It Will Come Back [Frank Castle].

Beg

"Hang up the phone, Chelle. I ain't gonna - put that knife down, Chelle! Dammit, I ain't gonna hurt ya!"

She want to believe him. Really, she did. After all the moments they shared, all the little stories they told, dinners together and weekends at the park, she wanted to believe him. But, how was she supposed to know The Punisher's motives?

"Please... Chelle, please..."

He was looking at her with his onyx eyes, filled with so much vulnerability, so much pain, that she placed her phone on the kitchen table that separated them, beside the knife she'd been using for protection.

This was Frank. Her Frank. He was good. He was kind. He payed her bills, and asked about her day and complimented her no matter what ridiculous pajamas she wore around him. He cared, and she shouldn't forget that. She would hear him out.

"You kill people," Michelle said, needing to get the words out there so he could explain why. She knew about his family now, yet that didn't explain why he never mentioned his past to her.

"I don't kill nobody that don't deserve it. I'm not like them. I'm just trying to balance the scale the best I know how."

Yeah, that's what the newspaper article she read said, too. But, still... Frank was the one going around taking on entire crime syndicates? He was the one everyone had been so fired up over about two years ago? He was one of those vigilantes this city seemed to be packed full of?

"How do you know they deserve to die?" She hated this doubt. Not being sure of the man whose smile brightened his who appearance was doing things to her heart that she didn't care for.

"I do my research, Chelle. I hear what the street says. I see what they do. I take care of what needs to be taken care of." He slowly approached, hands out at his sides to show he wasn't a threat. "I'd never hurt you. Never. You know how I feel about you, baby."

She blinked back tears. "I know, Frank. I know."

He reached out, wanting to hold her like she was his, but settling on brushing his fingertips down her arms until he got to her wrists. His heart raced as the desire to be closer only got stronger. He could feel her own pulse racing under his fingers. Was she nervous about losing him like he was with her?

Michelle realized this was the first time he was the one to initiate contact between them since he first shook her hand the day they met. She pulled her arms from his grasp only to copy his hold on her, pulling him in. She needed him to see how much she wanted him there, with her. "Frank..."

His arms were around her in seconds, secure and strong.

Frank buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent like it was the only thing he ever wanted to smell again. "Baby, I didn't want you to find out like this. Wasn't supposed to go like this. You weren't - I should've been the one to tell you - Shit. I should've told you weeks ago. Not some fuckin' newspaper."

Of all the things to forget, Karen still writing about the effects of The Punisher's vigilance in Hell's Kitchen shouldn't have been one.

"It was a good article," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady. It felt so good being in his arms. She could feel the overwhelming need to start kissing his neck, and stifled it by grasping onto his jacket. He was so warm, smelling of gunpowder, leather and fresh laundry.

Frank pulled back, needing to see her face and know if she was really okay. He needed to know that she was pissed, or scared of him. She was his rock. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't be one of the monsters for her to fear.