Chapter Text
Karen Page is feeling somewhat optimistic for the first time in what feels like years. Walking leisurely home after a long day in the office, a pleasant Spring breeze blew her lightly curled hair from her face and it was warm enough she could carry her jacket folded over her arms. Things have settled into a relatively calm routine, as calm as they can be in Hell's Kitchen anyway. Nelson, Murdock and Page are fighting the good fight with a steady clientele that may even allow them to move out of the back of the butcher shop someday. Her and Matt finally recovered their friendship to a comfortable place, she still had trouble giving him her full trust but no longer felt like punching him at a moment's notice. Well, maybe she only got the urge every once and awhile now. Fisk was still locked away and due to the many vigilantes roaming around New York, crime had actually lulled a bit over the past year.
She tried to tell herself she didn't still feel an aching loss where a certain brooding vigilante with an incredible kill count used to be. She could pretend it wasn't there most days, only letting the ache and bitterness take over during especially bad moments. Karen hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of him but she tracked body counts of gang members and human traffickers, having no doubt who was behind those crime scenes.
All in all though, things were going well and Karen felt like, just maybe, things were going to be alright.
How incredibly, childishly naive of her.
She would have laughed at her own foolishness if her searing ribs would allow her to draw in any breath. She had barely registered the fact she had been pulled into the alleyway before the blows started. Just as quickly as they had begun they stopped and Karen was being held up by her throat, "Mr. Fisk sends his regards, Ms. Page." Then suddenly she was doubling over when the final blow punctuated the message perfectly.
Trying valiantly not to retch, Karen whipped her head up to try and catch a glimpse of her assailant but he was long gone. Only giving herself a second to collect her bearings and ignore the burning of ribs, she stood unsteadily, placing one hand in her bag to grip her .380 while the other cradled her throbbing torso.
A cold calm washed over her as she finished her walk home, barely processing the words the man had said. There would be time to think about that later, first she needed to get home alive. Instead, she focused on her surroundings, eyeing every corner critically, keeping as much distance between herself and other commuters as possible. She needed to call Matt but first she had to get to her apartment, somewhere secure, it wouldn't do to have this conversation on the street. It was sickening to think that Fisk was making power moves again after such a short time. The fact that he had his sights set on her wasn’t a comforting thought either considering what had transpired the last time they saw one another.
It felt like an eternity before she was stumbling up the steps to her apartment. Each breath felt like another blow to her abused ribs and stomach and her nerves became more and more frayed the closer she got to her door. She stopped short with a quiet, "Oh what the fuck now," when she saw an envelope pinned to her door that simply read 'Ms. Karen Page' in flowing script. Ripping it down, she quickly unlocked the door before slamming it back in place and replacing all the locks.
Karen thought ruefully she would have done Frank proud the way she diligently stalked through her apartment, gun at the ready. Once she had assured herself there was no one waiting in the dark corners of her home, Karen hesitantly stood at her kitchen island with the envelope resting in front of her. Reaching for her phone she began to dial Matt’s number as she ripped the letter open and began skimming through the lines. She abruptly hit end on the call before it had a chance to connect, the neat script making her blood run cold before everything went numb:
Greetings Ms. Page,
I hope life has been treating you well. By now, I presume you have received my first correspondence. You see, I have had quite a lot of time here in my cage to think about what you said Ms. Page, about my dear friend James.
For a moment, I did wonder about his duplicity. Had he betrayed me? Had my faith been misplaced in this man? However, just as he always did, James only had my best interest at heart. He strove to build a better future for our city, he worked tirelessly to see my dreams come to fruition. That is, until you murdered him Ms. Page. Try as I might to let this go, I am afraid you must be held responsible for your actions.
Of course, in order to keep my dear Vanessa safe, I will remain in this cell you and your friends so kindly placed me in. I do have an agreement with Mr. Murdock after all.
So, I am going to give you a choice, much like James did so long ago. You can remain in the city, tell Mr. Murdock and the police, and then watch your friends slowly fall around you. You see, these prison walls are barely an inconvenience, it will take very little effort to find Mr. Nelson and his lovely fiance Marci, Detective Mahoney and his elderly mother, Mr. Ellison at his slanderous newspaper, and of course Matthew Murdock would not be exempt from my retribution.
Your other option, Ms. Page, is to run. I will have you pursued of course, nowhere you go will be out of my reach. Give me the thrill of the hunt to keep me occupied while I wait behind these bars. Rest assured, I will have you hunted down, Ms. Page. You will suffer for what you have done.
The choice is yours, remain in the city and die, only after those around you have died for your cause, or run and it will only be your death.
Will it be your blood or theirs Ms. Page?
Sincerely,
Wilson Fisk
Strangely the first thought that hit her was how ballsy it was of him to sign his name to such an incriminating and threatening letter. It only took a moment for her to remember that Wilson Fisk was untouchable, even now. If the evidence they had compiled against him already didn't slow him down, nothing would.
Her second thought blurred into momentary panic, sharp intakes of breath that reminded her of her earlier assault. The pain grounded her enough to regain her footing. "Okay, enough of that, it isn't going to change anything." Karen speared her fingers through her hair, gripping the pale blonde lockes at the the sides of her head, taking a moment to think.
First things first, Karen gingerly prods her side determining that, despite the fact they hurt like hell, she doesn't have any broken ribs. Next, she checks the bus schedules out of the city. While she waited for them to load her eyes roamed her apartment, landing on a vase that once held white roses. Karen briefly considered running to the florist but with a roll of her eyes, quickly set that idea aside. It’s not like the intended person would see them anyway and she didn’t want him to see them either. The less people involved, the better.
Glancing through the schedule she had an idea of which bus she would be departing on so the next course of action was to gather what few things she could and be gone before she lost her nerve.
The longer she was in the city, the more danger her friends were in, so she grabbed what little bit she could, left a note on her kitchen island she was sure Matt or Foggy would find eventually and broke the sim card in her phone, leaving it as well. She silently thanked her own paranoia as she had several hundred dollars in cash she had squirreled away over the course of a year. It wouldn't last forever but it would give her time to figure something out. Hopefully.
Karen Page had a lot of blood on her hands, she'd be damned if anyone else died because of her. She turned around, giving her apartment a quick glance, trying not to think about how it could be her last look before the door shut behind her and only echoing silence was left.
----
Frank was in a foul mood. Not that he was ever in a sunny disposition but today had him especially grumpy. He had spent the better part of the last 4 months weeding out and demolishing this human trafficking ring and was now on the last handful of shitbags before he finished the job. But of course, some hopped up holy roller in red pajamas had to show up and get in the damn way.
"What the fuck Red? I thought we had come to some kind of understanding. Specifically, you staying out of my fucking way." He punctuated the statement with a knife under one of the men's ribcage, quickly cutting off a scream with a punctured lung.
Daredevil turned from landing a vicious kick to a man's temple to knock the knife out of Frank's hand with one of his batons before sending it flying across the building to effectively knock the last man unconscious.
His voice was slightly labored when he finally answered, "I don't recall any sort of arrangement. I should be taking you to the police station right now." He turned his eerie gaze on Frank which had Frank squaring up and ready to put up a fight. He had no interest in killing Daredevil but he would be willing to hurt him if it meant he wouldn't end up back in prison. However, with a resigned sigh, the red-clad vigilante put away his remaining baton and held up his hands in a peace offering.
"I actually was just trying to find you for some information you may have, I don't really have the time to fight you right now." He really did look pretty haggard, Frank thought. That didn't make him any more willing to cooperate though.
"Sorry Red, I'm sure I don't have any information to help your crusade." He said, his voice low and harsh as he bent to pick up the pistol that had been knocked from his hand previously, checked the remaining rounds before securing it and returning it to the holster. He took a bit of satisfaction from the exasperated huff behind him, wiping the blood from his busted lip and starting to limp off.
"I need to know if you have been in contact with Karen Page."
Frank did his best to hide the way his entire body tensed and the way his breath seized in his lungs for a fraction of a second. When he slowly turned around though, he could tell he wasn't entirely successful by the sour look on the other man's face.
"I know you two have a...history of some sort. I was wondering if you had heard from her recently." His voice was tense, like every word felt like broken glass he had to force past his lips.
This night just kept getting better and better. Just what he wanted to top off this clusterfuck, more reason to worry after Karen Page's well-being. The sneer on his face was reflected thickly in his voice, "She's your friend, Murdock , she would have spoken to you before she did me. In fact, I don't think you have to worry about her speaking to me ever again." He tried not to sound bitter, it was after all his intention to drive her away all those months ago.
The small flinch Matt gave at hearing his name showed that he had held out some hope that maybe Frank hadn't known his identity. No such luck, Red . It only took him a second to recover though, his head tilting in that way he does when he hears something interesting. Trying to move this conversation along so he could go home and brood alone, he growled, "Did you think to give her a call, Red? Why the hell are looking for her if you see her everyday?"
"I haven't seen or heard from her since Friday afternoon when she left the office for the day. She wasn't at work today." Frank scowled, it was Monday evening. Before he could follow up with another question, Matt continued, "I tried calling her this morning but her phone said it was out of service. When I visited her apartment she didn't answer there either. It didn't seem like she had been there for quite some time."
Frank squared up with the other man once more, listening intently. There was no reason to get anxious yet. Karen Page was incredibly independent, she could have just chosen to take a weekend trip or maybe she just didn't want to talk to Matt Murdock.
As if he could sense Frank's thoughts, Matt gave a sharp shake of his head, "She would have told Foggy or I if she was going somewhere. Besides, when I went into her apartment, I found her cellphone with the sim card broken beside it as well as her laptop. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without that. I've been getting word that Fisk has been busy during his detainment at Rikers. I’m concerned that he may have gotten to Karen somehow."
Just hearing Karen's name in the same discussion as Wilson Fisk's had Frank instantly on edge, his brows drawing together and his voice coming out rough, "What the hell does Fisk have to do with Karen? You're the one that was always in his way, why would he go after her and not you?" Suddenly his anxiety started to bleed into rage, "Did you get her involved in your shit Red?" He took a threatening step forward, hands tightening into fists when he saw guilt pass over the other man's face, "What, you started writing checks and dragging her into shit and now she has to cash them?” Frank turned to the side, shaking his head with disgust before he turned back, “This is why your way doesn't work. You preach about givin' people another chance and all you've done is given Fisk a chance to go after Karen!"
Matt's own anger started to boil to the surface, "Karen has her own history with Fisk, she is the one who initially brought his crimes to the light. Among other things. I believe it is the other things that has him after her, if it is him at all." It really didn't surprise Frank at all to hear that Karen picked a fight with Fisk. With a derisive snort Matt stepped toe to toe with Frank, "I'll put Fisk away a million times by the book before I turn into a murderer like you. I can protect Karen and this city without slaughtering people."
It was taking every bit of Frank's remaining willpower not to punch the man. If he were honest, the biggest thing that stopped him was he knew how hard that ridiculous horned helmet was. So he turned on his heels striding towards the exit, throwing biting words over his shoulder, he figured those would do more damage to the altar boy anyway, "You are clearly doing a bang up job of protecting her Red, considerin' you can't even find her. She probably took off to handle it herself, she's tough as nails and has more sense than you. She knows your way doesn't always work."
Without slowing down to see if there were any retort, Frank strode out of the warehouse heading straight for the van he had parked several blocks away. His head was churning with possibilities, a plan half formed before he climbed into the driver seat and tore off in the direction of Hell's Kitchen. First, he would get into her apartment to see if there were any clues. If he didn't find enough information there, he would have to reach out to David. The hacker would be able to track her movements through the city. He really didn't want to involve him if he could avoid it but if Karen had been missing since Friday night, he would need help figuring out a direction.
Briefly Frank wondered to himself if he should be doing this. He and Karen had split ways with a certain finality all those months ago, was it even his place to get involved? He then thought of Fisk and the raw power the man had both physically and in regards to his grip on the city. Just the idea of Fisk backing Karen into a corner had him pushing the accelerator and trying not to let the rage take over. He had pushed Karen away, yes, but it was to keep her safe. He'd be damned if he or anyone else ruined her life. If he knew she was in danger, there was no way he could sit back and do nothing. Not after everything she has done for him. If it turned out she was fine, all the better, she could scream at him 'til she was red in the face and he would take it happily if it meant she was okay.
Either way, he wouldn't rest until he knew that Karen Page was safe.