SUNSHINE [Frank Castle]

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - SCARS

Frank knocked David out. What lead to this, was David suggesting they work with Madani to put Agent Orange, now known to be Director of Covert Operations for the CIA, William Rawlins, away while they drank and told stories, some of which lead to David's dick, unfortunately. Frank disagreed, of course, and knocked him out.

Frank had then sat back down beside Charlotte, who sat with her feet up on another chair across from her, half a smirk on her lips. "Seems like overkill, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not." He leaned back in his seat, sipping at the glass of alcohol in his hand.

"He's got a point, you know. Madani could help. I could go to her, to keep you two safe."

"No. He doesn't get to live. This is it, Charlotte. This is where it ends. Him, and me. One of us dies." She could see the determination in his eyes, the pure need for revenge.

"That's how it has to be?" She asked.

"That's how it's gotta be," he confirmed.

"Okay," she said. "But I think you got one thing wrong. It's not just you and him. One of you doesn't die. It's you and me, and he dies. Deal?"

"Deal." He couldn't help but smile. It was small, yes, but it was there. Just the sight of it made her grin.

"When do you think he's going to wake up?" She jerked her chin in Lieberman's direction.

"Hard to say. All that booze in him won't help."

"You want to go home for a bit? He should be okay by himself. I'll set out some water and Tylenol for when he wakes up."

"Yeah, let's go."

They took Charlotte's car back to their apartment, and made the long walk up the stairs, fingers intertwined between them. Soon they reached their floor and apartment door, searched their pockets for keys, and went inside.

When the door closed behind them, though, they didn't part ways. They just stopped and stood in the middle of the living room. Charlotte moved first, taking a tentative step forward to kiss him.

His hands gripped her hips, and hers rested on his chest. But then she moved them to the two sides of his jacket and gently tugged on them. He pulled away from her lips to glance downward.

"Is this okay?" She asked, her voice quiet.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay."

She slid his jacket off of his shoulders and tossed it onto the closest object to them— the couch. He in turn took her jacket off, and tossed it behind himself. She didn't see where it landed.

She pulled him to her again, kissing him with a new passion. His hands slid down her hips to rest behind her thighs. "Jump," he mumbled in between kisses.

She did, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He carried her to her bedroom and set her down on the bed. She let him crawl on top of her, and didn't feel the need to flip them over so she was on top. She trusted him.

He trusted her, too.

His shirt came off easily, tugging only on the chain that his wedding ring hung on. The ring hung over her for a few moments before she began assuring Frank that it was alright.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you wear it for a reason." He nodded, and slid the ring over the chain behind his head to rest on the back of his neck, so that neither of them would see it.

He then slipped off her shirt, undid her bra, and took her pants and underwear off. He did the same for himself, but stopped short when he looked at her. Really looked at her.

At the scars that covered her entire body. And she'd never seen him look so sad.

"Frank. . . ," she whispered, shaking her head a little.

"Shit, Sunshine." His voice faltered, just a little. His eyes trailed over her body, not sure where to focus on. So he started at her chest.

At the scars over her chest and breasts where a knife had repeatedly sliced into her skin. His lips ghosted over each one with a tenderness she'd never seen before.

Then he went down to her stomach, where a bullet had torn through her. Then her lower abdomen, where the scar from when they sterilized her was. Her inner thighs were next, his heart nearly breaking at the sight of the lash marks on them. Lastly, the rest of her legs, where she'd also been carved up in several places by several knives.

He kissed every inch of her body, then climbed back up to her head to meet her eyes. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He dipped his head down and brushed his lips over hers.

She hummed against his lips. "I don't know. . . Tell me again."

"You're beautiful," he repeated.

Her lips pulled up into a wide smile, and she murmured her next words softly to him. "Make love to me, Frank."

As soon as those words left her mouth, he buried his head in her neck and held her close to him as he entered her. His hands found hers and intertwined their fingers, before sliding their joined hands up beside her head.

Afterward, she laid down with her head on his chest and his fingers wound through her hair. She felt his thumb caressing her cheek, one slow stroke at a time. It calmed her.

But she felt his eyes on her scars, burning holes into her skin. She was insecure about them, even after he'd seen them all and not judged her for any of them.

"I want to kill whoever gave you those," he finally said.

"I know." She nodded. "I felt the same when I saw yours."

Yes, Frank's body was also littered with scars. She would have been surprised if he hadn't been.

She turned over so that she was on her stomach and she could look up at him. Her fingers drew circles on his hard, muscled chest, and he looked down at her with an amused expression on his face.

Then his fingers began tracing the scars on her back— lash marks from a man who hadn't been happy with her on one of her missions during her early days. She shivered at his touch, so soft and gentle.

"I didn't think you'd be much for cuddling," she said, half teasing. "To be honest, I thought you'd be out of here as soon as we finished."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Sunshine." His fingers moved up from her back to lay on her shoulder.

"Good," she told him as she reached up to peck him on the lips. "Because I'm not either."