Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Frank's phone beeped on the desk across the room… a very particular beep that could only mean one thing… one person. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart that was suddenly racing, and let it out shakily. It'd been a while, and he felt a nervous energy suddenly coursing through him. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the way his own body betrayed him in the moment.

He knocked back the last of the coffee he held and set the mug on the counter, a little harder than he meant to. Steady, Castle.

He picked up the phone.

     One new text message. Sender: Her.

Karen. The only woman in his life these days. No confusion about which her it could be. He opened the message.

Call me, please.

His heart skipped a beat, just one, then it was back to its previous state… the one he thought of as keyed up. There was no hesitation. He called her right back.

"Hey, Frank," she answered halfway through the first ring. She sounded out of breath.

"Karen. Y'alright?" he clenched the hand that wasn't holding the phone, waiting for her response.

"I am, yeah. Listen… I'm driving to the airport. There's a flight in ninety-minutes I think I can just make. I-" she cut herself off, hesitating.

"You in trouble?" he asked, feeling an itch in his nerves at the thought.

"It's Matt."

Frank closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. Of course it was. The only times she ever called anymore were to ask him to check on Red.

"Karen, I-"

"It's Poindexter," she interrupted. "He escaped. Killed a doctor and a few guards. It's-" she stumbled, a shaky breath escaping as she tried to hold back her emotions. When she spoke again, her voice wasn't much more than a whisper he had to strain to hear. "He went for Fisk, but he got Matt instead."

"Jesus Christ," Frank bowed his head, mind jumping from one scenario to the next. He tried, but couldn't seem to make sense of Fisk and Red being in the same room together. How bad was it? He must've survived or she'd be inconsolable. "Karen, what do you need? What are you asking here?"

"I heard from Kirsten. There's a lot I don't know. She wasn't there, it was all second and third hand. Matt-" she stopped, and Castle could picture her biting her lip to hold back tears. "He stepped in front of Fisk. He… everyone said it must have been chance that Matt got in between Fisk and Poindexter, but-"

"No way he did that on accident," Frank finished her sentence. "Goddammit, Red. Why?" he said, more to himself than to her. He shook his head again, contemplating what he knew would come next. "And what does any of this have to do with me?" he asked, more than a little bitterness seeping out with the question.

He heard Karen's shaky intake of breath. "He's at Metro General. He's gonna be fine, but Frank, this is… This didn't happen by accident. I just know... he's gonna do something stupid. He's gonna get himself killed, and I can't-" she stopped speaking. Almost a minute went by before she said, "I can't lose him. Please… I know you care."

"About him? Shit, Karen. Not enough to get between him and that psycho."

"About me, Frank. I know you care about me, and I am asking… please. Please find him. Please keep him safe until I can get there."

Frank knew he'd do it. She could have asked anything of him and he'd have said yes.

He knew it. She knew it.

"Alright," he nodded once to the empty room. "Yeah… alright. I can do that for you."

Her relieved sigh on the other end of the line hurt, but he'd never admit that to anyone… let alone to himself.

After a few long moments of silence he asked, "Where will I find him?"

"At home. I'd bet everything I own he checks himself out of the hospital the minute he can stand. He'll go home. I'm sure of that."

Frank took the briefest moment to get into his head. She was right… Murdock would almost certainly do that, and of course, she knew him better than anyone...

"You know the address?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"I know it."

There were a few more beats of silence, and then Frank could hear sirens on Karen's end of the line. He was about to ask, when she said, "I gotta go. There's an accident up ahead - traffic. I'll call you when I land."

He sighed, deeper than he meant to - she probably heard it. "When you land," he agreed, and then she was gone.

"Goddammit, Red," he muttered again, rubbing his face with his free hand. The feel of his beard under his fingers sent his mind down a different path, no longer dwelling on Matt Murdock and his inability to keep his shit together.

Frank stalked towards his small bathroom and stripped his shirt off, reaching for his electric trimmer. He looked at himself in the small mirror, really looked, for the first time in ages… and then he turned it on and went to work.

Chapter Text

When Karen emerged from the gate at Newark Liberty International, the first thing she did was turn off airplane mode and check her phone for messages. Nothing from Frank, but then, she hadn't expected any.

There was a message from Kirsten:

Matt's awake. He asked for you. I'm leaving to let him get some rest. You should call him in the morning.

Karen felt a fluttering in her stomach when she read the words, He asked for you. She let out a little chuckle. In the morning. Yeah, right, Kirsten. She checked the time stamp on the text, but realized it didn't tell her when the message had been sent, only what time her phone received it: 11:58 pm.

With that glance at the time, a thought popped into her head. The city's been dark for half an hour already.

That was all she'd managed to glean from The BB Report twenty minutes earlier, before she'd had to shut her phone off in preparation for landing. The whole of New York City had lost power at 11:25 pm, Emergency Alerts going off on everyone's phone urging them to stay in their homes.

Up to that point, she'd spent the whole flight cycling through the same handful of news sites looking for more information about the shooting, starting over again at The Bulletin every time she reached the last of her tabs.

Just as the announcement came over the speakers to turn off and stow electronic devices, she saw that BB Urich had posted a brief note to her blog.

Blackout Across the City.

Karen clicked the post, but before she had time to scan more than the first few lines, there was a steward standing next to her insisting she turn off her phone. She spent the whole of the plane's landing and taxiing feeling like she might be sick at any moment.

Now, feet firmly on the ground, a realization washed over Karen, and she sent up a silent thanks to the universe that her flight had been to Newark and not LaGuardia. Planes bound for New York would definitely have been redirected to other airports in the tri-state area, but she was right where she wanted to be.

The concourse was surprisingly crowded. As she wove in and out of the other travelers, she clicked again on The Bulletin's front page, and found an updated story on the mayoral assassination attempt.

Karen opened the article and scanned it as she walked, only to stop short upon seeing Matt's name. Someone bumped into her from behind, but she didn't acknowledge the person's gruff, "Watch it," too engrossed as she was in staring at her phone.

All of the reports up until this point had referenced one or more casualties, but this was the first time Matt had been identified by name. She skimmed the update.

Matthew Murdock… shot once… stabilized on scene before being taken away by ambulance. No updates on his condition.

Murdock, a lawyer, originally from Hell's Kitchen... his client, Hector Ayala... 

The article went on about his professional career, but she stopped reading.

It seemed so strange to Karen that other people were moving around like it was a regular day, when her own barely contained panic was threatening to bubble over. She had to fight to push her emotions down - the bottom of her stomach felt like it had dropped away. She reminded herself that she'd already heard it all from Kirsten. Shot in the left shoulder. Blood transfusion at Metro General. No reason he wouldn't make a full recovery.

And he was awake. Maybe he was home already?

She could see in her mind's eye that same shoulder, torn through by a bullet all those years ago, in the fight against the Hand. She remembered the way the scar had become less noticeable under her fingertips across the intervening years. The memory made her ache to be with him.

She stared at his name on the screen, willing her heart to slow down at the thought of seeing him again. She thought back to the last time, when she'd only flown in for two days. It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to walk away from him at the courthouse. With each step she'd expected to feel his touch on her shoulder, hear his voice asking her to stay. She'd had her answer ready - I have a plane to catch, but in the end no excuses were necessarily. He hadn't followed her.

Well… there was no return ticket booked this time. She had no idea what she was walking into, and she had no intention of leaving until whatever was going on here with Matt and Fisk was settled. Her heart skipped another beat at the thought of Matt taking a bullet for Fisk. Why, Matt? Why?

She tipped her head back and took a deep breath, and when she felt steadier, she closed the web browser on her phone and pulled up the message app.

Just landed.

Two minutes went by before her phone rang. She slid the green bar over before it even made a sound.

"Frank," she breathed. "I'm here. I just gotta get my rental car."

"Already? What, did you steal a fighter jet?" he joked, but there was genuine surprise in his voice.

She let out a small, nervous chuckle. "I've been in Chicago the past three weeks for work. Only a ninety-minute flight."

There was quiet on the line for a moment. No doubt he was reworking his plan to account for her earlier-than-expected arrival. After a minute, he cleared his throat. "Well, I been waitin' a couple hours… no sign of him yet. You want me to go lookin'?"

"No. If you go, you might miss each other. I know him. He'll be there eventually."

"Yeah. Alright."

"Frank…" she hesitated, looking around to ensure she wouldn't be overheard. "I know you said you'd keep him safe… I have one more favor to ask."

He made an affirmative grunt, and she took a deep breath, exhaling through her nerves. "Please," she dropped her voice even further. "If there's fighting... please don't let him kill anyone."

Frank tsked audibly. There was a long pause while Karen waited for him to respond. "Alright," he said eventually. "If any of that needs doing, well…" he trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken.

Karen thought about explaining… but, no. There was not need to explain. Frank understood. Understood the line that Matt had never crossed. Understood why Karen hoped he'd never have to.

"Thank you," she said, her relief palpable. She felt even better when she saw the car rental counter a few yards ahead. "As long as this goes smoothly, I should be at Matt's within an hour."

Frank made another grunting noise, but then followed up with, "I'll let you know if we end up somewhere else."

Karen nodded, though Frank couldn't see her. "See you soon," she said, before ending the call.

The rental paperwork felt like it took forever, but in reality it was only ten minutes before she was walking towards the exit holding a set of keys and a map of the airport, a red dot marking the lot where she'd find her car waiting.

As she passed through the exit and turned east, her mouth fell open in amazement. The dark hole where New York City should have been took her breath away. There were small lights here and there, pinpricks in the otherwise profound blackness, and her mind was suddenly gripped by an unnameable dread.

Poindexter had gone for Fisk… and now the city was in darkness. Her heart cantered away as a dozen terrifying possibilities occurred to her. She almost tripped as the adrenaline in her system propelled her forward to find her car.

Matt, please be safe. Please. I'm coming.

Chapter Text

The moment her car pulled up behind them, Matt understood. Understood why Frank had come. Why he'd cleaned himself up. Why he'd pushed Matt to kill that corrupt cop.

Karen.

It didn't matter that his ears were ringing from the multitude of gunshots loosed in his apartment, and from the explosion that, if the sound of the fire burning above them was any indication, had decimated everything that he owned. There was no amount of noise that could block the sound of Karen's heart beating as she caught sight of them through her windshield.

His own heart, already working hard to keep him upright, with a lower than normal volume of blood and the remains of powerful painkillers coursing through his veins, suddenly felt like it was ready to punch a hole in his chest. He felt his bullet wound throb with each beat, the trickle of blood oozing more thickly than it had a few moments before.

And, he knew the exact moment Frank caught sight of her stepping out of her car.

He'd always known there were feelings between them. She'd told Matt years back that she cared for Frank, but still, it took his breath away to hear just how Frank's breathing and heartbeat changed when he saw her... Much the same way his own had a moment before.

He wanted to say something to express his profound relief that she was there, especially given how adrift he'd felt the last few days, but his throat felt suddenly tight with emotion, and this wasn't the time or place.

Karen's heart sounded like the thundering of wild horses, but she took the lead, as she'd so often done before, her voice, calm and unwavering.

"Come on. Get in."

No preamble. No fuss. He'd missed that about her, one of the million reasons that he loved her, and his body leaned in her direction without conscious thought.

He surprised himself when, with a hoarse voice, he said, "Shotgun." It came out so easily, like it was two years earlier and nothing had changed. It was only after he took his first step towards her, and registered Frank's short laugh, that he realized how his comment might be interpreted - like he was staking some kind of claim. Well… Frank could think what he wanted… Matt's existence was on a whole other plane now that Karen was there.

He made his way to the car and dropped into the front passenger seat, letting out a groan as his shoulder hit the seat back harder than he meant it to.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes, he knew, looking him over for injuries as they'd done so many times before, while her heart beat double-time. "Matt-" was all she got out before Frank opened the door behind her. He got in and slammed it shut.

"Karen," he acknowledged, his voice managing to sound soft and gruff at the same time.

She exhaled a long breath and shifted in her seat, allowing for a quick glance at Frank in the rear view mirror before she turned her body towards Matt sitting beside her. "Where do we go now?"

They answered simultaneously.

"Frank's."

"My place."

Karen let out a small laugh. "Glad there's a consensus. Who's gonna tell me where that is?"

Matt gave her a smirk and tilted his head in Frank's direction. He knew it was petty, but he couldn't help feeling absolutely elated that Karen didn't know where Frank lived. He thought he detected an answering smile on her lips, and then she once again turned her attention to Frank's reflection in the mirror.

He gave a heavy, exhausted sigh. "Just... start driving. I'll tell you where to go."

*

The car ride was mostly silent, Frank speaking up as needed in order to direct Karen to their destination. Matt took the opportunity to lean his head back and close his eyes. He felt exhausted. He couldn't wait for the last of the drugs to wear off.

When they arrived and she parked, Frank said, "Gimme a minute to make sure it's clear."

"Okay," Karen said softly.

When he was a few paces away, she reached out and touched Matt's injured shoulder with her fingertips. "You okay?" she sounded less sure of herself than before, and Matt opened his eyes and sat up straighter.

"Better now. With you."

He said it automatically, without giving a second thought to the callback it would trigger in Karen's memory, his own mind conjuring up the many times they'd said those words to one another across the years.

She reached up from his shoulder and touched the hard line where the edge of his mask met his cheek, her breathing and heartbeat quick with nerves.

He knew what she wanted. She'd traced that line many times before, a lifetime ago, and he nodded his head and reached up to pull his helmet off.

In the back of his mind he wondered just how much of a mess he looked. He wished that he could see Karen, something he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge for a long time. "I wish I could see you," he said softly, one corner of his mouth turning down of its own accord.

"I know," she said gently. Her voice was quiet, but her heartbeat was like a drum line crashing in his ears, skipping along to a tempo that he knew so well… a tempo that for over a year he'd missed… a tempo that he still heard in his dreams.

She inhaled a breath, the beginnings of a thought on the tip of her tongue, but Matt interrupted her, clearing his throat and indicating with a point of his chin that Frank was on his way back.

Karen let out a quiet sigh.

"Later," he reassured her. "You're here now. There's time."

"Later," she nodded, giving his gloved hand a quick squeeze.

The moment her hand left his, Matt immediately felt the loss. He realized with sudden clarity just how large the Karen-shaped hole in his life actually was, something he'd been trying his hardest to pretend otherwise... the past six months most of all. But with her there beside him, he finally understood that he'd been kidding himself all along.

She left her mark on him a long time ago… and nobody, and nothing, would ever fill that hole up inside him, save Karen herself.

Chapter Text

Karen finished washing her hands and turned, stopping short with a hitch in her breath at the sight that greeted her - Matt, stripped to the waist, a bloody square of gauze no longer doing its job of protecting his gunshot wound. She watched as he dragged one chair into place in front of another, then sat down, waiting.

The room was dim, the light from the few small lanterns working overtime to illuminate the large space, and it was with effort that she turned her attention away from him to where Frank stood, laying out the contents of his first aid kit for communal use.

The police radio crackled on the desk a few feet away and he tilted an ear towards it to catch what was being said. His hearing wasn't particularly sharp, That's what he got from years of firing guns with no hearing protection, but he didn't seem concerned by what he heard, turning away after only a moment.

When his task was finished, he strode across the room and held a flashlight out to Matt, who took it with a nod, then walked away without a word.

Karen bit her lip, momentarily tempted to laugh and ask what, if any, conversation they'd had about what they respectively got up to in the dark. She knew how Foggy had found out about Daredevil… Maggie and Cherry, too. But she wondered, How had Matt explained to Frank how he can do what he can do? What had the moment been like when Frank learned the extent of his abilities… or did he even know at all?

Matt turned his face towards her, brow furrowed, and tilted his head in that particular way. It was his equivalent of looking at her, and her breath caught again with the knowledge that he was reading her… wondering what she was thinking. She bit back a smile as she realized that even after all this time, it still gave her butterflies to know his full attention was focused on her.

She did her best to tuck her smile away as she made her way over to Frank's work table and picked out a few supplies she knew she'd need. She made note of the handful of needles, already threaded, in case Matt would need stitches. Just like old times, she thought grimly, memories of bloody gashes and sloppy stitches coming to the forefront of her mind, unbidden.

She turned around just in time to see Matt peel the useless, bloody gauze away, and the sight brought her mind back to the present moment. She cleared her throat and walked over to the chair he'd set down for her, tsking audibly at the state of his wound.

He gave her a sheepish expression. "Just like old times," his voice was low, she could practically taste his regret in the air between them.

"Yeah," she thought back to the last time she cleaned him up, hours after the fight at Josie's, a lifetime ago, and felt her throat tighten at the memory.

He seemed to understand because he cleared his throat and said softly, "So… all those times you joked about hell freezing over before I'd go to the hospital…"

She grinned, snorting a small laugh before schooling her expression into one more appropriate for tending to a gunshot wound. His words did the trick though… she was still thinking back on the old days of nursing his wounds, but to the good times, when they, with Foggy, used to joke about the hazards of being Daredevil.

She heard Frank strike a match, and the unmistakable hiss of a burner just before it lit. The tiniest scent of propane reached her nose before it was burned up by the flame, and then a moment later there was the first hint of coffee in the air.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stalk over to his workbench carrying a mirror, and drop into his seat with a grunt. He positioned the light so that he could examine his wound, and then picked up a threaded needle and went to work.

Karen brought her full attention back to the man in front of her. She hadn't missed this, but God, she had missed him. She took a moment to look him up and down. He looked exhausted… and pale. She wondered, Just how much blood had he lost... and been given?

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then opened a bottle of alcohol and splashed some on a piece of gauze. "Light," she murmured, and Matt responded by holding the flashlight up in the general direction of his shoulder. She touched his forearm, moving it a few inches so that the beam illuminated his wound, and said quietly, "Right there." He gave her a small nod, and she started cleaning the blood away.

The hospital sutures had held up well. She smiled again at his hell-freezing-over comment, but her mouth dropped into a concentrated frown when she saw that two had in fact started to rip away.

She dropped the used gauze onto the floor next to Matt's chair and dribbled some alcohol onto a fresh one. She didn't speak, but gently worked her way around the stitches. Matt inhaled a little sharply when she tested the loose ones, but didn't complain.

There was a little blood left to clean up, but for the most part she was done. The wound was in surprisingly good shape. If he found time to meditate in the next few hours, she knew it would be well on its way to healing.

She allowed herself one more fresh piece of gauze, gently and methodically cleaning the last traces of blood from his shoulder and chest. She could just make out the scar, half an inch away, where he'd been shot all those years ago, in the fight against the Hand. She tried not to think about how either one of those bullets might have hit him two inches lower, where Foggy's had been, and let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.

She saw Matt's mouth twitch down out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't speak. Apparently neither of them was ready to talk about it with Frank just a few feet away.

Another minute went by before Matt said softly, "How's it look?"

"Well, you've been prettier," she said quietly, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she had kept them in. There were so many things she wanted to say, and hiding behind jokes wasn't how she wanted to say them.

He chuckled. Another beat passed. He tilted his head slightly, focusing his senses momentarily on something she couldn't hear. She could just make out indistinguishable voices coming out of the police radio. She wondered if that's what had drawn his attention.

He brought his attention back to her. "So uh, you called frank, huh?"

Karen knew it would come eventually… the conversation of how she'd ended up there. She just wished it could have waited until they were alone.

"Uh-huh," she was pleased that her voice came out steadier than her nerves. "I heard Poindexter escaped. Called Frank and hopped on a plane."

Matt's soft, "You couldn't call me?" made her heart ache.

She wasn't ready to put into words how she'd felt when she heard from Kirsten. Not here. Not yet. "I needed someone to look out for you. You definitely wouldn't have liked that."

She dropped the gauze and picked up the wound dressing she had on her lap, ripping it open. She'd just pressed it into place when she heard Frank let out a small groan and scrape his chair back.

"You okay over there?" she asked, half jokingly.

"Never been better," his response was short, And cold, she thought. His walls were up.

The air felt suddenly thick with an indescribable tension, and for a moment she was reminded that she was in the room with the Punisher, not just her friend, Frank. She felt her mouth form a tight smile, and was glad when she saw he wasn't looking.

"Come on. Let me take a look."

"Nah." He tossed back a few pills, crunching them up as she made her way over to where he stood. "You know somethin' Karen? Nothin' in this world a good cup of coffee can't fix."

And he looked at her… fixed her with such an intense gaze that it caught her completely off guard. It took her breath away. "You want a cup?"

He kept his eyes trained on hers, perhaps worried that if he blinked it would break whatever spell he'd cast, and she realized with sudden clarity that she'd been wrong. She thought he had closed himself off, ready to hide behind the impenetrable fortress he'd spent the past decade building around his heart, but what she'd heard in his voice a moment before… it was nerves. He'd been working up to this moment… working up the courage… for this.

What he'd said was, You want a cup?… but what he was asking, with eyes more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him wear, was, Do you want me?

It took all the effort she could muster to respond with a steady voice. She swallowed heavily, and managed to say, "Uh, no, thank you," as gently as she could, trying not to betray the sorrow in her heart or the frantic hammering in her chest. She loved him, in a way, but the person she couldn't live without… the pull that her heart felt every moment of her life... was for Matt, not him.

She could see on his face the moment her words hit home. Could feel the sadness coming off him in waves. He knew, that she knew, what he was really asking. She hoped her answer didn't leave any room for misinterpretation. 

He fiddled with his mug awkwardly, not taking his eyes off of her for a few long beats, then he cleared his throat and made an attempt to move on. "How 'bout you Red? You want some coffee?

Matt, now zipped back into his suit, might have fooled some people with his response of, "Got any oat milk?" but Karen recognized immediately that he was making a joke to break the tension.

He was so goddamn charming, even as Frank tried to make him a third wheel in the midst of a crisis. She had to turn away to hide the smile that threatened to blossom on her face.

He walked over and accepted a mug of coffee, and she could see from the look on his face that the time had come to talk about what had happened an hour before. "So, he went after Matt Murdock, not Daredevil. That's bold even for Fisk."

Matt's response made her stomach drop. "Listen, Karen. Turns out it was a hit… on Foggy."

"Holy shit." She felt her mouth go dry.

"Vanessa Fisk hired Poindexter to take him out."

"Why?" her voice shook with anger and disbelief. She felt sick to her stomach as her mind took her right back to that moment, kneeling over Foggy.

"I think there's something in the motion he was about to file. He was moving to dismiss the case, and Vanessa made sure he never got to."

Matt's words triggered a slew of other memories to come flooding back, of the last couple of weeks before Foggy was killed. The long hours he'd spent working alone, his office door shut. She'd asked what he was working on and if she could help, but he'd been evasive. Foggy… what did you find? And why didn't you tell me?

"I think maybe I missed something back then."

Karen's blood was suddenly boiling away with a need to find out the truth. "You know the files have been in storage as far as I know."

"That's right. Will you be my eyes?" his words and expression warmed her soul.

She'd spent the last six months trying to forget. To blot out the memory of the look on his face the last time she saw him, when she walked away from him in the courthouse, as he pleaded with her to stay. It haunted her. His face. His words. That memory.

The look he gave her now… of anticipation… of familiarity and love, eased the ache that'd been carved in her her heart since their last meeting. Her words came out without a moment's hesitation. "Hey, anytime."

"Let's go."

She made her way across the room, her thoughts already spiraling ahead to the storage locker that held the remains of Nelson, Murdock and Page. She couldn't wait to get out and do something. She was already mentally plotting the route she'd take to get them there, but crashed back to the present when she saw Matt pause and turn in Frank's direction.

She hadn't given him a second thought since Matt mentioned Foggy's name. She ignored the hint of guilt she felt at that realization. "You comin' Frank?" she asked, even though the answer was already written on his face.

"Got shit to do."

It wasn't his words that cut her, but the fact that he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he said them. He futzed with a few tools on his workbench, set aside the slide from a disassembled pistol, all the while, his eyes were cast down. He was hiding from her.

She felt sadness that their meeting had ended like this. He was hurt, but he was venting his hurt in the form of anger, and she didn't deserve that.

"Realize Fisk will be coming for you, too." Matt, that blessed man, was still acting like Frank's heart hadn't just been broken right in front of him by the woman they apparently both loved.

"That right? I'll tell you what." Frank took a breath and Karen held her own, bracing for whatever came next. "If he does I'll put a bullet in his fat head. How about that?"

He said it for shock value. He knew neither she nor Matt wanted that, but he wanted to get a rise out of them… wanted to start a fight. Neither of them took the bait.

Frank looked ready to boil over. "You know somethin'? Inspector Gadget bullshit… it's not for me. You guys can show yourselves out."

Matt didn't stick around, just grabbed his helmet and headed for the door.

Karen didn't care how much Frank was hurting - she refused to leave it like that. "You know what Frank? I'm not buyin' it," she called his bluff. "I don't believe you don't care."

She turned to leave… knew Matt was waiting for her a few feet down the hall, but Frank surprised her.

"Hey, Karen?"

She turned back, heart hammering in her chest once more at the softness of his tone.

"You asked me for a favor. I did it."

He wore his heartbreak on his sleeve. It broke Karen's heart to add to it, but she needed to end this here and now. She loved him… but not the way he wanted her to. "Yes, you did. Thank you."

She pulled the door shut behind her, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She would give anything to take back the last couple of minutes… to have the same friendship and familial love that she'd shared with Frank for years, but she wouldn't string him along. If his love for her had become this… When? When had it become this?, then this ending was inevitable. She just hoped it wasn't the end.

"Stay safe," she murmured, dabbing her eyes. Then she turned the corner and found Matt waiting for her.

"You ready?" he asked, a small, but hopeful, smile on his face.

She nodded and cleared her throat, managing an answering smile in return. "Let's go."