never saw what was coming.

It wasn't very often that David Lieberman came across something that made his blood run cold, made the hair on the back of his neck raise. He had known things that he shouldn't have for a long enough time, he had lived under the radar for so damn long that he didn't bat an eye when he came across a less than legal operation that would only tighten the pit in his stomach. That would invigorate him all over again in the fight he was part of.

David had been bored with Frank out on a job, one that he needed no help in. So he'd been scanning various things across his platforms, not thinking too much about the last name that he had just put in.

Not until it brought up an intriguing result.

Arya Castiglione..
Social Insurance Number: 186-43-7138.
Birth date: February 27.
Mother: Phoebe Oliver.
Father: Unknown.

David wouldn't have thought much about it if it wasn't for the last name, it was Italian and they were in New York City after all. But something was off and so he kept digging. And digging until a chill had ran down his spine and he sat, waiting anxiously for Frank to return. He was used to being a bit anxious until Frank got home because he just wanted to know the bastard was alive.

Frank walked through the door, stiff and an arm wrapped around his torso. He turned toward the bathroom, fully intent on heading inside to clean himself up.

"Frank, uh, we gotta, uh... we gotta talk, Frank."

Frank stilled, his brows pulling together just slightly as he glanced toward David who looked more concerned than he could ever remember seeing.

"Lemme clean up," Frank muttered, waving David off as he stalked into the bathroom. He reemerged nearly half an hour later, his attention turning toward David who looked just as nervous as he had before, if not more.

"Tha fuck ya need?"

"Frank, I, uh.." David paused to clear his throat. "I was bored and I was running random shit in my systems. A-And it.. it pulled up a social security number."

Frank groaned as he rolled his eyes. "Holy shit, a ssn. Fuckin' wow, never heard of that shit before!" Frank exclaimed.

"Frank." David was a bit more firm this time, peaking Frank's interest. "She's right about ten years old and she's... she's got your last name." David turned to his computer, pulling up the profile. "Mother's name is Phoebe Oliver. Does that ring any bells?"

Frank hadn't been afraid in so long that he very nearly forgot what it felt like but when David uttered that name, he was truly afraid. He gulped, exhaling slowly as he ran hsi hands over his pants to dry the sudden sweat that had appeared.

"..Frank?"

Frank said nothing, instead leaning forward to scan the address that had appeared on the computer screen before he stood and headed right back out. It was late, he wouldn't approach the home but he needed to see... He needed to confirm what David had been hinting at.

Over the course of the past ten years, Phoebe Oliver had been through the ringer. During her senior year of high school, she had fallen head over heels for an unruly boy named Frank Castle. She would follow the teenage boy around like a lost puppy yearning for affection. Phoebe had tried with all her might to reel him in, but it wasn’t until the last two months of the school year did they briefly date—it was cut short because of Frank’s decision to enlist in the USMC. At one of the several graduation parties that were happening, Frank and Phoebe had a little too much to drink, and six weeks later with Frank already gone to boot camp, Phoebe found out she was pregnant. She had never gotten any of the contact information from Frank where to write him because they ended things on a sour note. Phoebe wanted to continue the relationship, where as Frank didn’t see it going anywhere. So, it didn’t.

Phoebe had put off college in favor of finding a full-time job to support and save up for the little girl she was growing. When little Arya turned three, Phoebe had landed an executive assistant position with an upscale law firm in the heart of Brooklyn. With the new position, she was able to afford daycare, a quaint house in a nice subdivision, and she even was able to afford to start seeking her degree in Law. There were plenty of times that Phoebe wanted to reach out to Frank, let him know they had a daughter together. But when she heard through the grapevine that the once unruly boy had grown into quite the decorated Marine, married a beautiful girl, and started a family of his own—she thought better of it. And then—well, then came the time in which Frank Castle’s family was slain in the park and all of the Punisher shit… Phoebe pushed Frank to the very depths of her mind, always avoiding telling her daughter who her father really was. The ten-year-old just knew that her mommy and daddy didn’t get along.

Arya was the spitting image of her father, except her eyes were the bright green of her mothers. She had an attitude, loved to fuss and fight, and was smarter than hell. And Phoebe loved that girl to pieces. There was nothing greater to her than being Arya’s mother.

---

It was 7pm on a Wednesday night as Phoebe and Arya sat at the kitchen table. The blinds to the window were drawn up, letting the dusk light in. Phoebe was helping Arya with her math homework, a task that the both of them hated. Phoebe could barely keep up with the way they were changing math for these kids, and often times, Arya did it herself. But they were now practicing doing speed tests on their times-tables, where was something she could help the girl with.

“Just remember, if you don’t know the answer off the top of your head, move onto the next one and then come back to it once you’ve finished the rest. It’s easier to go back and do one problem, rather than wasting all your time on one. They’re timed, honey.” Phoebe reminded the ten-year-old.

“I know, mom. I’m trying.” Arya sat down her pencil and looked out the window. She noticed a man lingering by a car across the street. With furrowed brows she turned to her mother. “Mom, I think that man is looking in here.”

Phoebe paid no mind to it, shaking her head at her daughter. “It’s probably just a visitor for the neighbors, Arya. Keep working.”

Frank's ribs had stopped aching as bad, they were a dull ache enough that he could begin to ignore the pain. His life was basically a perpetual pain in one part of his body or another. He'd been punched a fair few times in them and he'd been stabbed by a knife at some point during his job. It had been a quick few stitches to his upper arm. They were lopsided and ugly and would leave a nasty scar but Frank had long since stopped caring about his appearance. The only purpose that Frank Castle held in his life was the vigilante justice that he was so keen on.

Leaving the bunker, Frank was utterly terrified of what he was about to find out. It would be amazing to learn he had a daughter but... but he couldn't be in the little girl's life if what he thought was true. And even if he could have been, Frank hadn't been in her life for the first ten years of her life so was it even fair to Arya to suggest such a thing?

Driving to the address, Frank couldn't help but be happy at least a bit. If Arya was truly his daughter, it seemed that she lived somewhere nice and that must have meant she was well taken care of, at the very least. Someone had taken care of her while Frank had been unaware of her existence, while he had been unable to care for her.

Frank's chest burned as he pulled up to the house, parking on the opposite side of the street and watching Phoebe and who he assumed was Arya sitting at the kitchen table. He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat, emotions washing over him that he had never been prepared for. Grinding his teeth together, Frank fought with himself. He battled whether he should go up to that door and knock and open a whole can of worms that was probably better left alone... or if he should tug his hood over his head and grow a set of balls to knock on the front door.

Arya looked up from whatever she had been working on and Frank's head ducked as he fought the urge. God, he wasn't close enough to get a good look at her but he'd racked his brain and she seemed to be about the age she would have been if he had gotten Phoebe pregnant...

Before Frank could continue thinking too much about it, Frank found himself standing in front of the door, staring down at his feet. Every fibre of his being was telling him to tuck tail and run but he couldn't make himself do it. He couldn't because with the off chance that the little girl inside was his, then he needed to step up. He needed to be the father that Arya deserved. Hell, Frank wasn't sure he even knew what that really meant any more but he would damn sure try.

Frank took a deep breathe before raising his hand and knocking firmly before he stepped back, holding his hands behind his back as he squared his shoulders. His feet shoulder width apart, the stance that Frank knew so well. Would Phoebe recognize him? Would Phoebe care to speak to him? THe last time they'd spoken, things hadn't gone so well.

Phoebe watched Arya as she did the times-tables, only having to skip two problems to go back to. She smiled and reached over to run a hand through the little girl’s hair. Phoebe loved Arya with every fiber of her being, her heart and soul laid in the girl’s hands. Everything that Phoebe did, she did it to better the life of her daughter. Every day, Phoebe was more and more in awe of the young lady that Arya was becoming. She was respectful and smart and quick-witted. She had manners and was seeming to get a pretty good jest of right from wrong. How did Phoebe get so lucky?

It wasn’t easy. The first five years of Arya’s life, Phoebe fought tooth and nail the urge to go to the Castiglione’s residence and tell them that their son was a father. There was only one person who knew that Frank Castle was Arya’s father. And that was Phoebe’s older sister who was six-feet-under now. Neither one of her brothers knew, and her parents had no fucking clue. They were already ashamed of Phoebe when she got pregnant at seventeen, and if they knew Frank Castle was the father? Fuck, Phoebe was likely to be disowned.

After the nation saw the trials of Frank Castle broadcasted on every news station, Phoebe almost wrote Karen Page to tell her to tell her client that she had some news for him. But something stopped her, urged her not to write that letter. So, she didn’t. And a week later—Frank Castle was dead.

A knock at the door rattled Phoebe from her thoughts, and she got up, commenting to Arya to pull her English homework out next. Phoebe smoothed her sundress and wondered who could be showing up at the door at nearly eight at night. Phoebe pulled open the door, her brows pulled together.

“Can I help you?” She asked the man in the baseball cap. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, but soon enough there was fear in his eyes. Phoebe looked the man over and over and over—and it hit her like a freight train. Beneath the bruises and the scars was Frank Castle. Phoebe’s eyes went wide, and her daughter was yelling from the kitchen table asking who was at the door. “Arya, just stay there and do your homework.” Phoebe called back, hoping that her daughter didn’t pick up on her fear. Phoebe stepped onto her porch, pulling the door shut behind her. She looked at the man in front of her, not knowing what to say. “Frank?” She asked tentatively. “Frank, you’re supposed to be dead. What the hell are you doing here? How did you know where I live?!”

The door opened halfway from behind Phoebe, Arya’s smiling face poking out from it. “Mom, what are you doing?”

Phoebe turned around quickly and stepped in front of Arya, “I told you to get to your English homework, Arya. Go inside. Now.”

Frank had been listening so intently that when he heard Phoebe's footsteps approaching the front door, he heavily considered turning and running for his car. Maybe it would be better... smarter to leave her alone. Leave Arya alone because even just this one visit was risky when it came to life that was Frank Castle. To the danger that followed him around, day in and out. But before he could make a decision on whether he should turn and run, the door was being pulled open and he was left standing in front of Phoebe. His stomach churned as his gaze met hers and she seemed confused by his presence and for a moment, Frank wondered if Phoebe would recognize him. Maybe he still had the chance to run...

But then the realization dawned on Phoebe's face and she stepped out of the house. Frank swallowed around the lump in his throat, shrugging his shoulders. "But I ain't," Frank finally muttered, glancing down to feet for a moment. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Frank toed at the ground beneath his feet. He was feeling a whole lot more nervous than he had been in a long damn time.

"I.. uh, heard through the grapevine..." Frank trailed off, shrugging his shoulders yet again. What the hell was he supposed to say to Phoebe? Tell her that his friend that was also supposed to be dead had hacked into the social security network and discovered Arya's number? Nah, there was no way in hell that would ever go over well.

Before Frank could finish his sentence, the door was opening behind Phoebe and before he could stop himself, his eyes met Arya's and Frank's walls came crashing down. Every last brick that he had painstackingly added had been knocked down in one fell swoop. Swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat, Frank stood there staring at Arya. Arya's eyes connected with his and fuck, his heart stopped in that moment. There was no mistaking who Arya's father was, she looked like him for Christ's sake. Just like him. Maybe more than even Lisa had...

"Arya," Frank said her name for the first time. His voice was hoarse, more so than normal as he fought the panic rising in his body. "Arya, I-" Frank was trying to rack his brain and come up with something but he had absolutely nothing that he could say. His chest ached as memories flooded his mind, of a life and a family lost. Tears welled in his eyes and before he could even think to say anything else, a tear slid down his cheek. Followed by another and another. Frank's face scrunched slightly as he took a slight step forward. "Phoebe, please..." Frank couldn't deny that Arya was his little girl and his emotions were crumbled entirely as he stood there. As if realizing for the first time that he was still wearing his cap, Frank's hand shot up to rip the baseball cap off of his head. He clutched the cap to his chest as if it was the only thing that was keeping Frank's sanity intact.

Phoebe felt like she was going to be sick as she watched Arya continue to stand there, staring up at the man who she had no idea was her father. Phoebe was frozen with panic as Frank began to say her name with tears welling in his eyes. This wasn’t ever supposed to happen like this, it just wasn’t. Especially not now. Not after everything that had happened with Frank. Phoebe wasn’t even sure if she knew the man that was standing in front of her. When everything was broadcasted, something in Phoebe’s heart told her that there had to be two sides to every story, but, what kind of mother would she be if she let someone as dangerous as Frank Castle around her daughter? But, the Frank she once knew wasn’t dangerous, he couldn’t be….

Right?

“Arya,” Phoebe said, her voice cracking but the demand was prominent behind it. “I said go inside. I’ll be back in in a minute.”

“Mom who—”

“Arya!”

The door finally closed, and Phoebe was now face to face, alone, with Frank once more. She watched as he cried in front of her, looking like a lost child himself. Phoebe stared at him for a long moment, fighting her own emotional battle. Tears began to pool in her own eyes, falling silently as she stared at Frank. She shook her head over and over, words jumbled in her mind as she tried to think of something to tell him—to go away and not come back, come in and meet your daughter, we can’t do this like this… What the hell was she to do?

This was already confusing enough for Phoebe, to see a dead man standing on her porch, but how would she explain, if she were to explain this to her daughter?

And then Frank was pleading with her…

“Please, what, Frank?” Phoebe finally broke her silence, voice wavering with emotions as she still cried. “Please what? What do you want from me? I don’t see how you can just show up out of nowhere, after you’re supposed to have been dead, and—and—”

Phoebe let a sob pass her lips, her hand coming up to her mouth as if to cover it. She collected herself, or at least tried to, before she spoke again. “What do you want, Frank? You think I didn’t—you think I didn’t see all that shit on TV? What am I supposed to do? Walk you in there and say ‘hey, Arya, this is your dad who wanted nothing to do with me ten years ago—oh and by the way he killed a shitload of people after his family was murdered!’” Phoebe shook her head, looking down at her feet, suddenly feeling very small. The severity and reality of the situation hit here. Frank Castle had had everything ripped away from him—his wife, his kids, his life. Arya was all he had left, even though he didn’t know her. How was Phoebe supposed to keep him away from being able to have that?

Phoebe sighed heavily, reaching up to wipe at her face. “I’m sorry, Frank, for everything that you’ve been through. For your family and your wife and everything that Karen Page said was done to you during that trial—I just… I just don’t know what you want from me.”

When Arya stepped back and shut the door, Frank didn't even try to hide the broken sob that he left out. He hung his head, staring at the hat he held in his hands. It wasn't very often that Frank Castle cried, it wasn't very often that he portrayed any emotion other than distaste for the world and anger but at the moment, it felt like the wound that was him losing his family had been ripped wide open and as desperately as he was trying to stop the wound from bleeding, there was nothing he could do about it.

Frank let out a bitter laugh as Phoebe began to rant about all of the news coverage about him. Of course the news never told his side of the story, it was always conveniently left out because it was easier that way. It was easier to follow the narrative than to break the truth because if you broke the truth, a target was painted on your back that no one would try to protect. That was just the way of life that Frank had been unintentionally involved in.

"There's more to in than that, Phoebe," Frank muttered, shaking his head. His jaw clenched as he glared at the bushes in front of Phoebe's home. "But.. but we can't talk about that. Not here... not right now," Frank said, turning his attention back toward Phoebe. "It's not safe. Not out here. I'll.. I'll come back later if that works. When Arya isn't home, if you'd prefer it that way."

"Karen don't even know the half of it," Frank said, his words coming out bitter and frustrated. He wouldn't tell Karen the full truth because she didn't need to know, because it would put her in a compromised position and damn if Karen hadn't already helped him out quite a bit. Frank couldn't put more on her shoulders.

Frank swallowed, his adams apple moving up and down. "I just.. I just want to hold her. Get to know her... be there for her the way I shoulda been from the beginning. If I.. If I had known, I woulda been. Far as she knows, she can know me as Pete Castiglione, I don't care. I just.. she's my little girl, Phoebe. I can't not be there for her," Frank paused, sniffling. "I need her." Because Frank Castle knew damn well that Arya was his only chance at saving what little humanity remained in him.

@ castle.
Phoebe eyed Frank warily as he spoke. She could see that he was telling her the truth, confirming to her that there was more to it. Phoebe chewed on her bottom lip as she listened to him, willing her brain to come up with a solution for this predicament that Frank had put her in. She huffed and ran a hand through her hair.

“If it’s really that bad, Frank, what makes you think that I wanna listen to it? Or know about it? Or fucking have my ten year old daughter around it? You made the decision that day, Frank, when you told me this was over. You made it clear, you wanted no ties to me. How the fuck did you expect me to come to you or your parents and explain that you knocked me up before you dumped me?” Phoebe knew she was being irrational. She knew that she should probably be a little more sensitive to the man that was standing in front of her. But the woman had years of anger and resentment and confusion built up, and here it was just spewing out of her before she could stop it. Phoebe looked down, slightly ashamed at her sudden outburst. “I was gonna tell you, when I heard you were back in town from your first tour. She was only a year and a half old—but you were already married and had a kid of your own on the way. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Phoebe stared at Frank as he explained what he wanted. For some reason, Phoebe’s heart was breaking for him, and all over again, Phoebe wanted nothing more than to give him the world like she did all those years ago. Except this time, the world was Arya. “I’m sorry, Frank… Sorry for yellin’ and bein’ an asshole.” Phoebe shook her head. “I just—” Phoebe choked on another sob, fresh tears pooling in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. “You hurt me, Frank. Bad. And left me with a reminder of you,” she motioned inside of the house. “But that girl is perfect, and she’s smart and funny and a damn asshole like her father.” Phoebe smirked a bit. “I’m willing to let water under the bridge be just that. Just. Don’t you dare hurt her, Frank Castle. Or I will fucking kill you.”

Phoebe reached and grasped at the door handle behind her as she continued to eye Frank. “We’ll figure out a way to tell her about you being her dad. Until then, you’re more than welcome to come inside and meet her.” Phoebe opened the door and motioned with her hand for him to step inside.

Arya looked up from her homework and smiled brightly at her mom, then looked curiously at the man who she invited in. “Hi,” Arya said nervously. “Mom?”

Phoebe shrugged her shoulders and looked at Frank. “Go introduce yourself.”

"You won't be around it. I won't let a fuckin' thing happen to you. Or to that little girl inside. I already lost one, I won't lose another. I'll burn the world to the ground if it means keeping you two safe," Frank promised without even thinking about the words he spoke. If Arya was his daughter, and she was, then he would protect her in any way that he could. And Phoebe, she was the mother of his child and Arya's mom - he could only imagine the pain that Arya would feel if she lost her mother. He'd never allow it.

Frank wrung his hands out, chewing on the inside of his lip as Phoebe began to explain that he had hurt her. He knew damn well that he had but he had thought it was the best option with him enlisting. "I didn't... didn't think it was right. But I was enlisting. It wasn't fair to you, to make you sit and wait around for my next round of orders when the world was your oyster, Phoebe," he said, shaking his head slowly. He chewed on the inside of his lip, Maria's smiling face flashing into mind. "Maria... she wouldn't have been upset. Me either," he said, shrugging as he glanced away. His teeth ground together. "Probably... probably a good thing though," Frank said, his words breaking at the admission. If he had known about Arya, the world would have known and she would have been dead, too.

He held his hands up at the threat, flashing Phoebe a little smirk. "I won't hurt her. I'd kill myself before I did," Frank declared as it was the simplest idea in the world because to him, it was. Arya was his daughter and he only wanted the world for her.

Frank hesitated when Phoebe opened the front door, staring inside of the home as his heart began to race all over again. Was he ready? He didn't think so but then, he didn't think he'd ever really be ready for this. Frank swallowed as he stepped into the home, looking to Arya with wide eyes, trying to soak in the sight.

With Phoebe urging him forward, Frank looked at the woman with a small frown. As if he was questioning her on what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say to her.

Frank stepped forward, moving until he was only a foot or so away from Arya. "Arya, hi," Frank breathed her name, giving her a nervous smile. "I, uh... I'm your dad," Frank spit the word sout, not even thinking about it. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before and i just..." Frank trailed off, wincing. Phoebe said Arya was smart but would she understand the truth? Did she know who the Punisher was? Who Frank Castle was? Frank doubted it and maybe it was better that way. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. If I could have been here, I would have been. I swear to you. And now... Now I'm not going to go anywhere if you don't want me to." Frank finished speaking, his chest heaving with the effort of each breathe he took. And he meant what he said, if Arya said he wanted her somewhere, you could damn sure bet Frank would be there and if she didn't want him somewhere, well, then.

Phoebe blanched as soon as Frank spit out the words to Arya, revealing to the ten-year-old that he was in fact her father. Phoebe wanted to speak with Frank and then speak with Arya before dumping the information on the small girl. It was a hell of a lot of information to receive at ten years old and Phoebe wanted to prep her daughter in the best way possible. But all those feelings went out the window as Arya looked over at her mother, her eyes lighting up like Phoebe had never seen before, an inquisitive smile playing on her lips. Phoebe nodded, signaling to Arya that the words the man spoke were true.

Before Phoebe could say anything, Arya was throwing herself at Frank, wrapping her small arms around his neck. She began to cry, big alligator tears running down her face. “Mom told me that I might not ever meet you, and, and, now I get to and I’ll finally have someone be able to go to the annual Daddy Daughter dance with me this year!”

Phoebe choked out a gasp, tears filling her own eyes. What Arya didn’t understand about her new-found father, was that he wasn’t going to be able to be like other daddies. He wasn’t going to be able to take her out or go to parent teacher conferences or back to school night or any of that because of the whole Punisher thing… Was he? Phoebe had so many thoughts racing through her mind, words she was wanting to say to Frank, but she couldn’t. Not with the look of joy on her daughter’s face and then way her heart was melting as she watched the pair before her. Phoebe wasn’t willing to risk the chance of ripping away the joy Arya was experiencing. She knew that her daughter had had it rough with out her dad being around. There were many different functions that Arya couldn’t attend because she never had a dad to take her… But Phoebe wasn’t so sure that Arya would end up going to any of those things now, anyways.

Phoebe dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, wiping away her tears as she maneuvered through the kitchen. There were so many emotions racing through the woman. Phoebe had never really gotten over Frank, not with the constant reminder of him that came in the form of their daughter. And here he was with their little girl—and her heart was aching all over again. Aching for her own unresolved feelings, aching for the chance that Arya might find out what Frank’s past was, and aching for Frank and his losses. She moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, severely in need of a drink. She poured herself a glass and held the bottle up to Frank, “Want some? I was,” She paused to clear her throat, “I was just about to start making dinner if you’d like to stay.”

There was the smallest bit of hope that Frank held that Arya would respond well. That she would launch herself into his arms and be just as happy as he was to be in front of her but having lived the life that he had lead, Frank had learned to live with disappointment so he'd shoved that hope deep down in his belly. So much so that he'd nearly forgotten it existed, right up until Arya had launched herself at him. He dropped down to his knees, his arms tightening around Arya as he pulled her into his chest. Frank let out a small laugh, burying his face into her hair as he began to rock her back and forth gently.

His tears matched hers, openly sobbing for the first time since that fateful day. Frank hadn't been able to hide his tears that day but the next morning, he had woken with a fire in his belly that still hadn't been kindled years later. Frank gave a tiny nod of his head, pressing a kiss to Arya's forehead as he reached a shaking hand up to wipe away her tears while simultaneously rubbing her back. "Yeah, baby girl. If that's what you want. I'll go with you," Frank breathed, nodding his head. He wasn't going to tell Arya no. After all, he was Frank Castle. If his daughter wanted him to go to the daddy daughter dance at her school, then you could damn sure bet that Frank would be there.

Frank pulled back so that he could actually look at Arya. He sniffled, a small frown on his lips despite how happy he was in the moment. He brushed Arya's hair out of her face, biting down on the inside of his lip. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward to press another kiss to her forehead. Frank's heart ached for a little girl that he would never be able to watch grow; his heart ached for that little girl's brother just the same but he was damn sure not going to waste the opportunity that he had just been given.

Looking up when he heard the fridge open, Frank eyed Phoebe a bit warily as she poured herself a glass of wine. He was almost afraid that Phoebe was going to kick him out and shut the door in his face before he could even realize the reality that he was facing. But then Phoebe was asking him to stay for dinenr and he let out a breathe of relief that he hadn't even realized he was holding until he let it out. "Yeah, yeah. I'll stay," he agreed softly, moving to his feet slowly. He kept an arm draped around Arya's shoulders. Frank was smiling from ear to ear as he looked down at her, barely remembering that Phoebe was in the room. Of course, he knew she was there but God, to be holding his daughter so close had him completely enamored.

"Do you want help?" Frank offered after a moment, looking up to Phoebe finally. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. It had been so long since Frank had been domestic that he wasn't so sure he even knew how but he wasn't going to at least try for Arya's sake. Beside, maybe it would do him some good to pretend that his life was a lot more normal than it actually was.

Arya stared up at her father in wonderment, amazed that the mans he dreamed of meeting was finally here. She stayed tucked into his side; Arya was always too quickly to trust, but Phoebe wasn’t going to correct her in this situation. Arya looked up at her father, eyes burning with a question the ten year old didn’t really understand. “So are you going to stay here now? Mom has the spare room all ready for guests and stuff, but we never have any, so I’m sure you could live in there. Plus, mom never brings anyone over and my friends always stay in my own room. Also, I overheard GiGi telling mom that she needed a man in her life—so it’s pretty much the perfect thing.” Arya looked to her mother for validation. “Right mom?”

Phoebe sucked her lips between her teeth, focused on getting the chicken into the over. Her face was burning with embarrassment from her inquisitive daughter calling her out. “I don’t know if that’s something your dad wants right now, Arya.” Phoebe closed the oven door and set the timer. She made her way back over to the fridge, taken a huge gulp out of her wine glass as she did so. How the hell was she supposed to deal with this situation? Arya always seemed to be a little keener to things than other children her age. But, hell, she was ten years old. Phoebe remembered being the same way at her age. It also didn’t help that Phoebe treated her daughter as an adult, she didn’t baby her. Phoebe didn’t want Arya walking through life being babied and thinking everything came so easily.

Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the severity of the awkwardness that was happening. “Frank, I know you don’t really care for brussels sprouts, you about died when my mom tried to make you eat them, but it’s the only vegetable I have. I can toss a salad together for you instead if you want.” Phoebe turned around and looked at Frank, pleading for him to find the right answer. It would be nice to have him around, another hand to help at the house and with Arya, but she wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. Was she ready? Was Arya truly ready?

Frank damn near choked as the question came tumbling out of Arya's mouth. His eyes widened slightly as his heart skipped a beat. He didn't need to look over at Phoebe to know the woman was probably as white as a ghost at the moment. Sure, eh had come here hoping to either confirm or deny what David had been hinting at back at the bunker but he hadn't expected to actually... he didn't know, meet Arya? It was silly to think about it like that but he truly didn't think that he'd be holding Arya close to him as she asked him to stay in their home. It wasn't an option, as much as it pained Frank to admit. Not until he got everything squared away, at the very least. Not until he knew that his presence here wouldn't put Arya or Phoebe in danger.

He smiled a bit, cupping Arya's cheek as he let out a small sigh. "I don't... I don't think so, baby girl. But I promise I'll stop by as often as I can. We'll get to do tons of fun stuff together, okay? Like going to the movies and maybe we'll go the beach or.." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. "Whatever you want to do, we'll do." It wasn't something that Frank would ever take away from her. Even if Frank had just gotten back ot the bunker and was fully intent on passing the fuck out after a long night out, Frank would be wherever Arya needed or wanted him to be.

Perking up when Phoebe said his name, Frank couldn't even try and hide the way his face scrunched in disgust at the mention of brussel sprouts. He had sworn them off as evil and disgusting when he was a teenager, that was no different now. There wasn't very many things that Frank would refuse to eat, his life had made it so he didn't have the choice to be picky but he'd rather eat his left arm than eat brussel sprouts.

"Yeah. Salad sounds good," Frank answered finally, giving a small nod of his head. He looked down to Arya with a small smile. "Let's do something Saturday, hm? Your mom can come if she wants," he offered the little girl, glancing up toward Phoebe. While he couldn't see her face, he noticed the way she had tensed as he spoke. Phoebe was likely as uncomfortable as he was. If you peeled away the utter bliss Frank felt at holding Arya close, he felt far out of place. Like he didn't belong here. "What do you say, kid?"

Phoebe’s mind was racing with too many different thoughts. She knew about Frank and most of the things that had happened. She didn’t even know if having him around was safe. She was still trying to wrap her mind around him being alive. Now she had to deal with the fact that her child now knows her father. The pure joy on Arya’s face was breaking and mending Phoebe’s heart at the same time. Now that Frank was here, how the hell was she going to have the right to keep her away from him? But then again, she was still struggling with the fact if it was safe to have him around.

Phoebe glanced back at their conversation, her heart clenching when Frank mention that your mom could come if she wanted. Did Frank not want her around? She frowned as she continued to put together the salad for Frank. Phoebe wasn’t sure why that bothered her. They had separate lives now. Frank had moved on, had a wife and kids… Surely he had been long over Phoebe by now. But Phoebe never truly got over Frank. Not really, anyway. Sighing, Phoebe turned around and went to sit at the table. The only thing she was waiting on was the chicken to finish cooking.

She watched as Frank and their daughter interacted, like it wasn’t the first time they had ever met. Phoebe knew that if she let Arya go off with Frank on her own, she would come home safe. At least she hoped. She cleared her throat and looked around nervously. “No, I don’t want to interfere, you should have some time alone with her. At least for a day, I think it would be good.”

There was never really going to be someone out there that didn't wonder about the first person they ever said those fateful words to. About the first person to say the words to them. And Frank was no different. He didn't think there was a place in Frank's world for love anymore but there were fleeting moments where he had wondered how Phoebe was doing. He had never thought that it would come to him hunting her down but then, he had never really anticipated what David uncovered earlier either.

The whole car ride over to Phoebe's, Frank had been nervous and second guessing what he was doing. He had wondered if it was the wrong thing to do and in his mind, it was. It was so, so wrong.. on just about every damn level there was. He was putting Phoebe at risk and he was risking Arya's safety right along with it. It made his heart attack in an horrifyingly familiar way. What would he do if something happened to either of them? Frank was sure he would lose what little bit of sanity he had left. There wasn't a soul on Earth that would be able to save him then.

An arm wrapped around Arya's middle, Frank looked up when Phoebe spoke. He studied her, a bit apprehensive on her response but he decided that it was best not to question her. He gave a small nod, looking back to Arya. Tickling her stomach, Frank loosened his grip on her so she could stand if she so please. "Hear that? You can pick whatever you want to do and we'll do it. Doesn't matter what it is, kiddo," he said, his voice turning slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat, looking away from her. A lump had formed in his throat at his words and he struggled to swallow, ultimately coughing to help clear his throat.