The first time Frank Castle and I met was in Iraq. I had needed assistance from a marine ( this had been an army/marine op ) in the field when an RPG whizzed past me. Frank, my damn hero, tackled me out of the way and damage was minimised. He asked me if I was alright, and when I said yes, he pulled me up and walked away.
The second time Frank Castle and I met was in the med bay. This was a year later after the RPG incident so I'm sure he'd have forgotten who I was by now. I was here for shrapnel in the back and two bullets to the left thigh. He, on the other hand, was here for several deep lacerations, a bullet wound and some debris picking. Idle time was passed with sharing some bone chilling stories about the past year.
The third and final time Frank Castle and I met before he became the Punisher was, inconsequentially, at the end of Curtis' veteran meeting. Both of us didn't like to be seen by the public and Curtis wasn't public. He was one trustworthy man. We both appreciated the company of each other and the company of our friend. That was the last time I would see Frank Castle without having to hold a certain opinion on him. Of course, my opinion stayed the same. He is human, he's a human who went through something unimaginable and is dealing with it in a way that most people wouldn't but this way is helping the NYPD.
Two Years Later
Today, news of the Punisher was ravishing the channels. Every damn way I turned was 'Punisher this' and 'Punisher that.' Yeah, he's murdering people. People who, if he had not, would've done worse than what he was.
{ a.n: i'm giving Y/N a last name to be called by H- }
"Hey, Briggs!" My partner Mahoney called across the precinct. "We got eyes on the Punisher at a near by hospital. Lets go!" All eyes were on me as I sluggishly lifted up from my chair. I was tired of pursuing him, like we needed another vigilante in Hell's Kitchen.
Mahoney shot out of the parking lot and took to the roads, wanting to get out ahead of this thing before the Punisher did anymore damage. Turns out, nearby had been a few blocks down the road and I was already taking up the stairs towards the commotion. I let Karen Page and her buddy through but the man following them was not who I expected, nor who I wanted the Punisher to turn out to be. "Castle?!" I whisper-yelled, holstering my gun.
"Briggs?" He asked back, his posture visibly relaxing at my body. Frank cut his lips tight, sagging down the stairs towards me. His back was slightly arched but not in an intimidating way. "Briggs, if you let me go after him, and not Karen, promise not to tell your dumbass partner who the Punisher is. Got it?" I looked Frank in the eyes, trying to avoid the desperation seeping in them, especially from a man who had been on a rampage just moments ago.
"Yeah, yeah I got you." I felt him pat my arm, give it a small squeeze and go on his way. "Be safe, Castle. Yeah?" I looked down through the small passage between the stairs and saw a small nod. Next thing I know, a huge ca-THUNK is heard as his boots hit the bottom. That? That was the fourth time I met Frank Castle.
Two months later, I was still hung up over this man. I hadn't gotten much sleep because I wanted to know if he was okay. Frank Castle was a man of mystery, maybe the biggest mystery out there. Personally, I'd made it my mission to solve him. "Briggs, stay safe out there. With this Daredevil running around and now the Punisher? I can't risk my best detective getting hurt or worse. Killed." I froze at the door and tried not to crush my cup of freshly brewed coffee in my hand.
Coming from Connelly, from my boss, just hearing him say that made my blood boil. Sure, the man didn't know Castle the way I did, the raw emotions pouring out of him at seeing Maria, as well as little Frankie and Lisa being brutally murdered right in front of him, the hours spent figuring out how to handle that. Connelly had no right to think of him like that, no. Not until he had a well rounded education in Frank Castle.
The doors crashed together as I left in a hurry, just wanting to get home and away from that place. My apartment wasn't far, about two blocks from my work place. In my arrival, the doorman spoke, "There's a rather um... beaten man waiting for you at your doorstep, miss. He said he needed help and could only trust you." I booked it up three flights if stairs, gripping the railing at the blood stain in front of my door.
"Frank?" I whispered, stepping over him to unlock the door. He grunted as I lifted him up by the collar to drag him further into my apartment so it'd seem less suspicious to maybe my neighbours. "Oh god, Frank. What the absolute fuck?" I wearily peeled off his clothes, layer by layer until this process revealed the problem. Per se, problems. Frank was bleeding from... well, everywhere. Too many cuts to count, a few bullet wounds, no exits and cracked ribs. This would be a long night and next few days.
I threw some gloves on, preparing myself for pulling out the bullets lodged in his abdomen, leg and arm. "Hurry up. I ain't got all day, Briggs..." Frank coughed out, blood dribbling down his face. For a second or two, I stayed right where I was, too afraid to do anything. This was not something I had ever done. This is what Curtis would do but this was not a time to call Curtis. If I were to save him, save Frank, I'd have to do it with my own two hands.
"Here goes," I gulped, sticking my thumb and pointer finger into the first bullet wound, the most pressing wound if I had to assume. Even as a detective, someone who saw this normally, I had to try my damnedest to ignore the squishing sound, as well as the worry bubbling in my throat.
I couldn't even remember the last few hours as I sat on the couch, Frank's head in my lap. Everything was a blur. From finding my friend barely conscious and bleeding out on the ground to stitching and dressing his wounds. His face, most of it, was scattered with bruises not of the normal faded purple. These bruises were a deep purple, most likely ones that would get darker in the passing weeks.
I met Frank Castle five times before he decided we shouldn't be meeting in awkward conflicts with my job. I'd figure out the living situation later but no one would expect the Punisher to be living with a cop, of all people. "Hey, Briggs?" Frank called from the living room, waving an empty bowl at me. "Berry me."
"Of course, you dummy." Looking at the blueberries, noticing there was only a couple left, I gently tossed the container at him and chuckled when it knocked into his head. Frank rubbed his head at the nuisance, chalking me a simple 'hey! watch where ya throw shit, briggs!' "Sorry?" I chuckled, plating the chicken I had been prepping for the next week.
"Hey, that chicken smells delightful. Mind sharin'?" He said, kind of groaning when I denied him the right to eat my delicious but 'for meal prep, doofus' chicken and rice. "Well, if you won't share your chicken with me, at least share yourself." His head turned to face mine with a look I hadn't seen before. Sure, it was dark but not in his murderous way. It was in a sort of lustful way, tucking the innuendo in nicely to his remark.
Surprisingly, I enjoyed that look and the feelings within it to the fullest.
The next day was more stressful than the day before. A series of brutal killings, anywhere from peeling and burning to off the hook beatings, were floating around Hell's Kitchen, falling upon us police. "Hey, Briggs. Do you believe that this is the work of the Punisher?" I opened the file my partner handed me, deftly flipping through the morbid photos.
"No. I've been to enough crimes scenes of the Punisher to know how he operates. With him, his kills are rational and less brutal. He's never skinned or burned anyone, not that I know of." My partner gave me a skeptical look and a 'huh' that left nothing to the suspicious mind. I turned and left the room, making sure no one was around for this phone call.
"Frank?" I asked into the phone, tapping my foot anxiously. Even if this wasn't him, my coworkers would still go after him. Cage him like the animal they believe he is. But that's exactly what he isn't. He is a man getting rid of his regret in a way not most would consider okay. At the end of the day, what he does gets criminals off the streets and he's my person, my rock in a hard place.
"Yeah, Briggs? Everything okay at work?" Over the phone I could hear the couch shift as he moved from laying down to sitting up. He was worried.
"I-I know this-this isn't you. But I-I just wanted to-to make s-sure..." I can feel my hammering my chest in a wavering beat, my breath coming out in short, staggered breaths. "Uhm, were y-you involved in these recent kill-killings?"
"Hell no! Briggs, I-I wouldn't jeopardize your job like that. You mean too much to me. Please. Please! Be safe. I can't lose you, too." Even with all his marines training, all of it put together and thrown in a bottle, it did not prepare him for having to handle a criminal getting too close to home, me. Too close to me.
"Oh, thank god. My-my partner thinks it could be you or some-someone trying to frame you. I know you, that you're all 'Hey, I'm a big macho man. Ain't nobody gonna touch me. I'm invincible.' But Frank, you're not. You're not invincible. You're human, my human. And I can't bear to lose you either." The breathless chuckle on the other side of this call gave off a sense of ease in these daring times.
"Just... stay safe out there, alright? If you need me, you know how to reach me." And the conversation was left at that. For once, I knew I'd be okay.
Later that day, we had tried to pursue the suspect. That didn't work out so well. I was limping into the precinct, having to swing my leg around to get it over the next step. Whatever the hell had happened, knocked my memory the fuck out.
"Briggs and Watson, take the left. Barnes and I will take the right. Be careful. This guy is, after all, better than the punisher." Connelly ordered, already slowly stepping into the shadows. The overwhelming temptation to just beat the living day lights was beginning to grow. How he could just assume Castle couldn't be human, that the Punisher isn't just a facade for him.
Our steps were quieter than a mouse so when we were ambushed from every side... Well, we were, to say the least, surprised. Bullets flew everywhere, ones hard to dodge, ones we had to just power through and take like a man.
I didn't know who threw the first punch, but suddenly my fist was slamming into her face while she sunk into my stomach. Blood pooled in her mouth as I gagged. We stumbled apart for a brief second to catch our breaths when I felt a bat crash into the back of my leg. A cry of pain escaped my lips and I crumpled to the floor, attempting to push myself up on my injured arm.
Soon, I was surrounded by brainwashed men and women who began kicking me in places that I didn't know existed. They were relentless, kicking over and over in the same places, each one harder than the last. By now, I'm looking like a bruised peach. Frank'll be pissed, he's the only one that gets to mark me. Speaking of Frank, I pulled out my phone and speed dialed him, 'Help...' was all I croaked out for him to know.
That must be why I'm soaked in blood and alive. He must be why I'm at the precinct. Frank was smart enough to know that if he took me, it'd look suspicious on him. "I'll say this once and only once. Thank god the Punisher was there. He saved you, Briggs. Saved us. Guns blazing, voice screaming. Why? Why did he spare you? Spare us? What's going on?" Connelly approached me when I finally sat down.
I looked up at him, the pain in my neck throbbing but I had to face him eventually. "You want the truth? The cold, hard, fucking truth?" I seethed, leaning forward to emphasize the importance. "The truth is that the Punisher and the Daredevil, whoever they may be... I believe that they are human, just like the rest of us. I believe that instead of following the law of justice, they find a way of justice to help us. I believe that they are good people who went through something awful and it's made them see the world differently."
"I believe that the Punisher went through something personal, something bad and he wants to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone again so he kills people. He kills people who deserve it. People who... People who have caused damage to Hell's Kitchen, to families that are as innocent as innocent gets. And I also believe that, as defenders of the law, we are held to the standards of at least giving these damn people the time of day. We are held to higher standards of defending the law but also the standards of hearing the reason why they arrived to the epiphany they're at, not blatantly disregard their rights because of who they present themselves as a person."
"It's our 8th amendment right. It says, in the Constitution, the very foundation of which our profession is built upon, "Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted." The Punisher saved me because I didn't deserve it. Neither did you, Watson or Barnes, as much of a perv as he may be. Today, I lived because he a) doesn't kill women, b) has a code to kill anybody who made him appear as a menace to the public and c) kills those who deserve to die, like the people he killed tonight. Does that answer your question, Captain?" The anger inside of me, the one that's been building up ever since the public has disrespected these men, Frank and Matt, not daring to see the other side of the line. One way or another, it was going to erupt. Whether it be on Frank or my boss, it would burst the bubble I've been sitting dearly in.
"Quite... throughly, Detective Briggs. Also," he sucked in his teeth and clicking his tongue. "you're on administrative leave. I'm going have to take your gun and badge." In this moment, I had never felt so much rage towards a person. Never, my feelings had always been contained. I was trained that way, made that way even. But when I wasn't allowed to have a solid opinion, when I wasn't given the time of day... Boy, did that fire me up.
"Okay..." Putting aside the violent thoughts of pummeling his face in, even in my condition I could beat his ass, I calmly set the two objects on my desk. "You... You will come to regret this decision Connelly." I struggled to stand up, one arm 'dead' from being shot, the other in pure exhaustion but I made it. The hardest part was swinging my left leg around to gain even a foot towards the door.
When I get home, there'd be hell to pay. So much of it. But I'd also have to scold Frank, for the sixth time we 'met' had almost cost me my job.
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I know this isn't what I usually write about but I need a buffer between the wanda fic