Girl, You Taste Like Sugar

He almost doesn’t see her when he walks into the living room. She’s curled up at the far end of the couch, curled up into a ball so tight that her whole body only takes up one cushion. He can just make out a few wisps of her white blonde hair sticking out from under the old quilt that’d been in the closet; if anyone else had walked in, they probably would have assumed that the quilt was just balled up on the end. Since she’s so covered, he doesn’t have to worry about touching her. Her shoulder feels too thin, too sharp, against his palm as he lightly shakes her.

“’m up,” she mumbles and then wiggles to get him to move his hand. He straightens up and braces his hands against the back of the couch, and he watches as she slowly stretches herself out. Her feet don’t even reach the other end of the couch, and he listens to the way her joints pop as she sighs.

“Go get a shower. I got breakfast.” She rubs her eyes with her fists before opening them, and she smiles when her eyes meet his.

“Eggs and bacon? And coffee? Please tell me there’s coffee.” The quilt slips off her slim frame as she sits up, and she reaches up to ruffle her already wild hair.

“There’s coffee. Shower, now. We’re on a schedule.” She nods at him, two quick jerks of her head, and then untangles her legs. She shuffles, barely even lifting her feet, over to her bags. It looks like she pulls out clothes without ever even opening her eyes, and her feet shuffle against the bare wooden floor. He waits until she’s in the bathroom before moving into the kitchen, and he thinks about their conversation the night before as he starts cooking.

He’s heard about the enhanced, there’s not many people left who haven’t heard about them, but he’s never met one. Never seen what they’re capable of. He doesn’t know how strong she is, how much she can endure, or how much she can heal. That remains to be seen. What he does know is that she wasn’t lying about the emotion thing. Sure, he doubted it at first. Doubted it even though he could hear the pain in her voice. Doubted it until pure happiness filled him up in a way that he thought he’d never feel again. He knows the emotion wasn’t his own. When she pulled it away, he felt cold inside. Because that’s who he is now. All of his warmth is gone, and he hates her a little for making him realize that. He might be able to feel the fire that comes from rage, from anger and hate, but that’s different.

Her offer is…tempting, there’s no point in lying about it. To be able to live without the pain, the grief, the anger…it’s tempting. It’s also all he has now. He’s not going to ask for something fake, for something that belongs to someone else. His emotions are his own. She might be able to feel them, but they’re still his. Could be useful in a fight though. Can she block physical sensations? It’s something that he’ll have to ask her. Even in the midst of her happiness and pain, he’d been able to hear her gratitude. She believes that she owes him, and maybe she does. That’s not his call.

“Someone’s thinking mighty hard for six o’clock in the morning.” He glances over his shoulder, and the first thing he notices is that she’s completely covered up. Tight dark green jeans and a baggy gray sweatshirt with a black skull at its center leaves barely any skin showing. The sweatshirt hangs down past her fingertips, and she’s wearing a pair of bright yellow socks. The only skin he can see is her face, which is mostly covered by her wet hair.

“Just thinking about last night.” She plops into a chair at the kitchen table and rests her chin on her fist.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It went a lot smoother than I imagined though.” He catches a flash of her smile as he turns back around, and he starts dividing the food up between two plates.

“You’ve never told anyone else.” He places the plates on the table and then turns back towards the coffeepot.

“Nope, just you. I never had a reason to tell anyone, before. You might want to bring the sugar over here, I take a lot in my coffee.” He pours them both a travel mug full of coffee and sits hers down next to her plate. Then he brings over the sugar bowl and takes the seat across from her.

“I want to ask a few more questions.” He loses count of how many scoops of sugar go into her cup, but he’s sure that it’s an unhealthy amount. It looks like she only takes a little bit of coffee with her sugar.

“Ask me anything.” She nearly inhales her first few bites of scrambled eggs, so it takes him a moment to remember what his question is. Has she been starving herself? “Starving? No, but I have a pretty high metabolism. Sometimes I forget to eat though.”

“Can you block physical sensations?” He must have asked his last question out loud; he really does need to be more careful around her.

"Like hunger? I don’t think so, but I think I can overload emotional senses enough that it’s not noticeable.”

“What about pain?” She must have caught on, because she sits her fork down and meets his eyes.

“I could probably raise your anger, get your adrenaline pumping more than it should, and then balance it with an overwhelming sense of calm. That way you’d still be able to think clearly. Or, well, there’s another option.” She gulps down her coffee after that, which means that he has to drag the other option out of her.

“What’s this other option?” She taps her fingers against the table and speaks without looking at him.

“I’ve only ever done it accidentally, but I might be able to do it again if I actually focused. A few times, I was able to absorb another person’s emotions. Completely. They could still think and function, but they felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I did instead. I was able to take all of their sensations, emotional and physical.”

“That’s not an option then.” He turns back to his food, but he can feel her eyes on him. Questioning. Curious. “It would hurt you. It wouldn’t stop any pain, just transfer it.”

“I can handle a little pain, and it won’t be permanent. The pain will be all yours as soon as I stop, and you’ll be the one with all the wounds. I’d just be holding the physical pain for a little bit.”

“Not an option.”

“I’ll wait for you to ask then.”

“I won’t ask.” Her smile is quick and sharp, and he watches the way her jaw works as she takes in another forkful of eggs. She’s not going to keep arguing with him, but he can tell that she disagrees. Well, she’s wrong. Taking away his pain is one thing. Completely taking him over and feeling his every sensation? That’s a whole other universe.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Her plate is clean, and he grabs her cup to get them both a refill. He talks with his back to her, but the back of his neck feels tight. Her eyes haven’t left him.

“Following up on a lead.” He hears her hum, a loud noise in the quiet morning air, and then he hears the sound of nails tapping against wood.

“Recon or…” When she trails off, he looks over his shoulder. Her tongue sticks out of the side of her mouth as she tilts her head and drags her index finger across her throat, and he narrows his eyes at her accompanying sound effects.

“Won’t know until we get there. Got a problem with that, princess?” She huffs, loudly and pointedly, as he turns back to his task. He knows the nickname bothers her. He can see it in the way that the skin around her eyes go tight and by the slight twitch in her cheek. He doesn’t know why it bothers her, and he doesn’t care to find out.

“I agreed to rule number three. You do you, and I’ll do me. Wait, that sounded wrong. Hey! Don’t just walk out on me!” He’s still got a few things that he needs to get together before they head out, and he’s not sure if he can stomach watching her ruin another good cup of coffee.

“Gear up! We’re leavin’ in five!” He doesn’t stick around long enough to hear her witty response.


Dani’s always liked riding shotgun; driving takes too much attention, and she likes being able to look at the scenery around her. After being in the city for so long, seeing this many trees is almost like being on an exotic vacation. When she was little, going for car rides seemed magical. After the experiments, being in any kind of container with another human being was just torture. Frank’s proving to be the exception though, which barely even surprises her at this point. It’s why she followed him to start with; it’s why she’s still with him. Frank is, well, he’s calm. She’d say serene, but there’s something bubbling deep under the surface. So, calm. There’s a very good chance that he’s going to take another life today, but there’s no nervous energy or guilt or anything else you’d expect someone to have while premeditating murder. That should probably worry her, but she knew what she was getting into before she ever hid herself in the back floorboard of his truck.

“How’d you get this lead?” He shifts a bit in his seat, but she knows it’s not because her question makes him uncomfortable. Physically, he needs to shift some weight off his right side so that his left side is now leaning against the door. He’s driving with his right hand.

“I know people.” Gruff and simple, that’s the Frank Castle way. It doesn’t help with road trip talk.

“When we get there, do I stay with you or out of sight? Because I can be stealthy.” His eyes cut over at her, and she just beams a smile back at him. What? She can totally be stealthy. She’s small and non-threatening in appearance, so most people barely even give her a second glance.

“Stay out of sight.” It’s not even a question; Frank just gave her a straight-up order. It should bristle or annoy her; she’s always gone on the offensive when being ordered around, but she feels…nothing, really. She’s in his world now, so it makes sense for her to play by his rules.

“Is it gonna be the same for all future business meetings?” When she told him that she wasn’t going to kill anyone, she meant it. She’s done her share of killing, and she never wants to take another life. Since that’s pretty much all Frank wants to do, most of his business meetings are probably going to end bloody.

“Yes.” Maybe Frank’s not a morning person and that’s why she’s only getting short answers.

“What if someone tries to kill you? Do you want me to stay back and watch you die?” His eyes meet hers, and she holds his dark stare. He’s not angry or glaring, just assessing, before turning to look back at the road.

“Yes.” He says it without looking away from the road, and she feels her jaw clench. Outside the window, the trees start to thin as they move back into the city. Soon, too soon for her liking, cement and glass are all she can see. Neither of them has said a word for the past hour; Frank’s just the quiet type, and she’s resisting the urge to yell at him.

When they reach an underground parking lot, Frank parks the truck and turns to face her. She bites the inside of her cheek as he tells her to wait in the truck, and she rolls her eyes as he walks off. The man is only wearing a hat to lightly shadow his face, like that’s going to be enough to hide who he is. He’s clearly delusional, for the hat and for thinking that she’ll just wait for him to come back. She agreed to stay out of sight, that’s all. Once he’s gone and out of her sight, she quietly slips out of the passenger seat and follows after him. She’s so tuned into his emotions that she can still feel him, and she keeps her steps light as she hurries to catch up to him.

By the time she finds him, two levels up, he’s already talking to some guy. A very shady looking guy too. She kneels down behind a gray car to listen, and her knees complain just the smallest amount as skin and bone grind down against the asphalt. They’re too far away for her to hear their exact words, but she can feel them both. Frank feels mostly calm, but there’s an underlying current of something else. Revulsion? Something bitter, that’s for sure. The man standing next to him is feeling a mixture of fear and hate, and the two emotions keep warring for control. She can’t tell if either emotion is for Frank, but she’s willing to bet that they’re both aimed at him.

Just when she’s getting ready to move into a different position, Frank shifts his stance. One moment they’re standing side-by-side, and the man is lying on the ground in the next moment. She saw all of the events leading up to the man lying motionless on the pavement, but her brain is still playing catch-up. Frank slips the gun back into his jacket, hidden and undetected once again, and he walks past her without ever slowing down.

“Told you to wait in the truck.” Huh. Maybe she’s not as stealthy as she thought, or maybe Frank really is just that good. She uses her hands to push herself up, and she scrambles to catch up with his long strides.

“Did you have to kill him?” He doesn’t even look over at her after she catches up; he just keeps walking at a steady pace.

“How am I supposed to answer that?”

“Honestly. I’m trying to learn your moral code.” His laugh is quiet and a little startled, and she wants to smile at the sound. Wants to but doesn’t, because she knows that he’s not feeling anything even close to amusement. Underneath the calm, there’s something dark. It’s not guilt or shame, but it’s something close.

“He told me what I needed, about his old bosses. He’s killed for them, among other things.” So Frank does have a moral code. It’s a little more skewed than most peoples’, but he still has his own code. That’s good.

“Okay.” She’s sure that most people would probably try to talk him out of this, possibly remind him that most people don’t go around shooting other people just because they think they deserve it, but…well, it’s like she said before. She knew what she was getting into, and she hasn’t changed her mind. They’re quiet as they get back to into the truck and drive off, and Dani taps her fingers against her knees as they start moving back out of the city.

“You followed me.” She almost jumps at the rough sound of Frank’s voice, but she manages to hold still.

“Yep.”

“I told you not to.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t do it again.”

“No promises.” This time she does jump when his fist knocks against the steering wheel, and her whole body tenses as she turns to look at him. His other hand is still holding onto the steering wheel with white knuckles, and he’s just as tense as she is.

“This ain’t gonna work if you can’t follow a simple order.” She crosses her arms and raises her chin, in a universally known stubborn pose, and trains her eyes on the side of Frank’s face.

“First, I don’t follow orders. Second, I am an adult and capable of making my own decisions. Third, I’m not going to let you go off and get yourself killed. Not if I can stop it. I’m not going to kill anyone for you, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you get killed. Unless you want to die.” She pauses there and waits, but Frank doesn’t say anything. “Is that it? Do you want to die? Are you doing all of this because it’s the quickest way to get yourself killed? Remember, we promised no lies. Rule number two.”

“I ain’t suicidal.”

“That’s not a real answer.” His eyes flick over at her, and she watches the way that the muscle in his jaw ticks before he answers her.

“I don’t need anyone getting hurt for me.” Wait, so this is some kind of chauvinistic crap?

“A few bullets won’t hurt me,” she says and grins. She can only see one side of his face, but he’s definitely rolling his eyes at her. “You doubtin’ me, Castle?”

“You’re not going to take a bullet for me.” If she was normal, she might be touched by the statement. She’s not normal though, and Frank knows that. At least, she thinks he does. Maybe he doesn’t really understand how the whole thing works. She can try explaining again, but she’s got a feeling that a show-and-tell will work better. It worked with the empath thing anyway.

“We’ll see about that,” she grumbles under her breath and starts rolling the window down. Once it’s completely down, she dives across the seat. Frank locks up as she barrels into his side, and the man honest-to-God growls at her as she starts pawing under his jacket.

“Get the hell offa me!” Aha! She grabs the gun that he’d tucked under his jacket earlier, in a shoulder holster apparently, and slides back to her side of the truck. She uses her legs to push off from the seat and smiles once her upper body is hanging out of the window. There’s no other vehicles around, she checked for that while she was rolling the window down, and the wind feels amazing. “Get back in the truck! What are you doin’?!”

“Makin’ a believer outta you!” she yells back and raises the gun. She lifts the slim end of the silencer and presses it against the side of her head, and she waits for Frank to meet her eyes before winking and pulling the trigger. The pain that shoots through her head is explosive and full of heat, and she just barely hears the squeal of the tires over the sound of her skull and brain tearing apart. Hands grip her knees and then her thighs, and she yelps as she’s yanked back through the window.

“Are you insane?!” Those hands are on her shoulders now and giving her a good shake, and she reaches up to grab Frank’s arms. (In a distant part of her mind, she’s thankful that he’s wearing a jacket so that she’s not touching his skin.) He gives her upper body another shake, and she tightens her hold as she groans. Shaking is not good right now. She’s got the mother of all headaches.

“Possibly, but you’re missing the big picture. I’m alive, after taking a bullet to the brain. Can you do that?” Frank’s eyes are dark and wide as he stares at her, and she realizes just how close they are. She’s sitting sideways on the seat with her back against the door, and her legs are pulled up against her chest. Frank’s torso is pressing against her legs, and he’s still holding onto her shoulders.

“I’ve never shot myself in the head.” It’s her turn to roll her eyes, and Frank chooses that time to pull the gun out of her hand. He stows it back under his jacket and moves back to the driver’s side, but he’s still turned sideways and looking at her.

“I’m in serious need of a hair washing, but I’m perfectly okay. Well, I have a headache, but it’ll be gone in about ten minutes.”

“A headache.” The sound he makes is somewhere between a laugh and a grunt, and she rolls her shoulders as she sits up. What she just did wasn’t the most pleasant thing ever, but she can see the gears turning in Frank’s head now. He listened to her story, probably tried to make sense of it, but he didn’t really know. Well, now he does.

“It’s going to take a lot more than a few bullets to put me down. I won’t help you kill anyone, but I can help keep you alive. Unless you really do have a death wish.” His eyes are dark and still seem to burn as he looks at her, but she doesn’t look away. She can’t show any kind of weakness around him, or he’ll start to doubt her.

“Still don’t like it,” he says after a few beats of silence. She shrugs and feels the way that the tacky pieces of hair cling to her cheek. She can really use another shower.

“Never said you had to.” His lips thin as his jaw clenches, but he dips his chin just the tiniest bit. Looks like they have an understanding after all. Frank turns back around and puts the truck in drive, and Dani is careful not to let the bloody mess of her hair touch the seat. Bloodstains are never easy to clean, and she’s not in the mood to start scrubbing.

Frank doesn’t say anything for several hours, not until the city is far behind them. Trees are once again a blur outside of the window before he lightly clears his throat, and Dani rubs at her eyes before looking over at him. He’s still looking straight ahead, at the barren road, and she can’t get a good read on him. Even people who believe that they’re numb are usually drowning in some kind of emotion, like anger or agony. Frank just feels…like Frank. Empty. His emotions are so far down right now that she’d need a shovel to reach them, and she doesn’t feel like fighting to find out his emotional state. She doesn’t really need to. All she’s doing is sitting beside him, and she can feel her own emotions clearly. Can feel the light burn of anger that comes from someone thinking that she’s not strong enough, not good enough. Can feel the tingle of warmth in her chest at someone not wanting her to be hurt, because it’s been a while since anyone cared about whether or not she’s in pain.

“I don’t want to die.” His words are quiet, but there’s no other sounds in the truck to drown out the rough cadence of his voice. Dani turns to look at him, just a small movement of her neck, but he’s not looking at her. That’s probably for the best, since he’s driving.

“Then what do you want?” Something fills him up then, something dark and angry, and she bites her bottom lip against the spike of emotion. It quickly ebbs away, almost as soon as it spikes, but she already has her answer.

“I want to get rid of them. The cops, Red, the others like him…they’re a temporary solution. My way is more permanent.” He’s not exactly wrong, but that doesn’t make him right either.

“You ever hear that saying about how if one person kills a murderer then the number of killers in the world stays the same?” He doesn’t move. No tensing, no shifting…nothing.

“What if one person kills a lot of murderers? What’s the score then?” Damn. He’s got her there. She crosses her arms and bends forward a little, to keep her blood matted hair away from the seat, and blows a breath out through her nose.

“I guess we’ll find out.”


He can hear the sound of the weak shower going, a static sound in the background, as he lowers himself into the chair in the living room. It doesn’t matter that she showered this morning; she’s gotta take another one because she kept saying that the blood made her itchy. Now there’s an image he can’t seem to shake. Her hair blowing all over the place as half her body hung out the window, the big grin on her face that showed a line of white teeth, and the spray of blood and other things after she pulled the trigger. He knew she was dead as soon as he slammed on the brakes, but she wasn’t. (She isn’t dead.) Her eyes had been a little bloodshot and her face had been a little paler than usual, but she’d been alive. (She’s alive and breathing right now.)

“I’m alive, after taking a bullet to the brain. Can you do that?” They’d been sitting so close that all he’d been able to see was the pale color of her eyes, and he’d watched as the broken blood vessels in her eyes just vanished. The blood remained, but the hole was gone. He’s heard about the enhanced, knows that they can do things above and beyond his imagination, but he never expected to see that.

“You’re thinking too hard, Castle.” She’s wearing the same clothes as earlier. Green jeans and baggy gray sweatshirt. For a moment, in the truck, he’d seen a different gunshot wound. A small broken face. Why couldn’t his little girl heal like the woman standing in front of him?

“Can you die?” The question seems to catch her off guard, because her big eyes widen even further as she slowly raises her arms to wrap them around herself.

“Everyone can die, even me. I’m just not sure what it would take. I only know what won’t kill me. Have you decided that I deserve to die?” She’s too small. Short and thin, small delicate features…she pulled the trigger without hesitation. She admitted to killing people, but she didn’t have a choice. She’s not a killer. Not like he is.

“No. What do you want from me, princess? What’s the point of all this?” She’s gotten what she wants. She’s been around him long enough to be able to feel her own emotions, and that should be good enough for her.

“You’ve given me something that I’ve been missing for a very long time, and I owe you for that. I want to stay by your side, for as long as you’ll let me. I made that clear yesterday. At least, I thought I did.” Her hands are propped on her hips now, and she bends down just the smallest bit to meet his eyes.

“My side is about to get very messy. You sure you’re up for that?” If everything that she’s said is true, and he’s starting to think it is, then she should be running in the opposite direction. She’s already lived through hell, so why follow him into another one?

“I’ll let you know at the end of the week.” Her smile puts some color in her cheeks, but she’s still too pale.

“Make sure your stuff is packed tonight. We’re leaving at first light.” The chair creaks as he stands up, and she has to tip her head back to look up at him.

“Where to, boss?” He raises a brow at the title, but she just grins up at him.

“Florida.” One slim eyebrow rises, and she shrugs when he doesn’t say anything else. Her head bobs a little before she turns on her toes and moves over to where her bag is, and he walks over to the kitchen to make them something simple for dinner. He’ll pack his things afterwards, because they’ve got a long drive ahead of them tomorrow.