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Maria’s not sure why she’s here.
It might be the blood loss.
It might be the way her heart speeds up when she saw her silhouette in the window. Or the way she becomes short of breath when she hears her voice through the thin glass. Or the way she feels faint when she thinks of her.
Though, those all could also be because of the blood loss.
Maria sighs as she settles outside of the window, the hard metal of the fire escape doing a tremendous job of digging into her tailbone. She’s got the bleeding from her graze wound stopped but her hair is still soaked and slightly drippy. All in all, she ain’t doing great, just alright.
She focusing on breathing through the pain and thinking of what she should do, here. Should she go inside? Should she just sit here until she passes out? Should she leave and go fix herself up in her shitty studio apartment, where no one asks questions about the blood under her fingernails or the way she’s never there?
“Maria?” She flinches and whips around to meet her eyes, concerned and deep, beautiful blue.
“Oh my god,” Karen breathes when she sees the blood covering her face. “Are you okay?”
“Not really,” Maria answers honestly. She didn't really mean to be honest.
“What are you doing here?” Karen asks and gets comfy on her window sill. Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun, and she's wearing just a tank top and some leggings.
“Would you believe me if I said I was just in the neighborhood?” She asks, and Karen purses her lips. “Yeah. Thought so. No, I just needed… somewhere to rest. Somewhere safe.”
The look Karen gives her is filled with emotions she has neither the energy nor correct amount of blood to even attempt to file through. She just mostly looks worried, honestly. “You can come in, you know. You can rest inside, where it’s warm. And safer.” She offers, because Karen is so, so kind. One of the best parts about Karen Page is how she’s so compassionate.
All heart, as Frank would say.
“I’ll be alright,” She answers. Not very honestly. She can tell she’s very not alright mostly because of the black spots dancing in her vision. “Y’ don’t gotta worry.”
“Of course you are, and I’m the Queen of France.” Karen says, annoyed. No, not the right emotion. Exasperated. God, she’s tired. “Come on.”
Maria can’t find it in herself to refuse. She can’t find it in herself to do much than let herself be dragged inside and guided to the couch.
Karen frowns as she examines her head wound. “You’re going to need stitches.” She says and whisks away down her hall. Maria is left alone for thirty seconds before she returns with a first aid kit that seems to contain more than just first aid.
“After Matt came around with like, six shrapnel wounds, I decided I needed an upgrade.” Karen explains without prompting. “Really shouldn’t be using sewing needles sanitized with a lighter anymore, anyways.”
"Smart," Fingers press gently on the underside of Maria’s chin as her face is lifted up. Karen dabs at the slash on her face with an antiseptic soaked cotton ball, her tongue between her lips as it pokes gently out of her mouth. She has strands of blonde hair falling on her shoulders and a steady gaze on what she’s doing.
Normally, Maria would be able to control herself and her thoughts. Right now, with this level of blood loss, she finds herself yearning to tuck a strand behind Karen’s ear and lean in closer.
She winces without thinking when a needle sinks into her skin, and Karen’s eyes flicker to hers. “Sorry.” She tells her, softly. The eye contact lingers, just for a moment, before her attention is back on the wound with gentle fingers and sharp stabs of pain, both cutting through Maria’s hazy mind at the same intensity.
It’s making Maria feel dizzy. All she can smell is green apple conditioner and floral perfume, all she can see is these intense, focused eyes and pink cheek all she can feel is the way her heart is going insane. She watches with wide eyes as Karen snips the thread and packs everything away again.
She misses the fingers pressing onto her forehead for only a moment before they return, this time with a hand cupping her cheek and turning her head this way and that. Karen hums in appreciation of her own handiwork. “Looks good.”
Karen looks her in the eyes again and pauses. This… this can’t be real. The way she’s looking at her right now is so much. It’s like everything else in the world melts away and it’s just her. Only her. And that’s-- that's more than fine. That's far more than just fine.
Maria feels the barest hint of a thumb stroking her cheekbone, so soft and so tender it takes her breath away. She thinks she’s imagining it when Karen’s eyes glance at her lips. She habitually wets them with her tongue.
Then, she’s pulling away. Picking up the kit and walking away, muttering about how she needs to wash the blood off her hands.
Maria can barely think. This is bad. She- she should go. She needs to go. She can’t be here, just by being here, she’s putting Karen in danger. She needs to leave.
But the sofa is so soft, and it’s so warm here, and maybe her heart is pounding against her ribcage but she feels safe . Maria doesn’t even feel safe when sleeping in her tiny, shitty apartment with a gun under her pillow and a knife in her hand.
(She hasn’t felt safe since she got a letter telling her that Frank was K.I.A., that there wasn’t enough of him left to send home to bury, or even just burn. Not since she’d read that letter and her chest felt empty and hollow when she realized she needed to tell her kids they were never going to see their dad ever again.)
(Not since she decided to put it off, just for today, just to let them have today, and then decided to take them to the carousel in the park, instead.)
Karen returns with her hair down and hands washed. She sees Maria and a smile appears on her lips. “You comfortable?”
Maria hums and sinks lower in the cushions. “It’s a nice couch.”
“That’s why I got it,” She says, amusement playing in her voice. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Coffee?” She asks. “With sugar.”
“I know how you like your coffee, Maria. No cream, three sugars.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Karen says earnestly.
Something pops up in Maria’s mind that makes her laugh aloud. “What’s so funny?” Karen asks from the kitchen.
“Oh, I just…” Maria sighs, but not sadly. “When Lisa was little, not even two yet, I let her try some of my coffee. I was expecting her to hate it but when she took a sip she just smacked her lips and asked for more.”
Karen laughs and comes around with two mugs, handing one to her and sitting on the other side of the couch. “Oh my gosh, that sounds so cute.”
“It was. She was so cute as a baby.” Maria smiles, her heart growing heavy. “They both were. Frank was so good with them, too, when he was home. I kind of thought, y’know, he’d be the stereotypical army dad. All roughhousing and avoiding diapers and throwing a football around. But he was… he was so careful with them. Always gentle, always patient. Hardly ever threw them around. As a toddler, Lisa loved being hung upside down by her ankles, but he could never do it. Even when I did it, he would be all nervous. Kept his arms out and ready to catch her, just in case.”
Karen doesn’t say anything. Maria can’t make herself look up at her.
“His-- his favorite thing, and he would never have admitted this, but his favorite thing about them was how much they were like him. He wasn’t around a whole lot but they were so much like him--”
Her throat closes up and she can’t say any more. Karen understands, she knows she does because she reaches out and puts a hand on her knee. She looks up and almost expects to find pity in her face but she just finds empathy. Grief. Her own grief, reflected back at her.
“Thank you for telling me,” Karen says, so genuine and real. Her heart does something dangerous in her throat.
Maria doesn’t tell her that she’s the only one who would listen. She just nods tightly and leans to the side enough so that her cheek is resting on the back of the couch, her eyes fluttering shut just enough to still stay awake.
“You aren’t usually so relaxed,” Karen notices with a smile. “What’s up with that?”
“Probably the blood loss.” Maria tells her before thinking.
“Oh Jesus,” Way to go. Now she just sounds worried again. “Shit. Um-- What do I do for blood loss?”
“Stop worrying so much, Page.” She says. “It’s not too bad. Just need some rest.” Oh, when did her eyes close fully? She hadn’t noticed. Feels really nice, though.
“Okay,” Karen sounds like she trusts her. “Let’s get you into bed.” Wait--
“But--”
“Nope. Come on. It’s bedtime, Castle.”
“I’m fine--”
“You can’t say that when your hair is covered in dried blood. Seriously.”
Maria squints at her as she forces her to stand and leave her coffee on the coffee table. “Karen,”
“Maria,” Karen shoots right back, dragging her towards the hallway. “Let’s go.”
Maria doesn’t have the willpower to resist Karen, so she lets her pull her into her bedroom. It’s dimly lit, there’s only a small lamp in the corner, and the covers are mussed up from when Karen had gotten up this morning.
“Here, let me get a towel. You can take a shower once you’ve gotten some rest.” Karen says as she leaves her sitting on the mattress, still in her coat and vest. She supposes she should take them off. She’s so tired though.
Karen comes back in and lays the towel on one of the pillows. “Come on, clothes off.” Maria complies easily, pulling off the leather trenchcoat and pulling her signature vest over her head. Her boots don’t come off so easy, she’s bent over for five minutes trying to get them off in her exhausted state.
Once everything is off, she gently lays her head on the pillow, and sinks into the bed. She doesn’t fall asleep, not immediately, and manages to find Karen crawling into bed too.
“Hey,” She smiles at her, the both of them facing each other as they lay down.
“Hey,” Maria murmurs sleepily. “You come here often?” Karen laughs at her dumb joke, which makes her huff out a laugh.
“Blood loss changes a woman, huh?” Karen teases. “You’re usually rougher around the edges than this. More of a hardass.”
“Mm-mmm.” Maria hums. “It’s-- that’s not me. Not really. I just. I copy him.”
“Copy who?”
“Frank.” She says, quietly. “He was the ‘hardass’. Serious. Stoic. Only ever saw him cry three times, the entire time we were together.”
“Oh,” Karen whispers. “So… so you copy him? Why?”
“At- In the beginning, I’d ask myself what he would do. How he would act. I think that he-- he would’ve gone after them, too. The gangs. Billy. At least, I hope so.”
She looks away. “Otherwise I wouldn’t even know who I am. Because I’m… I’m not really Maria. Not anymore. But like this, at least I can cling to who I used to be. Who I loved.”
She looks up again and Karen is silently crying. Crying for a family that wasn’t hers and a woman she should scorn instead of letting into her home and her bed. Maria doesn’t realize she’s moving until her hand is brushing Karen’s cheek and wiping away the tears. Karen doesn’t say anything, just presses a hand to the one on her cheek.
“Hey,” She says, softly. “Don’t cry. Not for me.”
“I’m not the only one crying.” She points out and Maria realizes that her own cheeks are wet, her vision blurred, and her breathing stuttered.
“I guess not,” Maria chokes out.
And then they’re just laying there, faces so close, something tugging deep in Maria’s gut that makes her want to bury her face in Karen’s shoulder and wrap her arms around her and never let go. She moves her hand up into her hair and runs her fingers through it. “Karen…”
“Shh,” Karen hushes her. “Go to sleep, Maria.”
Maria takes a deep breath and then another. “Okay,” She says.
And she does, lest she says something that might make Karen regret letting her inside. Or letting her in her life, at all.
--
When Maria wakes up in the middle of the night-- gasping for air with a scream caught in her throat and an echo of gunfire and carousel music in her ears-- she finds Karen has wrapped herself around her. Her cheek is pressed to her chest and a leg slung over her hips.
She debates with herself internally whether to gently slink out of bed and take off or to stay and fall back asleep for about ten minutes before Karen grumbles out, "If you leave right now I will kick your ass, Castle." and tightens her hold on her.
Maria sighs a little and lets herself relax in Karen's arms. She'll deal with the consequences later.