he's on edge by the fact her apartment's dark. What's more, it's empty.

It's not large, but it's still a step up from her last home. There are no bullet holes in the wall, no bloodstains in the carpet. She's happy -- or at the very least content -- here.

They have take-out every Tuesday.

But her apartment's empty, the lights are off, and her tips and articles and research aren't spread over the carpet like they usually are, ready for the two of them to examine and uncover.

Frank moves carefully, reaching into his pant's pocket. His combat boots almost make the floorboards creak, but he pads carefully and they remain quiet.

In the tiny hallway leading to both the kitchenette and doorway, a figure stands, leaning almost casually against the wall. Frank sighs, dropping the pistol back into its concealment.

"Red," Frank growls in acknowledgement.

The devil's head tips slightly, and Frank forces himself to meet the eyes of Matt's ridiculous get up.

"Mr. Castle," he responds, voice low as ever.

There's a beat of silence, but Frank doesn't let it linger for long. He's here for Karen, not for Matt.

"Are you going to explain what you're doing here?" He asks, voice rough.

Another beat of silence.

"Karen," he finally mutters, head darting down.

"Yeah?" Frank growls. "What about her?"

"She's in the hospital, Frank. Accident."

He doesn't ask. Asking means explanations, and explanation means time. Time he isn't willing to waste. Instead, he turns on his heel and prowls over to the window, sliding himself back out into the night.

Frank Castle is a damned man if he lets another second go by without being with those who need him. Those he cares for, those he needs.

And hell if he doesn't need Karen Page.