So, here is the first one-shot ! Hope you'll like it :)

The inspiration for this one came from that line in Daredevil season 2, about holding to what we care about, because I instantly had a very specific image in my head... Read to know which one :D


Title : Hold on with both hands


The first thing that hit Karen as she entered the not-so-good-looking building was the drench of gunpowder and freshly spilled blood.

She froze at the entrance, even though the insides sounded totally still. The young journalist's fingers clenched onto the camera she had brought with her for her investigation. Despite her common sense screaming at her – don't do that, don't freaking do that Karen for God's sake – she took a few steps forward and then stopped again for her eyes to adapt to the darkness. She wasn't foolish enough to just take out her flashlight and make of herself a perfect shooting target along the way.

There were two dead bodies in this room, headshot cleanly. Their weapons laid beside them. Karen took a few pictures – things were more bearable through the camera lens – then she dived further away into the building. They were more corpses there, most of them killed by a single bullet.

One shot, one kill.

She bit her lower lip. Yeah, she was probable gazing at The Punisher's work, she had very little doubts about it. She was after child traffickers – no wonder that kind of smuggling had pissed him off.

Frank Castle.

She couldn't help but remember his face, his voice, his scarred hands she always looked at when she didn't dare meeting his eyes. Her heart clenched at the thought of those eyes of his, awfully dark when he was pissed off, and so warm and soft when he was looking at her...

They had met a few times, after that night where he killed the Blacksmith. They had ran into each other in the streets, mostly at night when she was coming home alone – it had actually occured a little bit too often for her to call it a coincidence – but oddly, she found herself okay with it. They even had had a coffee together, once, in the Bronx. It had been like that first evening in the dinner, except no one had been murdered in the end. It had been a good time.

Karen shook her head, pushing the memories away, and entered cautiously another room. Bloodied ground, bullet-ridden bricks, more dead bodies – but this time the smugglers seemed to have fought back more effectively. Karen's heart missed a beat when her gaze fell on someone sitted on the floor, leaning against the wall. His chest was still going up and down as he breathed – and it had a white spray-painted skull on it.

The young woman stood there for a while, debating what she should possibly do, then her legs carried her next to the wounded man and she kneeled down beside him on the hard floor. She noticed in a blink the as-always bruised face, the bullet wound at his shoulder, the bleeding leg. However, she didn't realize he had opened his dark eyes until he spoke, startling her.

"Ma'am ?"

He sounded confused, and tired. She didn't know what to do.

"What are ya doin' there ?"

"I... I was investigating on a dealer group. I wanted to found evidences" She added gesturing toward the camera hanging around her neck. "I didn't think I would stubble accross freshly dead bodies."

"Could put a good final dot for your paper, uh ?" He said with a grin accross his face.

She shook her head, one of her blonde lock slipping accross her face at the motion. Maybe it was denial, but Karen didn't want to know more about this. Besides... she was actually more than worried about Frank's physical state.

"Just tell me you aren't planning on joining all those men anytime soon" She said – almost begging.

Her eyes were locked on his bleeding shoulder, trying to decide rather it was life-threatening or not, despite her obvious lack of medecinal knowledge.

"Ya concerned 'bout me, Ma'am ?"

He seemed slightly amused.

"Yes," She admitted frantically. "For how long have you been there ?"

He shrugged – then winced in pain at the motion.

"Dunno. Maybe an hour."

"You passed out ?"

He didn't answer.

Karen was trying to steady her breathing and to think straight. She finally dived into her pocket for her phone – even her hands were shaking, god damnit.

"I should call the hospital."

Frank's hand caught her wrist, stopping her.

"No" he said firmly.

"But you..."

"Ain't goin' back to jail."

"You are bleeding out !"

"I have seen worst" He muttered while trying to get back on his feet.

She looked at him in disbelief, however she backed off a bit. Frank finally managed to stand up in front of her, clenching onto the brick wall, his good leg wobbling under his weight.

"Where are you planning to go now ?" Karen asked.

"Home."

She raised one eyebrow.

"At foot ? I didn't saw any vehicule parked outside."

He mumbled something, shifted a little so his wounded leg carry a bit of his weight and lost his balance with a grunt of pain. The blonde woman kept him from falling.

"You're not going anywhere in this state. Come. My car is close to the building entrance."

Her blue eyes caught his dark ones – as always, Karen felt like he could stare directly at her core. She felt her heart pounding in her chest and she bit down her lower lip.

"Why are ya doin' that, Ma'am ?"

She hesitated for a few secs, then she decided to just tell the truth. Her right hand brushed against his cheek, softly enough to not hurt him despite his bruises.

"Because someone once told me to hold on what I care about, to use two hands and to never let go."

With that, she put her other hand at the side of Frank's face and kissed him. When she took a step backward, he just looked back at her, puzzled. She smiled. She came close again and drew an arm around his waist to steady him.

"Come" She repeated. "And you can call me Karen."

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Frank was smiling too.


Please, let me know your thoughts about it ;)

(Btw, sorry if there are any mistake here, english isn't my mother tongue)