#she needs him

Despite how much you desperately want to know, you want to share that moment with Frank. It was the topic of many conversations between you two. You weren't going to *not* have that moment with your husband. So there sat the folder, on the dinner table. Unopened. Untouched.

And you? You went about your life. Anyone else would be concerned if their husband randomly disappeared for two weeks and counting, but you knew Frank could more than hold his own. You didn't know why he had left, but you knew he was fine at least. Because there was always a fresh bouquet of flowers in the vase on the table. When the old ones started to wilt, new ones would appear by morning.

Currently, the vase on the table was doing fine, only just slightly starting to wilt. You guessed there was about two days left in them before Frank decided they were done and came to change them. You had no idea where he was getting the money for the flowers, considering he left his wallet in the house, but you were grateful for the communication.

***

In his absence, you had taken an interest to reading Frank's books. Flipping through the old, worn pages, you notice how they are dog-eared in random intervals, telling the story of how long Frank's bursts of reading were each time. You wonder how long he's had them, if they were brand new when he got them or already like that. Max let's out a weary sigh in your lap, his head on your stomach. You hold the book with one hand, giving him gentle scritches with the other until you brought it up to turn the page. Peaceful and serene.

The TV drones on in the background, left on the news channel that Frank always watched. It was easy to get lost in this little world, almost like you were just waiting for Frank to get home from work. All was peace and tranquillity. Until you finally tuned back in to the TV.

There was a gala tonight, that you knew. But apparently, there was a shooter there that tried to get Mayor Fisk. Good riddance, if anyone asked you. However, things didn't go as planned. Someone got in the way of the shot. A lawyer. From Hell's Kitchen. Some blind guy named Matthew Murdock.

The name rings a bell, but you can't quite put your finger on it. When it finally does click, that this is Red, you're already calling Kirsten. You had Red's number through Frank, and he gave you Kirsten's number just in case. She picks up on the third ring as you're putting your shoes on, which you can thankfully still do on your own.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Frank's wife?"

"Oh! Of course!"

"Yeah. How is he? Matthew? Is he okay?"

"Besides the obvious, he's fine. He'll recover. He's unconscious still."

"Can he have visitors?"

"I mean, I can't guarantee that he'll be awake when you get here, but go ahead."

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Kirsten."

"No problem"

You stuff your phone into your pocket and make your way to the front door. Max gets excited, thinking that he's going on a late night walk with you.

"Not tonight, buddy. Go lay down."

Max gives you the biggest puppy eyes that almost convince you, but the gravity of the situation doesn't exactly allow that cuteness.

You hurry over the the hospital, making sure Red's alright. It's so strange to see him without the mask, as that's how you usually find him. It wasn't uncommon for him to limp home with Frank when they were working on something in the area, and although there really was no need for you to be up when they would arrive, you'd sleepily make your way to the kitchen anyway, putting some water to boil in the kettle to make them some coffee. And to tell them which towels were okay to use to clean the blood off of themselves. (Frank will never live down the time he used your good towels because he didn't want to wake you).

Suffice to say, you were acquaintanted with Matt. Kind of. Somewhat. Friends enough that you were worried he got shot and are now sitting beside him in the hospital. You had stopped by and picked up some nice chocolate for when he woke up, knowing that flowers weren't really his thing.

The clock ticks by in the otherwise silent hospital room as you think. Worried was an understatement. You knew Frank wouldn't let this slide. Despite how they bicker and fight, Frank cares about Matt. And with what Mayor Fisk has already started doing and even what he is hinting at doing, cops are going to be even worse with how they treat vigilantes.

Not good.

Not good at all.

You stay with Matt and Kirsten for a while, deciding to leave when some "Heather" girl gets there. Thanking Kirsten quickly, you make your way home. You had assumed, naturally, that your night was going to end there. It made sense, right?

Then the lights went out. All of them.

The rush home seems to take both forever and also somehow only a moment. The door almost flies off it's hinges from how quickly you open it, startling Max into a barking fit until he realizes it's you. You knew Frank made sure there was a backup power generator somewhere in the house, but you were distracted by the tank top he was wearing and how juicy his biceps looked in it, so you didn't quite catch where it was.

It wasn't a good idea for you to be going anywhere or doing anything. That much you knew, and we're constantly reminded of with how much you really needed to pee right now. Your bladder wins the argument, but not before you grab the gun Frank kept under the coffee table just in case.

You sit there, peeing in the dark, with Max fiercely guarding you. Your eyes still haven't adjusted to the darkness, so the current smartest thing to do is what Frank would tell youif he were here. Lock yourself and the dog in the bedroom and wait for something to happen, then adjust accordingly. So you do.

***

It feels like an hour has passed, and you've nearly fallen asleep twice. Every sound feels louder, including yours and Max's breathing. Adrenaline keeps you in a buzz, worried about protecting everything your husband holds most dear. Yourself, Max, and the baby.

With how loudly your heartbeat pounds in your ears, you're surprised you hear the front door open at all. Your brain almost doesn't register it if not for Max who started growling. Gripping the handgun tighter, you get up silently and press an ear to the door. Multiple people. Someone's dragging their feet. Or rather, being dragged? Someone has heavy steps.

Heavy steps.

You listen closer, thinking your ears decieve you. But they don't. You'd recognize those heavy steps anywhere.

The doorknob almost doesn't turn from how sweaty your palms got, and you only remember by muscle memory to grab Max by the back of his collar before he ran out to either greet or tear apart whoever just walked in.

It would have been perfect execution. It really was almost there. And then the door hinge creaked. The one you'd asked Frank to fix a month ago. You knew that any cover you had was now blown, so you let Max go. He runs down the hall like a bullet, and you expect to hear gunshots or screaming, but your ears are blessed with something else entirely.

"Ack- down, Max!"

Your stomach practically falls right down through your ass, but you don't let yourself believe it yet. You walk down the hallway, whipping around the corner and aiming straight forward only to see something you didn't expect, but we're very grateful for.

Frank, now clean shaven and with short hair being licked in the face by Max, Matt, who is in full Daredevil costume, and Karen, who is still in front of the open door. They all freeze when they see you, and there's a tense moment of silence.

Max is absolutely over the moon about Frank being home, sniffing all over his pants. Karen looks like she's trying to figure out if you're pregnant or just bloated. Matt looks like he just heard the extra heartbeat but knows that the moment is too tense to say congratulations. And Frank?

Frank looks at you like you've just saved his life. Like he has just written countless plays and sonnets and poems and essays of what he wants to say. His eyebrows pinch up, something you only notice thanks to being already in the dark for so long. Your husband inhales deeply like he's about to say all of it. Like he's about to spend 3 hours apologizing and reminding you how much he loves you. You're pretty sure his eyes are tearing up.

You don't even give him the chance to speak, practically leaping into his arms and feeling his own automatically wrap around you. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you into his chest like you'll disappear if he lets you go.

He pulls back just long enough to angle your face upwards before crashing his lips to yours so desperately that it hurts, but you can't find it in you to complain. It's only after a few more seconds when Karen clears her throat that you separate, but you don't leave his arms.

"What the hell happened?" The question tumbles out of your mouth immediately as you pull away, finally taking in everyone's varying states of well-being.

***

"... Wow." Is all you can manage to say after the three of them explain the events of the night, each now sitting at the dinner table with respective mugs of coffee.

"Yup." Karen nods, taking a sip of her mug.

There's another moment of charged silence, like everyone has something to say but is waiting for someone else to speak first. Thankfully, Matt changes the subject even if for a brief moment.

"I um... I believe congratulations are in order..." He says a bit awkwardly

"Oh, right... Uh... Thanks." You nod, smiling softly as you instinctively bring a hand to rub your stomach softly

The tension dissolves for a bit as you let Karen feel your stomach, and she mentions someone from her hometown who had triplets and looked already to pop by the time she was at 15 weeks too.

15 weeks.

Your eyes travel to the folder on the table, and without saying a word, Frank knows what it is. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you shake your head.

"I... I haven't opened it." You speak softly, like something will shatter if you don't.

Yet another silence falls on the table, and it's clear that Frank is considering opening the folder, but doesn't want to make Matt and Karen uncomfortable.

The topic of conversation returns to them planning whatever the hell their next move is, and they decide that it would be best to clean up and stay here for the night before getting a move on in the morning. Frank and Matt both take showers while you get Karen set in the guest room. Matt takes the living room since the streetlights don't bother him, and Frank retreats to the master bedroom with you.

After getting licked all over by Max, he takes in the room for the first time since he left. His side of everything is just about the same, except the bed. You've been sleeping in the center now, taking advantage of the extra space. And based on the amount of dog hair, you've been letting Max join you. Of course you would. He smiles softly and shakes his head before his gaze drifts to the only other thing on the bed. The folder. Still unopened.

He is broken out of his thoughts when you walk out of the bathroom, having finished brushing your teeth.

"Hey..." You say softly as you walk up to him

"Hey..." He replies as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side and ducking his head to press a kiss to the top of yours.

There's a moment of silence, comfortable this time, as you both stare at the folder in Frank's hand. The only sound in the room is your breathing, along with Max's occasional sighs like he pays any bills.

"Wanna find out what you're fighting so hard to come back home to?" You ask quietly

Frank's breath hitches and he nods, but he's frozen in place with nerves. Despite having done this twice before, he still seems to be quaking in his boots. You do him the favor of taking the folder to snap him out of it, and he watches intently as you start to slowly open it.

You close your eyes like something might jump out at you while you open the folder, eliciting a chuckle from Frank. Once the folder is open, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. There, in a light pink bubbly font, are the words "I'm a girl!" In the corner of an ultrasound picture.

Frank's grip on you tightens a fraction, and your heart feels like it'll burst out of your chest.

"A girl..."

"We're having... A girl..."

You almost feel like you're in shock, like it hasn't set in yet. Between the power going out and Frank coming home and finding out the sex of your baby, you've been feeling a lot of emotions.

"... I gotta be careful, then... Gotta make sure to come back to my girls..." Frank all but whispers, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

"Yeah... You do." You smile softly, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

The both of you crawl under the covers, Max laying at the foot of the bed. Frank spoons you from behind to look at the ultrasounds of your daughter with you, slipping into a calm sleep for the first time since he left the house two weeks ago.

***

The next morning, the four of you wake up early, as Frank said it would be best to get a move on early. You can't help but stare as Frank gets back into his gear, a sleepy smile gracing your features.

"What's so funny, hm?" He asks, his voice still rough with sleep

"Nothing... Just that you cut your hair and shaved... You wanted to make a big dramatic return, huh?"

"I'll grow it out again, don't worry... Just didn't need it gettin' in the way when I'm aimin'..."

"Makes sense..." You nod as he puts on his black combat boots, the ones he seems to wear absolutely everywhere.

"Oh, and Honey?"

"Hm?"

"Give 'em Hell. For all three of us."