#or at this point i was also maybe just too tired to create bigger gifsets for some of them 🤐

[papa-evershed]

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gifset outtake edition 🎬

[edourado]

Distance

Ok. So. @superrpowerlesshuman made a an amazing gifset (and I know that if I put a link in here it won’t appear in the tags, so help an author out and reblog it, please?) and I thought I’d write a little something to go with it, because it really did evoke soemething in me. 

I really do hope you like it, and that you don’t mind my dwelling into the scenario you created. 

Raise your hand if you need more kastle o/

Much love. Hope this pleases. 

She sees him from across the bar.

Looking… Normal. Standing there with the people watching the band, no guns no blood no bruises, just a dark button down, jeans and those boots.

He smiles at her, almost sheepish, and it is, honestly, a shock. She’s so used to seeing him angry, mad, desperate, stubbornly determined to do something she didn’t want him to do.

His smile is something, she realizes, unfamiliar to her. Karen Page can count on one hand the number of times Frank Castle actually honestly smiled in her presence.

All those times, though, it always meant something.

Foggy is rambling away, already so drunk, and she had drank more than him.

“I don’t know what to do, K”, he mumbles while Karen is distracted by the sight of Frank, trying to figure out how the hell did he know she would be here, in this particular bar. “She’s so mad at me, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

She looks back at her friend, who had dropped his head on the wooden surface of the bar.

Really, she had been happy to accept his invitation for drinks, he needed to vent, this fight with Marci had been driving him crazy for almost a week, now.

“You wanna go get a drink?” He had asked, miserably, while they closed up the office, and she said yeah, sure, let’s get hammered.

At first, she had wished Matt wasn’t tangled up in endless meetings with Luke Cage and Danny Rand all day, he might have been able to help her with a distraught Foggy, but now she was glad he couldn’t make it. He would not be happy with Frank’s presence.

She was, though. Extremely happy.

He had skipped town after the last time she saw him, and she had been sad and angry and heartbroken, adamant on stopping this, putting an end on this thing, this thing of theirs, she had decided to cut it.

If he didn’t want her, he didn’t want her. Not like she could force him to love her back.

Except she knew he did. She knew it, because Frank sucks at lying, he could push her away all he wanted, but she knew it, because of the flowers and the bomb and the bullets he took, all the bullets he took to save her, his eyes and his face and his hands and his words and the way he said her name and the way he held her hand, tight and firm, like he never wanted to let go.

Karen knew he was lying. Still, she was angry.

She only found out he left town when another pot of flowers found its way to her. This time, to her front door, not from inside a backpack.

She got home from work and there they sat, with a card that read her name, a simple “Happy Birthday” and a phone number.

She had ignored the flowers, at first. Brought them in and put them on the kitchen counter, and then walked away, to take a shower. She made herself dinner, and didn’t look at the flowers.

She did the dishes and didn’t look at the white roses.

She tidied the apartment up and didn’t acknowledge the bouquet, bigger than its predecessor, not as big as the one Danny Rand has sent that morning, and not as elaborate as the one from Tower’s office.

In the end, when she was lying in bed, ready to turn in for the night, she picked the card up and typed the number in, and her thumb had been hovering above the call button for almost five minutes straight when her phone started to ring, startling her, and she dropped it.

Blocked number.

Frank.

“Happy birthday”, he said in her ear when she picked up.

“Didn’t think you knew”, she said back, almost regretting taking the call, because his voice made her miss him immediately, desperately, her lungs threatened to collapse, so much she missed him.

“Give me some credit, Kare.”

He was in Nevada, he told her, and she didn’t ask if he was there chasing the New York gangster that was tending to business in Vegas, and he didn’t volunteer that information.

They talked for maybe five minutes before saying good night, and she wondered if that was the last she was going to hear from him, if this had been his way of saying goodbye.

But he called the next night. From Utah, this time, and his voice was a bit different.

They talked for ten minutes, and he asked about work, if she was ok, but he sounded tired, so she asked if he was ok.

“Drove all day”, he said, and Karen wondered if he was getting ready to sleep, too, like she was.

He texted from Wyoming, because she was already in a call when he tried, so he sent one word, that she saw when she hung up:

“Busy?”

It was after midnight when she fell asleep, picturing him in the motel room he told her he was sleeping that night.

When he was in Iowa, he asked about Wilson Fisk, and the Bulletin, and his voice sounded harsh.

When he told her he was in Kansas, she tried not to let her voice betray her disappointment. All this time, she allowed herself to imagine he was making his way back.

To her.

But there was Kansas, and then he stayed in Louisiana for a while. From there, he called from a different number, and told her to throw away the old one, even if she was never the one to call. It was always him, and she learned to expect those calls, always after dark, always after she was tucked in bed, never on a Friday or on weekends.

Frank would always call her on Wednesdays or Thursdays.

.:.

He was in Tennessee, she thinks, when she called him, on a Tuesday, and they talked like they weren’t who they were. Light and soft and she allowed that lilt to her voice, the pointless question just to keep him speaking, the nonsensical comment and the joke that just might be a little, tiny bit, blink and you’ll miss it flirty.

Karen had the ritual, now, of getting home, eating, showering, turning off all the lights and then picking up his call, and he started to call more frequently, started to tell her a little bit about what he was doing, and she was glad to hear it was not more killing.

He was in Chicago when he said he missed her. It was almost December, and she said she missed him, too, her toes curling inside the thick socks she had on.

Every night, now, that’s how he ended their calls.

“Miss you”. Always soft, always careful, like he was afraid she would hang up on him a few seconds too early.

“Miss you, too”, she always responded.

.:.

He stayed in Chicago so long, she thought he was not gonna leave. He was there when the year ended, and she was on the phone with him while people counted down.

It was 00:01 when he said he missed her, making her wish she were in bed and not in Foggy’s apartment, surrounded by people, listening as the fireworks went off.

“Miss you, too”, she said, like always, taking a risk, really, because this time Matt was right there, with his superhearing and tendency to meddle. With an eye on her friend, just to make sure, she heard Frank take a deep breath, but he didn’t hang up, like always.

“I miss you”, he said again, low and short but firm, clear, and, again, she responded.

“I miss you, too.”

.:.

After Chicago, she lost track of both time and his location. He still told her where he was, but she made a point not to keep track anymore, because he was not coming back to her, so it was best to just let him be, and enjoy what little contact she had with him with these calls.

But even that, she knew, would have to end eventually.

But everytime her phone rang, and it was dark and quiet outside, she would hesitate for one second before picking up, sliding into bed and closing her eyes, imagining him to be there by her side.

And, every night:

“Miss you.”

.:.

This was not Josie’s, nor was it the diner they usually went to after work, it was not their usual scene. But Foggy seemed to know the guy behind the counter - like he knew everyone, apparently.

It was not better than Josie’s, but it was bigger than Josie’s. There was a small stage where a band played, and it was a little strange, seeing all these rough guys and rough women listening to what sounded like a hybrid of blues and ballads with a dash of country, soft and melodic and beautiful.

Foggy wallowed and he drank and he let it out, venting about how he didn’t really think he’d be here, because he wasn’t even sure what he had done (but he knew, he just didn’t know how to get out of it).

“What should I do, K?”

“Well, first, you’re gonna stop calling me K.”

He did that when he was drunk.

“Why is she so mad?!”

“Because, Foggy, you lied to her.”

“I didn’t lie! I just… Omitted the whole truth in order to protect both her physical integrity and her feelings!”

“Next time, maybe, instead of pulling this patronizing behavior, take it into consideration that she is also a very good professional that can help you. Marci’s a big girl, Fog, you don’t have to lie to keep her safe.”

“I know”, he said, forehead on the counter again, and Karen wondered if it was actually sticky of if she was just imagining it. “Shit, I know. But she won’t talk to me, so I have no way of apologizing. Will!”

The bartender made his way to them, looking both amused and impatient.

“More spirits, please.”

“Don’t you think a Sprite would be better?”

“No!”

Will looked at Karen, who shrugged, and then sighed, walking over to refresh Foggy’s glass.

And that’s when Karen saw him, suddenly, as if her eyes were being drawn like magnets, there he was, instead of Massachusetts or Ohio or Indiana or China, for that matter. And he looked back at her, that small, sheepish smile playing on his features, almost like he was a normal man, a normal guy coming back home to his… Whatever it was that she was to him.

“I don’t know what to do, K.” Foggy whined on after taking a sip of his fresh drink, dropping his head to the bar again right after. “She’s so mad at me, and I don’t even know how to fix it.”

She was barely comprehending him anymore, so stunned she was at the sight of Frank standing there.

Son of a bitch. First he rips her heart out of her chest just to break it, and then leaves, and then…

“You do know what to do, Foggy. You just have to… Suck it up and do it, even if sounds hard, right now.”

“But she’s so scary.”

“No, she’s not. She’s just frustrated, because you fucked up. But she loves you. You have to go there, apologize and try to fix it.”

“How do I fix it?”

“I don’t know! You’ll have to figure this one out by yourself. Or, better yet, ask her for help, I doubt she’s gonna deny it. Can you excuse me for one minute, please?”

“Are you gonna leave me, too?” he asked, big eyes on her, so drunk, poor thing.

“No, Fog, relax. I’m just gonna go to the restroom, that’s all.”

“Oh, ok”, he said, but she was already moving, walking towards the direction she had seen him, and when she turned a corner, there he was, almost hidden, waiting for her.

A million things, she wanted to say to him. A million and one, but she started with the basics while he leaned off the wall and took a step towards her.

“What are you doing here?”

His finger pushing a lock of her hair away from her face felt like a mild current, something charged but soft, creating a wave of pleasantness to pass through her.

“Wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me. Jesus Christ, Frank, I should shoot you where you stand!”, she let out, slapping a hand on his chest when he lifted both his hands to catch her face. And she might as well have tickled him, because he smiled.

“Please don’t.”

Karen looked at him, trying to tell herself that this was not what she thought it was. Maybe he needed her help again, and this was just another stunt he pulled to get her attention.

But he had never looked at her like this, not quite like this, he had never held her face between his hands like this, he had never stood this close, never like this, never when it’s not dangerous, never…

“I miss you”, he whispered, forehead touching hers, nose touching her cheek, breathing quietly against her. “Everyday, Kare, I miss you.”

She had her eyes closed already, a part of her enjoying, ready to jump, begging to surrender, to latch on, to believe him, she wanted to believe him so bad, she did believe him, but-

“Where have you been, then?”

“Making sure. Trying to… Get better, to figure out some things.”

He kissed her cheek and she got a hold of his shirt, honestly and sincerely unintentionally pulling, and he got closer, chest to chest toe to toe and her knees were about to give.

“Mainly missing you, though.”

Karen angled her head when he moved his hand to the back of her neck, opening her mouth to say something, to take a breath in, to let a breath out or to scream, who knows, but he kissed her, lips over hers, making a noise from his throat that made her arch her back slightly, just a tiny bit, towards him, which in turn made him move, open his mouth, swipe his tongue against her lip and then against hers, and there it was again, that cotton electricity, that feeling of finally, this is what you’ve been waiting for, this is it, that’s why you fought so hard that’s why you cried so much that’s why you miss him so much-

He kissed her like he had done it before, like he knew her, like he knew them, and it felt new but it felt… God, it felt…

It felt like them. Like Frank and Karen, like their thing that she could never explain to anybody, “why do you care so much about Frank Castle?” and “you two have a connection”.

That’s what it felt like. Obvious but private, particular and unexplainable, his kisses and his hands around her, her arms around him, her back against a wall, suddenly.

“Wait wait wait”, she said against his mouth, and he touched his forehead to hers yet one more time - just like they do - and hummed his question.

“Foggy, uh… Foggy’s gonna come looking for me. He tends to wander when he’s drunk, I should… I should get back.”

“Ok.”

And a nibble on her lower lip, chest pressed tight against hers, Lord almighty, she’ll fight the world for him-

“Ok, let me go.”

It was difficult, giving that up. Peeling herself away from him and that little corner he had backed them up against. She had repressed those kind of thoughts for so long, trying to get used to the fact that there is no Frank and Karen, but yes, there is, he’s here, he’s-

She pushed him away delicately, and he went easily enough, letting go of her lips last.

“Where, um…” Her thoughts, all over the place. “You’re not, you’re… Where are you going, now?”

“No plans”, and another little one, tiny one, just a little one kiss, to the very corner of her mouth. “So wherever you tell me to go, I guess.”

It seemed impossible, to stop kissing him, but then the image of Foggy wandering after her and catching her all tangled up in Frank Castle entered her mind, and she pushed him away again.

“Ok. Ok. Um… Go to my apartment. Ok? Can you wait for me there?”

He nodded, looking at her full of something that was almost completely foreign. Like that other time he was at her place offering her flowers, or when he met her by the water, before it turned dark and sour and difficult.

“Right. I’ll put Foggy in a cab, and then I’ll meet you there.”

“Ok.”

Looking at his face, she tried to put herself right, to go back to Foggy, the tip of her fingers roaming Frank’s face.

“Please be there when I arrive. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Go.”

Her arms around his neck, just one more time, just one more, just so she didn’t walk away and started wondering if she imagined him, and his were firm enough around her waist to reassure her.

“Right”, she said, pushing him off and walking away.

Before she actually let go of his hand, though, she turned back.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Um… Lieberman.”

“Lieber- You hacked my phone?”

“Not your phone, just your GPS.”

“That-” She interrupted herself, and took a short breath. “We’re gonna talk about that.”

“I’m sure we are.”

And then she walked away, feeling like she just had been in another dimension and then back.

“I drank your drink” Foggy informed her when she sat by his side again. “It was getting cold.”

“That’s fine, Fog. What do you say we head home? Hmm? Sleep this booze off so you can go and talk to Marci tomorrow?”

“But I…” He sighed, and Karen tried not to look at where Frank had been. “But we haven’t found the worm, yet.”

“I think it’s better if we don’t find it this time. Come on.”

He still made her sit down to finish another drink - “last call, come on” - and she had to hear him mumbling about Marci and some nonsensical thing about Matt and the Nelson deli and Punjabi lessons before he accepted it was time to go.

She took care of their tab while he drank from the bottle of water she got for him and tried to put his jacket back on.

After what seemed like a lifetime, she was able to put him in a cab and then hail one for herself.

Karen had just turned the kew on her lock a second time when she heard the bolt unlock from inside, and then the door knob was yanked away from her hand when the door swung open, and Frank pulled her inside, slamming it closed the second he was in, his arms around her, his mouth on hers, lips and teeth and tongue and that noise from his throat, hands pulling her shirt from inside her skirt, she kicked her shoes off, put her arms around his neck, opened her mouth to his kiss, made a noise of her own.

She had missed him, too. Much, much more than even she realized.