Broken Pieces: A Punisher Fanfiction

Dinner Time

Chapter 8

It was definitely one of those nights. Lauren sat in front of her laptop, staring at a blank document. She went about reviewing her notes and read up on the news about the Punisher. The front page news provided a blurred out photo of him and as she looked closely, his shape and form felt familiar to her.

What if he was right under my nose this whole time? She wondered.

All of a sudden, her stomach rumbled. Checking the time, she realized that it was dinner time. With just a click of an app on her phone, dinner—from the Thai takeout place downstairs—was due to arrive in about a half an hour.

About a half an hour later, she heard a knock on her door. The knock took her by surprise but snapped her out of it nonetheless. When she went to open the door, she was taken by surprise to find Frank standing outside in the hallway. "Frank," she sighed in relief, placing a hand over her chest. "Hey."

He held up a takeout box in return. "I believe this belongs to you," he said, handing it to her. "They delivered it to the wrong door."

"Right," she said, chuckling nervously. As he turned to leave, a thought soon occurred to her. "Wait!"

He looked over his shoulder.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked, trying her best not to sound hopeful.

Frank can hear the girl shuffling through the kitchen while he waited in the living room. He could vaguely remember the last time he stepped foot in her apartment. It was when she got really drunk and had to carry her down from the rooftop. Despite her tiny stature, he was surprised that she could down whiskey so easily. As soon as he laid her down on her bed, he helped her into a change of clothes then quickly left when she was finally settled in and sound asleep.

He could not have agreed with her more when she told him to never bring alcohol around her anymore.

He had not wanted to get involved with her but the girl was persistent. Another part of him grew a bit worried about her, especially after that drunken spiel. He was coming to realize that she was almost just as lonely as he was. When he saw her at the cemetery, he began to wonder why she was there.

The chime of her laptop woke him from his reverie. He looked down at the device on the coffee table to see that an article about the Punisher and the Devil of Hells Kitchen. Out of curiosity, he decided to bend over and placed his finger on the touchpad to scroll down and read through the article. Another notification popped up: an email from the New York Bulletin. Before he could navigate over to the email, Lauren's voice rang out from behind.

"Hey, I couldn't find any soy sauce so I hope you're okay with Sriracha. I mean, if you want, I can always run down to the store—"

She stopped abruptly, to see him sitting on her couch, waiting patiently. Then, she noticed the cluttered paperwork on her coffee table. "Oh my gosh," she quickly said, walking over to the coffee table to pick up. "Sorry for the mess! I didn't realize how messy it was!"

"It's alright," he told her. "And, I'm fine with Sriracha."

She gave him a relieved smile. "What would you like to drink?" she asked.

"Not whiskey," he said, his lips slowly curling into a smile.

She gave a fake laugh. "Very funny," she deadpanned. Just the thought of whiskey brought back that horrid memory from that night.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She was pretty sure she must have said something to him that night that she instantly regretted. Lauren really wanted to know what she told him. She knew he wasn't going to tell her because her neighbor was not the type of person who talks. She was even surprised that he even decided to join her for dinner.

"I'm fine with water," he told her.

"Sounds good," she said, as she made her way back to the kitchen.

As she was walking over to the fridge to grab two bottles, a knock on the door rang out, echoing throughout the small apartment. Alarmed, Lauren furrowed her eyebrows, wondering who it could be since she never had visitors. When she saw Frank getting up, she assured him. "It's fine, Frank," she told him. "You sit down. I got it."

He nodded. "Okay."

And when she finally opened the door, Lauren was stunned to come face to face with James. Sharply dressed in a pinstriped navy suit, he was giving her that half smirk that made her heart flutter. "Surprise," he greeted her, holding up a bottle of Stella Rosa Black.

"James," she uttered. "What are you doing here?"

He let himself in, handing her the bottle of wine. "You've been avoiding me so I decided to come see you myself."

"I've been busy," she simply said.

"With what?" he asked, taking a look inside her kitchen. He looked disappointed. From what Lauren could remember, James was always critical of her. She always felt like she had to do something to impress him. When Rosie was alive, she knew how to keep him in check. "Nice place." He soon spotted the to-go boxes on the counter. "Is that Thai food I'm smelling?"

"Yes," Lauren replied, trying not to sound annoyed.

"Great!" he beamed, making his way into her kitchen. "I was hungry."

When he got to her kitchen, he froze when he came face to face with Frank.

"Who are you?" James demanded.

Frank gave him a hard look before opening his mouth to speak but Lauren stepped right in between them.

"James, this is Frank, my neighbor," Lauren chimed in. "Frank, this is my friend, James."

James extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Frank."

Frank hesitated before shaking his hand. "Likewise," Frank replied dryly.