Fangirling since the 90s

Pre-blip, the space had housed a small independent architecture firm, so it was already equipped with a reception area and a foyer and a few spacious offices. But it had lapsed into disrepair when the previous occupants had fallen victim to Thanos’ snap, necessitating even more meetings with contractors and decorators to get it up to code and inhabitable. All of which meant that when Matt arrived on the first morning, the smell of fresh paint and new drywall was nearly overwhelming.

But he was used to the acrid fumes by that point. The new year had brought with it a surge in construction, as New York seemed to wake from its five-year-long slumber. Neglected buildings were repaired. Shopkeepers replaced faded signs and yellowed storefront glass. Families moved into newly decorated homes, and even Madison Square Garden got a makeover.

The painful past was being painted over with a slick coat of glossy paint as the city found a new equilibrium.

But the third iteration of Nelson & Murdock wasn’t quite as stable and balanced. Something was missing from their equation, and it didn’t take two law degrees to figure out what it was:

Karen.

Foggy was the first to broach the topic, over a round of beers at Josie’s to celebrate their first week in business. “It’s not the same, is it?”

Matt didn’t need to ask if he meant the firm, or being in Josie’s without her. Because the answer was the same either way. “No. It’s not.”

Her absence was tangible, both in the office and around the rickety table in the back of the dingy bar. She was the last piece of the puzzle. The missing element to the alchemy that had once made them such a great team. A force to be reckoned with, in their little corner of Manhattan.

“But do you think she’d come back?” Foggy asked. “She seems happy out in Brooklyn. And she’s been freelance writing all these years - maybe that’s where her passion lies now.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Matt replied.

———

Karen tried to hide her smile behind her wine glass as Foggy regaled her with another anecdote - this time recounting the tale of their decorator and his very obvious crush on Matt. His face was animated and his hand were gesturing wildly as he spoke, and he was just being so…Foggy.

She’d missed him so much. She’d missed this - the three of them hanging out together, drinking and laughing, and talking nonsense. The setting may have changed - they were at her dining room table now, instead of in a booth at Josie’s - but everything else felt so comforting and familiar, and she was so happy that they’d called and asked to visit.

“Matt was trying to let him down gently, but the guy was not reading the signs!” Foggy said. “He’d taken one look at Matt’s de-hermitified appearance and decided Matt was obviously gay, and obviously into him.”

“Wait, ‘de-hermitified’?” Karen laughed.

“Yeah. You haven’t noticed the haircut and the loss of the Paul Bunyon beard? Not to mention the fact that he’s not moping about in his sweatpants anymore.”

“I noticed,” Karen said, softly, glancing across the table at Matt. “You look good. Better. Switzerland obviously agreed with you.”

“I don’t think it was the alpine scenery that did the trick,” Foggy teased. 

Karen’s smile widened. “I bet. How is Calina?”

Matt gifted her with a smile of his own. “She’s good. She’s doing this intensive therapy program with her doctor and it seems to be working - she’s gaining more and more control over her emotions and has managed to be out in the field a few times with the Widows.”

“That’s really good to hear.”

“I thought you guys were in touch?” Matt asked.

“We text, but it’s hard to find time to talk with our schedules and the time difference.”

Foggy scoffed. “That doesn’t stop her and Matt - they’re constantly on the phone to each other. That’s how Lawrence finally took the hint. Matt’s phone starting blasting out ‘Calina’s calling. Calina’s calling’, so Matt got his dopey Calina-grin, and Lawrence saw it.”

“I do not have a dopey Calina grin.” Matt countered.

“Trust me, buddy, if you could look in a mirror, you’d see it.”

“You must miss her a lot,” Karen said.

“Yeah,” Matt replied, his head down, his thumb rubbing the edge of the table. He was quiet for a moment, as if imagining the last time they were together. Then he shrugged. “But she’s hoping to visit in the next month or so.”

Karen smiled. “We should get dinner together while she’s here.”

Matt looked pained for some reason. “Please don’t suggest a double date.”

Karen laughed. “I’m not sure I could sell Frank on that idea, so I think you’re safe.” She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the thought of the two men trying to enjoy a civilised meal together. She couldn’t picture the night ending in anything but bloody fists and broken noses.

Foggy cleared his throat. “Um, speaking of which, should we be expecting Frank at any point tonight?”

Karen shook her head. “He’s out with an old Army friend. Curtis runs a support group for veterans which Frank attends every week. They usually head out for a few drinks afterwards.”

“He goes to group?” Foggy asked, sounding sceptical. 

“Yes. He’s trying to come to terms with everything he’s been through, and everything he’s done.” Karen eyed her two friends, her brow creasing in suspicion at the reason for their visit. “He’s not the man you guys think he is, so if you came over here to stage some sort of intervention about our relationship—”

“No!” Foggy interjected. “No, it’s nothing like that!”

Karen’s frown remained. “But it is something.”

Foggy glanced at Matt. “You want to do the honours?”

Matt shook his head. “You go ahead.”

Foggy sat up straighter in his seat and smiled. “We want you to come back.”

“Back?”

“To the firm.”

A jolt of longing shot through Karen, similar to the ones that she - and most likely everyone who survived Thanos’ snap - had tried to suppress over the past five years. Those hopeless pangs of yearning for the world to be as it once was…

But now she was being offered a way to actually go back. To regain some of that lost life.

But what exactly was the offer?

“In what capacity?” she asked warily. “Because if you just need someone to hook up your printer again—”

“No!” Foggy interrupted again, leaning over to rest his hand on the back of hers. “You know we value you for more than just your tech skills. You can come back in whatever role you want - office manager, investigator…”

“Or more,” Matt chimed in. “We’d support you if you wanted to train as a paralegal, or even go to law school.”

Karen felt another pang of longing - this one a lot older. It belonged to her teenage self, the damaged and grieving girl who’d given up on college twice - once to help her family, and once to punish herself for destroying that family.

She’d started the process of forgiving herself over these past few years - Frank had helped a lot with that - but she still didn’t know if she was ready to dream such a big dream again.

But she could go back to work. In fact, she wanted to go back to work. She wanted to make a difference again, through more than just writing the odd opinion piece on vigilante justice - the niche topic she’d become known for in journalism circles.

She wanted to be back in the thick of things, actually helping people and trying to right as many wrongs as she could - because there was still a part of her that felt the need to atone for her past sins. No matter how much forgiveness she offered herself, she still felt that urge - that drive - to balance the scales of her crimes against something good.

And besides…she missed Hell’s Kitchen. She missed working with Matt and Foggy. She missed the Karen that she used to be.

She loved Izzy with all her heart…but she was ready to be more than just her mom. She wanted to join this new reality - the one that was slowly being forged, piece by piece, as humanity woke back up. The world was throwing off the shroud of grief and despair and was open to possibilities again.

She wanted to share in some of that optimism and hope. She wanted to dream again.

Even if she started out small.

“Yes,” she said, her smile breaking free. 

“Yes?” Foggy asked. “Yes, as in—”

“As in, yes, I’ll come back.”

“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed, raising his glass in a toast. “To new beginnings.”

Matt raised his own glass. “To new beginnings, with old friends.”

Karen clinked her glass against theirs. “To old friends.”

And that’s how the third iteration of Nelson & Murdock became the second iteration of Nelson, Murdock & Page.

——-

“So, I have some interesting news…”

Matt smiled, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He didn’t care if he was wearing his ‘dopey Calina grin’ as Foggy called it - he was just happy to hear her voice. And he was especially happy to hear her sound so excited.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, leaning back in his office chair, the pile of documents in front of him forgotten.

“I think I’ve found a solution to my Widows dilemma.”

Matt sat back up straight. “Really?”

Calina’s dilemma was that she wasn’t ready to give up her life as a Widow – but she wanted to give up her life in Geneva and move back to New York. So far those two desires were mutually exclusive, but if she'd managed to find a solution that made her happy, Matt was all for it. “What is it?”

“UN liaison to the Avengers.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Are the Avengers still a thing?”

“Not in the same way they were, not with Stark dead and Natasha gone and Steve Rodgers MIA. But that’s kind of the point. Until the Captain America mantle gets passed along and a new team takes shape, the superheroes that are left Stateside are kind of scattered and mostly flying solo. My job would be to monitor the threats they’re facing and call in the Widows for backup if needed. I’d be a sort of first responder and threat assessor, for when the shit hits the fan.”

“Are you anticipating a lot of shit-hitting?” Matt asked, frowning in concern. The job sounded tailor-made for Calina…but it also sounded pretty dangerous.

“Potentially. We’re starting to see evidence of anti-nationalist factions popping up and causing trouble in Europe. If that movement spreads to America, we want to know about it sooner rather than later.”

Matt’s concerns grew, but he held back from voicing them. This was Calina’s decision to make. She was a Widow. A soldier. She’s been putting herself in harms way since she was a child, and she knew what she could handle, better than he could. He was just…scared. As hypocritical as it was - considering the dangers he faced on a nightly basis - he worried about her safety.

But he wouldn’t burden her with those fears. That wasn’t fair to her. Instead, he’d concentrate on the positives. He’d rejoice in how happy she was, and he’d look forward to the moment this new job brought her back to New York. Brought her back to him. “It sounds perfect for you, Callie.”

“I think so too.”

“Is there a start date in mind?”

“Well, you know how I was planning to visit in a few weeks…”

“Yeah…”

“How would you feel if that was a one-way trip?”

Matt felt the smile stretching his face. “I’d feel pretty great about that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

That would have been the natural point to finish the conversation - Matt had a stack of depositions to get back to, and he could hear exhaustion creeping into Calina’s voice - but the two of them stayed on the line, neither willing to say goodbye just yet. They chatted about his cases, about Nika and the other Widows, and all the plans the two of them had for when they would be living together again...

And when Matt finally disconnected the call almost an hour later, the rest of the world suddenly rushed back into focus. He heard Karen’s murmured voice as she spoke to a client next door. He heard the rumbling swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the street sweeper outside. He felt the bruise on his cheek and the ache in his knee, and smelled the brine from the hotdog stand on the corner.

All of that had disappeared while he'd been talking to Calina. The rest of the world had vanished, leaving only her.  

God, he missed her so much.

He couldn’t wait until she was more than a voice in his ear. Until she was soft skin beneath his fingers, and a fragrance in the air he breathed, and a taste on his lips…

But he had to wait. For at least a few weeks more.

A small price to pay, really. A span of days, compared to the years and decades they would have together.

And he knew how unbelievably fortunate he was that he could have that future. So much could have conspired against them during their five year separation. She could have built a life that didn’t hold room for him, or opened her heart to someone else. She could have chosen to guard that precious, broken heart and turned away from all offers of love - his own included. He could have re-appeared a foot to the left of where he'd vanished, and been hit by a car before even realising that he’d gone and returned. The Avengers could have failed, and Thanos could have prevailed. Calina could have died, in a dozen different ways, in a dozen different countries. Torn apart by a bomb blast in Botswana. Hit by a stray bullet during a gunfight in Kazakstan. Slashed by a machete in Peru, the last drops of her blood soaking into the decaying leaves of a rainforest floor…

But none of that happened.

She stayed alive.

He came back to her.

And she chose to love him again.

For once in his life, the tangled threads of that tapestry of fate knitted together to form a beautiful picture. One that he could finally see, without the need for faith or the promise of pain and suffering.

He could see it. He could see their life together, and how incredible it would be.

And he knew that not everyone was so lucky. Half of his workload at the moment was mediating marriage disputes and bigamy claims and property disputes brought by people whose lives had been ruined by the return. And beyond the emotional fallout, the extent of the legal fallout was huge - for their little firm, and all the way up to the supreme court.

Just yesterday, the men and women in black robes had ruled on the issue of prison terms - the case he’d told Calina about before Christmas. Matt, Foggy and Karen had sat around the conference table, eating Chinese food out of cartons and watching the press coverage on the large TV mounted to the wall. As the majority opinion was read out, Foggy chuckled wryly. “Well, that’s going to make a lot of people very angry.”

“If the person who committed a crime against you magically had five years of their sentence erased, you’d feel pretty angry,” Karen commented.

“Foggy’s not talking about the prison sentences,” Matt said. “This has massive implications beyond that. SCOTUS has now formally and legally recognised those five years.”

“I don’t follow.”

“There are a lot of people who lost a lot of money while they were blipped,” Foggy explained. “Their wealth was all tied up in the stocks market - the market that crashed after Thanos’ snap and never recovered. Billions of dollars worth of assets were wiped out in minutes, meaning a lot of very rich people returned to find themselves essentially bankrupt.”

“They were hoping that the blip wouldn’t be recognised in law,” Matt added. “That way they could argue that their wealth should be reinstated to 2018 levels. As if the last five years never happened.”

“But they did happen. For half the world, they did happen,” Karen said, her voice bristling with anger. “And we had to live through those five years, suffering and grieving day after day…no one should get to erase that, just because they lost some money.” Her clenched fist hit the table as she spat out the last word.

Matt reached over to place his hand over that fist, offering comfort and understanding. “And no one will. SCOTUS has made sure of that.”

“Their argument never stood a chance,” Foggy said, scooping a heap of Chow mein onto his chopsticks. “It was the last ditch effort of rich, entitled men who couldn’t accept that their run of luck had ended.”

“Men like Landon Cross,” Matt said.

Karen’s head came up. “Wow. There’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. He’s really bankrupt?”

Matt huffed out a laugh. “No. Compared to us, he’s still pretty well off. But he lost a lot of his fortune.”

“We’ll need to keep an eye on him,” Karen said, her anger forgotten in the face of a new challenge. “I’ll set up some search alerts and keep my ears open.”

“You think he’ll be a problem again?” Foggy asked.

Karen shrugged. “He spent his whole adult life plotting to get revenge on his family. He was so close to his goal when he disappeared.”

“Now he’s back, his plan is in tatters, and he’s got a fraction of his prior resources,” Matt said. “He’s not the kind of man to take that lightly. His ego won’t let him admit defeat.”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Foggy commented.

It was Matt’s turn to shrug. “I was chasing after him just a few months ago, relatively speaking. I haven’t forgotten what he did to the people of Hell’s Kitchen with his experiments. I haven’t forgotten how dangerous he is. So I’ve been keeping some tabs on him. He’s laying low at the moment, probably licking his wounds. But his anger and resentment will be festering.”

Karen frowned. “Which will make him even more dangerous. Unpredictable.”

A feeling of contentment swelled in Matt, which was strange, given the topic under discussion. But it finally felt as if all the piece of his former life had slotted back into place. He had Calina. He had the law firm. He had Karen and Foggy, and now the three of them were back to working the Landon Cross case.

Almost as if the last five years didn’t happen.

But then the news coverage on the TV switched to a different report, and the changes in the world became evident again.

“The Global Repatriation Council spokesperson had this to say about the newly established refugee community in Tulsa. Ohio,” the news anchor droned. “‘The Global Repatriation Council is here to help people find their way after this immense, global upheaval. We’re helping people back into their homes and their jobs, and helping them navigate the changes to society, laws, and borders. That’s our mission statement: Reset, restore and rebuild.’”

Foggy shook his head. “I remember a time when refugees were vilified. Now our government is working with other countries to help them. It feels like the rules of the world are being re-written.”

“I hope it’s for the better this time,” Karen said.

“Well, it all sounds like it’s for the better.” Foggy added, gesturing to the TV.

Matt remembered Calina’s talk of anti-nationalist movements rising in popularity across western Europe. Of the unrest that was spreading. And he hoped Foggy’s optimism wasn’t misplaced.

But that was the concern of nations, and elected officials. Of the UN, and the Avengers and Black Widows. Matt was happy to just concentrate on his tiny slice of New York.

Especially now that it was finally back to feeling like home. 

-------

Remember Landon Cross?! That's right - the plot has returned!

CHAPTER 27 coming soon...

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes @ricearoni84 @brittbratt4567 @redheadrenaissance

But after hours and hours of waiting, and hours and hours of nothing, he worried his mind was playing tricks on him. So he took a deep breath, sifted out the scent of pine needles and earth and mud…and there it was again.

Calina’s scent, riding the air.

Strawberries and sea salt…and blood.

Matt tensed as he detected the copper notes beneath her sweet fragrance. He jumped out of the chair and leaned against the railing of the balcony, stretching out his other senses to try to find her in the emptiness surrounding the chalet. He heard distant sounds - engines roaring, helicopter blades whirling, voices yelling - but he focused on the source of that scent. And that’s when he heard footsteps, fast and light, getting louder as they rushed through the clearing on the other side of the woods.

He recognised the sound of those footsteps. The weight of them. The cadence of the stride - he’d been running with Calina every day for almost a week, after all. 

Matt gripped the railing and vaulted over it. He landed in a roll on the grass below, the momentum propelling him to his feet. Then he took off, racing towards her. He heard Nika barking as she was left behind in the locked chalet, but Matt couldn’t afford the few minutes it would take to let her out.

He needed to get to Calina now. That scent of blood scared him.

He crashed through the woods, shouting her name. “Calina!”

“Matt?”

Her voice was strong. And judging by the speed and strength of her gait, she couldn’t be too badly injured. But he didn’t let up his own pace, too desperate now to see her and know for sure that she was safe.

“Matt!” Calina called again, her footsteps quickening as she got closer.

Then suddenly, there she was, emerging through a copse of spruce trees. Matt barely had time to slow his steps before she threw herself into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist and her hands clutching the material of his coat. He staggered back a few steps from the force of her embrace, and it only made his concern sky-rocket. “Hey,” he said, running his hands over her hair, her sides - everywhere he could reach - in search of injuries. “Are are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“I can smell blood, Callie.”

“It’s nothing. I’m okay,” she repeated.

Then she kissed him. A wild, hard, frantic kiss.

Matt responded with barely a conscious thought. How could he not, when Calina was back, safe, in his arms, and kissing him? When it was everything he’d been praying for for the past 15 hours.

He leaned into the kiss, and clutched her tighter against his chest, feeling her heart pound against the cage housing his own. Both her hands were in his hair now, as she nipped at his lips and sucked his tongue, as her thighs clenched his waist…

But something in the almost frenzied nature of the embrace pulled him back from the hazy edge of desire. He couldn’t detect the scent that warned him of a change in her emotional state, but this didn’t seem like his Callie. He tore his lips from hers. “Hey—”

She used her grip on his hair to tilt his head to the side, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

“Wait,” he gritted out, even as the tug on his hair and the feel of her lips on his skin threatened to short-circuit his brain. “Wait. Callie, talk to me.”

She leaned back with a huff of frustration. “Why?”

“I need to know you’re really okay.”

She relaxed the grip of her thighs and slid down his body until she was standing before him. “I’m fine, Matt.”

“What about Inessa?”

“She’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Minor injuries only.”

“Then what was all this?”

She shrugged and turned away, but Matt caught her by the hand. He tugged her back into his arms. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“It just…it started to feel like a dream.”

“What did?”

“This. Us. Being here, together. I was out in the field, back in another battle, fighting again, and it felt so familiar. It felt real. And it made this”— she gestured between them — “feel not real. Like I’d imagined it, somehow, and that you wouldn’t really be here when I got back. And I know that’s crazy, but for almost six years, I wished and I dreamed and I hoped that you’d be here when I returned…but you never were.”

Her voice was so small as she said those last few words, so full of the pain of those unrealised hopes, that it broke Matt’s heart. So he took her face in his hands and he kissed her. If she needed proof that he was real - that this was real - he’d give it to her.

He’d give her anything.

He never wanted her to doubt their relationship again - either the reality of it, or the strength of it, or just how fucking incredible and unique their connection was. He was terrified that when he got on the plane and left her - when he put miles and miles of land and ocean between them - her doubts would start to creep in. And she’d start to wonder if being with him was worth the fear of risking her heart again…

But he could barely think about that now - not when Calina was kissing him back. Not when she’d pushed him against the trunk of the large tree behind him, and was running her hands beneath his t-shirt, trailing licks of warmth over his chest and back, dipping under his sweats and yanking the material down—

He caught her arms and stilled the frenzied movements. “You wanna take this indoors, sweetheart?”

“No,” she replied, her voice so low and filled with desire that it rubbed against his senses like velvet. “I want you here. Now.”

She grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him again. She kicked at one of his feet, widening his stance so she could step closer and press her body against his. His hands skimmed down the skin-tight fabric of her suit, until they reached the curve of her ass. He palmed the tight mound and squeezed, then he used his hold to bend her backwards, taking control of the kiss.   

She grinned against his lips. “Welcome to the party.”

He huffed out a laugh. And that’s when he realised something else about Calina tonight. Her need to connect with him may stem from her fear and insecurity…but her lust was being driven by something else entirely. Something he was intimately familiar with: the rush that came from wading into danger and coming out the other side alive.

He remembered the nights he would return to her like this as Daredevil, riding that high, the cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins racing through his bloodstream. His heart would pound in his chest. His senses would be even more heightened, and the merest taste of her desire would drive him wild. And no matter how gentle he wanted to be, he wouldn’t be able to hold back the hard edge to his kisses, the rough grip of his hands, or the need to drive into her fast and hard.

He could smell that cocktail on her now, and knew she was feeling the same way. She proved it by biting down on the corded muscle in his neck, by digging her nails into his skin, by pulling on his hair as she devoured his mouth…

…and he fucking loved it.

The other morning - while enacting her fantasy - she’d taken charge; she’d kept him at her mercy as she’d teased and tortured him, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy before denying him. It had been a mastery of control. A slow and deliberate build and release of pleasure that had made him see stars.

This was different. This was wild, and messy and rough, and he fucking loved it. Each sharp press of teeth and rake of nails felt like a claim. A stamp of ownership on his body. And he wanted more. He wanted her to use him. Take her pleasure from him, however she wanted.

He would give her anything she wanted.

And if what she wanted was a hard, fast fuck in the middle of the woods, he’d be more than happy to oblige. He found the zipper on her suit and wrenched it down, then slid his hand inside, cupping her breast over her bra and swiping his thumb over the hard peak.   

“Yes,” she groaned. “Harder.”

He obeyed, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She dropped her head back, and he bent to swipe his tongue up her neck. He took her earlobe between his teeth and bit down as his hand travelled down her body to reach her core. It was a tight fit inside her suit, but he managed to reach her clit with the tip of his finger. At the first touch, she bucked against him, then quickly pulled away.

“Enough foreplay,” she panted, pulling on the sleeves of her suit, trying to shrug her arms out of it.

He laughed. “That was the least amount of foreplay ever.”

“Don’t care. Need you inside me.”

The velvet in her voice wrapped around him again, and his cock went from hard to steel-like. He grasped the open edges of her suit and yanked them down, freeing her arms. She sucked in a breath, and he froze as the pain-tinged sound registered.

And that’s when he finally found the source of the blood he’d scented earlier. His hand went to the bandage wrapped around her upper left arm, his fingers skimming gently over the laceration beneath. He could detect the slightly cauterised edges, the skin burnt by the path of a—

“Calina, you were shot!”

“It’s just a graze.” She tried to pull him back into a kiss, but he resisted. He sensed her roll her eyes. “It was a small-calibre bullet, fired from a distance,” she explained. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I can barely feel it.”

“You will when the adrenaline wears off.”

She stamped her foot. “Well, until it does, can you please just fuck me?”

Matt pinched his lips closed to hold in his laughter. The velvet was gone from her voice, and in its place was an exasperated whine. It was such a stark contrast to the Calina of two minutes ago - the demanding, dominating, take-charge Calina - that he found it amusing.

And utterly endearing.

“I can do that,” he said. He clasped her waist and pulled her against him, dipping his head to kiss her.

Who was he to deny her request?

He’d vowed to give her anything she wanted, after all.

———

Calina shrugged out of Matt’s coat - the one he’d draped over her shoulders to keep her warm on the walk back - and dropped to her knees to accept Nika’s welcome. Her dog whined and cried and barked as she bounced around her and swiped her tongue across her cheek.

“Hello, my sweet girl,” Calina crooned, rubbing her ears and ruffling her fur. “Yes, I missed you, too.”

Calina felt Matt’s hand under her arm and she glanced up at him.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her up to her feet. “You can play with Nika later.”

He herded her into the bathroom and lifted her onto the counter next to the sink. It was the exact spot she’d been in the first time they’d made love in this chalet - after she’d shaved off his beard - and she couldn’t resist teasing him. “You ready for round two already? I might need a minute to recover.”

In truth, she would probably need more than a minute. What they’d just done out in the woods had been incredible, but she had a feeling she would be sore for days - in all the right places, and in all the right ways.

Matt didn’t respond to her teasing. He just started unwinding the makeshift bandage Katya had tied around her wound. Then he grabbed a washcloth, ran it under the hot tap, and started cleaning off the blood from her arm. His lips were pressed tightly together and she could see the muscle in his cheek bulging as he clenched his jaw.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked, frowning at him.

“That was stupid, Calina.”

“What, getting shot?”

“No. Having sex in the woods when you have an open wound.”

“It’s not like we were rolling around on the ground.”

No, she’d opted for a much more sensible position. After pushing her suit down to her thighs, Calina had bent at the waist, braced her outstretched hands on the trunk of a tree, and invited Matt to take her from behind.

He hadn’t needed any coaxing. Within seconds she’d felt him at her entrance, slowly pushing into her. Her legs had been pressed together - constricted by her suit - so it had taken him several slow, tortuous attempts to work himself fully inside. But when he finally did…and when he started thrusting in earnest…yeah, it had been incredible.

It wasn’t surprising that her wound had started bleeding again in the midst of such…vigorous activity…but she hadn’t even realised until afterwards. Matt had pulled her upright and held her against his chest as they’d recovered, the two of them panting and trembling from the force of their orgasms. He’d hugged her to him, both strong arms wrapped around her waist…and that’s when he’d clocked the fresh blood trailing down her arm and dripping onto the grass below.

“Dammit, Calina,” he’d hissed. “You’re bleeding.”

“Hmmm?” she’d replied, her head heavy against his shoulder. She’d felt blissed out and boneless, and had been content to stay like that forever - cocooned in his embrace, his cock still inside her, her own sex still pulsing with aftershocks…

But he hadn’t even give her a minute to enjoy it. Instead, he’d yanked up her suit, shoved his coat over her shoulders and marched her back to the chalet.

And now he was angry.

“That’s not the point,” he bit out. “I should have brought you back here as soon as I realised you’d been shot. But I can’t fucking say ‘no’ to you.”

“Well, I’m glad you couldn’t say ‘no’, because I enjoyed the hell out of that,” she replied flippantly. She refused to let him ruin the moment for her - he would just have to cut short this latest trip on the Catholic guilt train. “This was a good day, Matt. We got Inessa back, nobody got hurt—”

“You got shot!”

“Nobody got seriously hurt. I didn’t have a breakdown on the battlefield, or endanger my sisters. I made it back safely, and found you waiting for me. Then we had amazing sex, and now I’m in a warm chalet with you and my dog. Everything’s good, Matt. Right at this moment, for the first time in a long, long time, I’m completely and utterly happy. So be happy with me.”

He sighed and dropped his head. She tilted it back up with a finger beneath his chin, then pressed a soft kiss to his lips. And another to the tip of his nose. One to the angle of his jaw. “Can you do that, Matt?” she whispered, her lips brushing his cheek. “Can you just be happy with me?”

He leaned into her gentle caresses, closing his eyes on another sigh - this one more contented than frustrated. “I am happy, sweetheart.”

She snorted. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I just hate the idea of you being hurt.”

“I know. But I really am okay. I’ve had a hell of a lot worse.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“Says the man who’s been shot by arrows and buried under a building.”

“It’s not a competition, Calina.”

“Not a close one, anyway,” she grinned. “I definitely have you beat with ‘legs crushed by a hammer-wielding alien’.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll give you that.”

“So, a little bullet graze is nothing. I just need you to give me a couple of stitches, and I’ll be good to go.”

Matt frowned at her. “You want me to stitch you up?”

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like walking all the way back to the medical ward. And I know you can handle it.”

Matt reluctantly agreed, so she told him where to locate the well-stocked first aid kit. He returned with it moments later, and rummaged through the case to find the suture pack and dressings. He laid out the gear on the counter next to her, then finished cleaning the wound. He brushed his thumb around the edges of the damaged skin. “You sure about this? It’ll probably scar if I do it.”

“Good.”

He frowned. “What?”

“The treatment for my legs took all my scars. I want some back.”

Matt ran the back of his finger down her arm. “I did wonder about that. I noticed the one on your shoulder was missing.”

“The one Katya gave me in Seoul?”

“Yeah.”

Calina laughed. “That was the least of them. You’d have barely recognised me a few months ago. I had slash wounds and bullet holes, and my lower back was an absolute mess from a bomb blast.”

Matt winced.

“Yeah. It wasn’t a pretty picture.” Calina continued. “A couple of them I was less proud of - they came from me screwing up or doing something stupid. But most of them…most of them I was proud of. I earned them.”

“Tell me about one you were proud of.”

“You sure you want to hear all the gory details?” she asked. “You just said you hate the thought of me being hurt. And you know what they say: ’ If you ’ re scared of wolves, don ’ t go in the woods’.”

Matt paused, one hand half inside a surgical glove. Then he smiled, wide and bright, showing off his dimples.

“What?” Calina asked, frowning in confusion at the sudden shift in his mood.

“I just haven’t heard you drop a weird Russian proverb in a while. It’s nice to see a glimpse of the old Calina.”

Her frown deepened. “Am I really that different? I mean, apart from the screwed-up emotions thing?”

He finished putting on the gloves as he thought about. “In some ways.”

“Really?”

“It’s not a bad different. Despite the ‘screwed-up emotions thing’, as you call it, you seem more…I don’t know, comfortable in your skin. More confident. Like you know who you are now.”

“That’s strange, because I feel the opposite. I feel like the last few years - being on the serum - it caused a kind of arrested development.”

“I think your experiences still shaped you, even if you didn’t have the emotional context for them at the time.”

“I guess.”

“Speaking of experiences, you were going to tell me a story.” Matt picked up the needle and held it in front of her. “I think I’m going to need one, to help me get through this.”

“It’s just a couple of stitches, Matt.”

“I’m going to be shoving a needle through your skin with no local anaesthetic, Calina.”

“Well if you find that distressing, you’re really not going to like my stories.”

“I don’t care. I want to know everything. The gory details. The stupid moments. Every missing scar and every wound and battle. I hate that there’s this entire chapter of your life that I know nothing about.”

“There’s still a lot about your life that I know nothing about.”

“So ask me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Are we trading questions again?” she asked, referencing one of their very first conversations - one which took place on a sweltering hot Hell’s Kitchen rooftop, on a night neither of them could find rest. One in which he told her how he was blinded, and she shared the stars with him.

“You remember that?” Matt asked, something soft and almost vulnerable in his voice.

She placed her on his chest, her fingers spread out over his heart. “I remember everything about us. I may have tried to warp it in my mind to help me cope with losing you, but I still remember everything.”

“I’m glad.” He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Now ask your first question, so I can get this over with.”

He placed the tip of the needle against the ragged edge of her wound and gently pierced the skin. Calina used every ounce of her Red Room training to stay still and silent during the brief moment of pain, not wanting to make this any harder for him. 

“Who taught you how to do this?” she asked, finally choosing her question. “Or did you just practice on yourself until you got the hang of it?”

Matt laughed softly, pulling the suture thread tight to knit the laceration closed. “My dad taught me, actually. It was my job to patch him up after his boxing matches.”

“That’s a lot to put on a little kid.”

“No, it was good, actually. Some of my best memories are at that kitchen table, me with a needle in my hand, my Dad talking through the fight. It felt like the two of us against the world, just me and him.”

His head was bent close to her arm, concentrating on the next stitch, hiding his face from hers. But even without seeing his expression, she could hear the wistfulness in his tone. The decades-long ache in his words. She ran her fingers through his hair. “You must miss him a lot,” she said softly.

“Yeah. He was a flawed man…but he was a really good dad.”

You’d be a really good dad, too.

The thought came unbidden but fully formed at the front of Calina’s mind, the words almost tumbling from her lips. It wasn’t something she’d consciously thought about before - in fact, she’d done the opposite. It was too painful to contemplate the life that would never be, so she’d always steered her mind away from such things.

But now the idea took root, and she saw the truth in it.

Matt would be a good dad.

He’d be stern but fair. He’d instil in his child the importance of respect, morality, justice…

But he’d also be fun. He’d take joy in his child’s life. He’d wrestle with them on the floor, and carry them around on his shoulders.

He’d be protective, but he’d also teach them how to protect themselves. He’d support them if they failed, help them when they reached out for it, and accept them for whoever they turned out to be.

And he’d be so loving. So affectionate. He’d never let his child doubt their place in his heart. Growing up as an orphan, Matt would know how important that sense of belonging, that feeling of safety and security, would be to a child.

Calina forced back her tears as she suddenly and vividly imagined it all. Then she swallowed down the pain. Boxed it up and stowed it away. And when her emotions were under control, she smiled at Matt as he started on the next stitch. “You’re lucky you had him, even if it was only for a little while.”

“I know,” Matt nodded. “Do you ever think about tracking down your own parents? Finding out who they were, and what happened to them?”

Calina sighed. “I used to, when I was a little girl. But I was trapped in the Red Room - I had nothing else to cling to, no other source of hope to keep me going. It’s different now. I have my sisters. I have Karen and Izzy. And I have you. You guys are my family. I don’t feel the need to track down some strangers, just because we share some DNA.”

Matt snipped off the end of the suture thread and straightened up. He placed his hand on her cheek and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Well, I’m lucky to have you as my family - even when you renege on your end of a bargain.”

“What?” she laughed.

“You still owe me a story.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Fine. What do you want to hear about? The bullet wound in my thigh? Or the—”

“The bomb blast. Let’s get the worst over with first.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that wasn’t actually the worst.”

Matt grimaced. “Okay. Tell me the worst.”

So Calina did. That night, she told him of the deep slash in her abdomen, and how she’d almost bled out on the rainforest floor in Peru.

And when Gossard granted them an extension on their stay in the chalet - having seen how well Calina was doing - they used the added time to swap more stories. Calina told him of her missions and her wounds. Matt told her of his childhood, and filled in the blanks on his war against the Hand, and Wilson Fisk - battles he’d only previously mentioned to her in passing.

By the end of that week, as 2018 ticked down to 2019, Calina discovered the details of every fight and every moral struggle and every loss and every victory that mattered - the ones that had shaped Matt into the man he was when he met her.

And he discovered the woman she’d become when he’d disappeared. The lives she’d saved. The lives she’d taken, and the life she’d tried to lead without him.

It made the act of parting so much harder - like saying goodbye to the other half of your soul. But they both needed to return to reality. Matt needed to get back to New York and get his new practice with Foggy up and running.

And Calina needed to get back to her sessions with Gossard.

So she could heal.

So she could be ready to be with Matt in New York again.

Forever.

-------

Sorry for all the recent delays, guys - it's looking as if this (every few weeks) is going to be my new posting schedule due to real life busy-ness. But rest assured I will not leave this story unfinished - I have the end all mapped out and ready to write.

CHAPTER 26

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes @ricearoni84 @brittbratt4567 @redheadrenaissance

In fact, that seemed to be the theme of this little vacation. She and Matt were reconnecting physically - a lot, in many different positions, and in several different locations - but they were also taking the time to really talk. About things they probably should have talked about long ago. About things they probably wished they could avoid. And about things she never imagined them ever discussing. 

It was like they were taking this time - time removed from the rest of the world - to solidify their relationship. To really cement their foundations and shore up their walls, so that when the world intruded again they would be ready to withstand any storm or quake. 

Calina was glad of it - even though it was sometimes emotionally exhausting.

And a little physically taxing. 

She tilted her pelvis, trying to ease the slight strain in her left hip. The ‘physical reconnection’ from this morning involved a position she hadn’t found herself in in half a decade, and she was feeling a little stiff as a result. 

Not that she was complaining - it was a small price to pay for the mind-blowing orgasm that had accompanied it. 

As she stirred the sauce, she got lost in the memory of the encounter, remembering the feel of Matt’s weight on her as he’d bent her in two. The things he’d said as he’d moved insider her, so deep…

There’s nothing else in the world right now. 

Just me, inside you.

Just you and me, Callie…

“…Callie?”

“Huh?” Calina startled as fantasy and reality collided. The sauce was popping and bubbling in front of her, so she turned down the heat and gave it another stir.

Matt chuckled. “I asked if you wanted some wine with dinner?”

“Oh, um, yes. Red please.”

Matt grabbed the bottle from the rack and deftly opened it, then left it to breathe on the counter. He slipped behind her and slung his arm around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. “How much longer?”

“Five minutes for the spaghetti, and the sauce is done, I think.” She dipped a teaspoon in the pot and held it up for Matt to try. “What do you think?”

He tasted the mixture. “Pinch more salt.”

Calina added the pinch, trusting his tastebuds. As she stirred it into the sauce, Matt’s hand dropped to the crease of her hip and he dug his fingers in, massaging the stiff joint. 

She laughed. “How could you tell?”  

“I could hear you shifting around. And there’s some slight heat coming off this area.”

She tipped her head back to rest against him, sighing at the relief. “Thank you.”

“I caused it - only right I make it better.”

Despite their earlier discussion about his guilt complex, he didn’t sound too repentant. In fact, judging by the low, sexy tone of his voice, he was also happily reliving the experience. 

“I guess I need to start limbering up more,” Calina joked. “I lost a little flexibility when I gained some muscle.”

Matt’s other hand moved lower, palming the curve of her behind. “I like your new muscles.” 

Calina smirked. That was an understatement - he’d barely been able to keep his hands off her backside since he’d arrived in Geneva.

Who knew Matt Murdock was an ass man?

“I like all your new curves,” he continued, gliding his hand over her hip and up to her waist. He splayed his fingers across her toned stomach. “I like how strong you are.”

“Yeah?” she replied. “Think I can take you now?”

“Think I wanna find out.”

“Hmmm, that sounds fun.”

“We can go to Fogwell’s when we get back to New York. Get back in the ring together.”

Calina tensed up at his words. And given that Matt’s hands were all over her body, he noticed her discomfort straight away. 

“I’m being selfish again, aren’t I?” he sighed. “I'm just assuming you'll give up your life here, and move back to New York—”

“What life?” Calina laughed bitterly. She turned in his arms to face him, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “I don’t have a life here, Matt. I go on missions. Then I come back to my tiny little room, and I train, and I walk my dog, and I wait for the next mission. That’s my life. Or, rather, that was my life. Regardless of whether I stay a Widow or not, my life is in New York, with you.” She smoothed the material of his sweater, feeling the firm corded muscle beneath. “The only thing that’s undecided right now is the when.”

“Ah,” he said. “So I take it I’ll be flying home solo tomorrow.”

It was the topic they’d been avoiding until now. But it seemed it was time for another difficult conversation. “Yes,” she replied. “I’m sorry.” 

She bit her lip as her fingers continued to stroke the soft fabric of his sweater. And she suddenly recognised it as the one she’d gifted him the last Christmas they’d spent together.

Seven months ago for him.

Six years ago for her. 

No matter how many times she reminded herself of that time difference, it still seemed so surreal - and a daunting hurdle to overcome. Which meant that she really did need some time before jumping straight back into her life in New York with him. 

“I think I need to be here a little while longer. I need to keep going with my therapy sessions. To work on my engine some more,” she explained, using the metaphor from earlier. “I also need to make things right with my sisters.”

“What do you mean?”

Calina sighed, turning her attention back to their dinner. She drained the spaghetti as she told him about her fight with Inessa back when the younger Widow first returned. “Although calling it a fight implies there were two sides, when really I just screamed and ranted at her.”

“She has to understand there were mitigating circumstances.”

Calina shrugged, plating up their meal. “Intellectually maybe. But there’s been…distance…between us ever since. With all my sisters, really, and I need to fix that.”

“I get it,” Matt said, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. “I understand why you have to stay. But I’ll miss you like hell.”

Calina kissed him on the temple as she joined him at the island. “I’ll miss you too. But I’ll come visit as often as I can. And we can call each other. We’ll need to figure out a schedule because of the time difference—”

“Wait, does this mean I actually get your phone number this time?” Matt asked, raising his eyebrows. “So we can contact each other like a normal couple?”

Calina rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Well since you managed to track me down and follow me halfway across the world, there doesn’t seem much point continuing with the burner phones and the cloak and dagger stuff.”

As if on cue, her phone chimed, alerting her to an incoming message. Calina glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the device where it sat charging on the mantlepiece of the fire. It was the first time the real world had intruded on their little bubble since they’d holed up in the chalet four days ago, and she was hoping she wouldn't have to deal with reality just yet.

But it chimed again.

And again. 

“Do you need to get that?” Matt asked. 

“I guess,” Calina sighed, rising from her seat. She grabbed the phone and opened up the messages, flicking through the photos that had just been sent through. “Oh,” she laughed. She couldn’t begrudge this intrusion - not when it came in the form of a little blond-haired angel wearing a red velvet dress trimmed in fur, like a tiny little Mrs. Claus.

“Who is it?”

“Karen. I texted her this morning to wish her a Merry Christmas, and she’s just replied with some photos of Izzy opening her presents.” Calina started describing the pictures to Matt as she sat back down at her meal. “There’s one of her on the floor in front of the tree, surrounded by wrapping paper. One of her sitting in a big cardboard box, blowing a kiss to the camera. One of her clutching a new stuffed toy. And, oh, there’s a cute selfie with Karen, both of them smiling.”

“I still can’t believe Karen is a mom,” Matt commented.

“She’s so good at it, though - not that I have much of a frame of reference.”

Matt smiled sadly. “Me neither. But she must be doing something right - Izzy is great.”

“Yeah, she is.” Her phone chimed as a new message came through. “Aw, she’s just sent one of her and Izzy cuddled together on the couch, both of them bent over a book. Frank must have taken this one.”

Matt paused, his wineglass halfway to his lips. “That’s even more unbelievable. The Punisher, playing house.”

She frowned at him. “He’s not The Punisher, he’s Frank. And he’s not playing at anything - he loves Karen and Izzy.” 

Matt scoffed, placing his glass back on the table. “He loves pain and violence and death.”

Her frowned deepened, and she stabbed at her pasta with her fork. “Look, I know what Frank did in the past. I’ve read up on him, and Karen’s told me some stories. Frank’s even filled me in on some of your history, so I can see why you don’t trust that he’s changed. But he has.”

It was Matt’s turn to frown. “What exactly did he tell you?”

“He told me he once shot you in the head. But he did it knowing that your mask would deflect the bullet.”

“Did he tell you that bullet still managed to do some damage? That I lost my hearing because of it? That I spent the night alone in my apartment, huddled on the floor, panicking that I’d be truly blind forever.”

“No,” she said quietly. “He didn’t.”

Calina remembered being with Matt after the explosion that temporarily took away his hearing, and how scared and vulnerable he’d been. She hated the thought that he’d gone through something similar, with no one around to help him. With no one to hold his hand in the darkness.  

“Because he didn’t care to know,” Matt replied, his voice harsh. “He never gave a damn about the consequences of his actions, or how many people he hurt. He brutally murdered dozens and dozens of people, Calina. He mowed them down like they were nothing. Remember that funeral I told you about? The client I couldn’t save? Frank was the one who killed him. Shot him point blank in the chest, right in front of me.”

Calina winced at the imagery. But she still felt compelled to defend the man she considered a friend. “Frank’s also helped people. He once risked his life and his freedom saving Karen from a suicide bomber. Isn’t that worth something?”

Matt laughed, a hollow, humourless sound. “You’re forgetting I was his lawyer. Foggy and I, we made all these arguments in court - that he was a war hero who saved his fellow soldiers, that he was a good man who experienced an unimaginable tragedy, that he couldn’t be held accountable for his actions…but it was just strategy. He deserved to go to jail for what he did.”

Calina raised an eyebrow. “Then don’t I deserve to go to jail?”

The question landed like an anvil between them. Matt flinched, as if he felt the impact. He swivelled on his stool, turning to face her. “No, Calina. No. Of course not. That was different. You were either under mind control, or acting in self defence—”

“Not always. The man from the Red Room - the one I killed when we were first freed - I made the conscious choice to end his life because of what he’d done to us. It was partly for our safety, but it was mostly vengeance. It was a punishment. So how am I any different from Frank?”

Matt rubbed his forehead. “Why are you pushing this? Why does it matter?”

He looked so distressed, trying to twist and bend his black and white morality to fit around her grey, that it made Calina take pity on him. She brushed the back of her fingers over his cheek. “Poor Matt,” she said softly, her voice full of all the love she felt for this complicated, conflicted man. “You keep letting people into your life who mess with your worldview. Me, and my sisters. Jessica Jones. Frank.”

He laughed, the sound warmer now. “I did not let Frank in.”

“I know. But Karen did. He means a lot to her. And if you want to keep her in your life, you’re going to have to accept that Frank is a part of hers.”

“I know, I know,” Matt groaned and hung his head. “Just don’t expect us to go on any double dates anytime soon.” 

Calina laughed. “You never know, you might enjoy yourself. You and Frank have a lot in common.”

Matt lifted his head and gave her a look so incredulous it made her laugh again. “It’s true! You’re two sides of the same coin. Death and chaos on one side; mercy and order on the other. Opposite ideals, but the fundamental core is the same - you both saw injustice and suffering in the world, and decided to do something about it.”

Calina studied Matt’s face as she spoke, reading the slight tightening of his lips, and the clenching of his jaw - subtle expressions that revealed something to her trained eye. “That’s what gets to you, isn’t it?” she said, figuring out the heart of the matter. “That’s what riles you up about Frank. You see the similarities, and you’re worried that coin could flip one day, and you’ll end up on his side of the line.”

Matt shrugged. “He told me once, that I was one bad day away from being him. And I’ve felt the truth of that a few times since.”

“But you’ve never crossed that line. And I don’t believe you ever will.” She leaned over to press a gentle kiss against his temple. “But I want you to know, if you ever did…it wouldn’t change the way I feel about you.”

“It’d change the way I feel about myself.”

“I know. Which is why I’m confident it’ll never happen. Your conviction - your faith - is stronger than any impulse you may have, or any moment of weakness you might find yourself in.” She rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. “You know, you actually owe Frank a lot,” she said lightly, trying to make one more point before they got back to enjoying their dinner. 

Matt frowned at her. “How do you figure that?”

“I don’t think I’d have had the courage to be with you again, without his example. Despite his loss, despite his pain, and despite the fear that it could all happen again…he still chose to be with Karen and Izzy. He chose love. And I figured, if he could do it, I could too.”

Matt tilted his head towards her, his eyebrows coming together as he digested that thought. “Well, when you put it that way…,” he grumbled. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance. But don’t ever tell him I owe our relationship to him. He’d be insufferable.”

Calina laughed. “Deal.” 

“Now finish your Christmas spaghetti before it gets cold.”

She laughed. “Yes, sir.” 

———

The next time the real world intruded, it did so not with the quiet chime of a phone, but with a loud banging on the chalet door. 

Matt came awake with a start as the silence of the cabin was torn apart by the hammering of fist against wood, Nika’s angry barks, and the rustle of sheets as Calina scrambled out of bed. 

“Any idea what’s going on?” Matt asked, slipping on a pair of sweats.

“No. But if this is some kind of training drill or prank, I’m going to kill someone,” Calina muttered. “And if it’s those Thanos cultists again, I’m definitely going to kill someone.”

Matt hid his smile as he followed her into the living room, knowing it was an empty threat - she was just grumpy at being woken up so unexpectedly. He used to love Calina in the mornings and all her mercurial moods. He never knew if she would wake confused and disorientated, or irritable, or playful…

These days she woke quickly - with the alertness of a soldier -  so it was nice to see that hint of the Callie he used to know. Although, the soldier was still evident - Matt sensed her grab her gun from the kitchen counter and flick off the safety as she approached the door. Matt flanked the other side, fists clenched and ready.  

But they both stood down as a familiar voice called out. “Calina, it’s me.”

Calina yanked open the door. “Katya? What the hell is going on?”

“Inessa’s in trouble,” Katya replied, a hint of panic lacing her words. 

“I thought she was just out on a recon mission?”

“She was, but the group she was surveilling split into factions and they started fighting. It’s turned ugly and she’s pinned down in the middle. She needs an extraction and we’re heading out now. I brought your gear if you wanna come.”

“I…” Calina shook her head, backing away from the door.

Matt could sense the conflict brewing inside her. He grabbed the bag from Katya. “Give us a minute,” he said to the Widow, before ushering Calina back to the bedroom. He closed the door behind them. “I know you’re worried about being back in the field,” he started. “But—”

“There’s no ‘but’ Matt. It’s too risky! What if I hurt someone?”

“Katya doesn’t seem worried about that. And I’m not either. You need to start trusting yourself as much as we trust you.”

“Katya’s only here because she knows I’d be angry if I found out they went without telling me.”

“If that was the case, she’d have just sent a text. But she brought your suit, because she wants you on the team. And because she knows what I know.”

“What do you know?”

“That you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Inessa while you sat out the fight.”

He didn’t like the idea of Calina going off to God-knows-where to fight some battle. He hated it in fact. He wished he could keep her with him, safe in their cabin, away from the harsh and volatile world beyond its walls.

But Inessa held a special place in Calina’s heart - she was like a little sister to her. So Matt unzipped the bag and started pulling out the gear inside - because he knew from the moment Katya had said Inessa was in trouble, Calina would join the fight. Even if she didn’t quite believe that herself.

“Matt…” she whispered, sounding so lost and unsure. 

He dropped her suit on the bed, and turned to her. He took her face in his hands. “Hey,” he whispered, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “If you really don’t think you can do this, I’ll let Katya know. It’ll be okay. She’ll understand - they all will. They love you, no matter what. And so do I.”

He kissed her forehead, and rested his lips against her skin as she warred with the fear inside her. And he smiled when she won the battle. She straightened up, swallowed harshly, and shook her head. “No, I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl.”

She gave him a tremulous smile, one he could feel with the hands still cradling her cheeks. Then she stepped back and started getting changed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and followed her movements as she wriggled into her tight suit, zipped it up the front, then jammed her feet in her boots. She grabbed the Widow’s bites and started fitting them on her wrist. Knowing time was of the essence, he helped her along, picking up the holster for her gun and slotting it around her thigh. He clicked the snaps shut and cinched the nylon straps to take up the slack. 

“Tight enough?” he asked, running a finger between the straps and her suit. 

“Yes. Thank you.” She took a moment to rest her hand on his bent head and stroke his hair. 

He spread his hands over the back of her thighs and tugged her closer, resting his head against her stomach. “I love you,” he whispered. “Please be careful.”

“I love you too. And I will,” she replied, just as softly. “I don’t know how long this will take, and I know your flight is tomorrow - well, today, technically - but I—”

“I’ll get a later one,” he said, interrupting her. “And I don’t care if Gossard kicks me off the base, I’ll find a hotel in Geneva. I won’t leave the country without making sure you’re okay. And I won’t leave without saying a proper goodbye.”

He felt her relax in his arms. “Good. Thank you.” She pulled away from him. “I guess I’ll see you later, then.”

He trailed behind her as she hurried back through the cabin to where Katya stood waiting. Nika sat by her feet, as if ready to join the fight as well. Calina crouched down to hug her dog. “You stay here and keep Matt company,” she said, stroking Nika’s ears. Then she stood up, gave Matt a small wave, and slipped out the door.  

Matt let out a breath, and collapsed onto the couch, feeling the adrenaline spike wane - an adrenaline spike brought on by nothing more than a surprise visitor in the middle of the night. Not by a gunshot, or a fist to the face, or a leap across rooftops ten stories high…just a knock on the door. Matt shook his head at the thought - he hadn’t realised quite how much he’d succumbed to the peace and relaxation of this trip until it was ripped away. 

Nika came towards him, her nails clicking softly on the wooden floor. Then she jumped up onto the cushion next to him, let out a sigh and flopped down, resting her head on his thigh. Matt stroked his hand down her back. “Yeah, it’s just you and me for now. But she’ll be back soon.”

Matt tipped his head back to rest on the cushion behind him and closed his eyes. It was still late - or early, depending on your perspective - but he knew he wouldn’t be going back to bed. The cabin already felt different - emptier and colder - without Calina. The bed would feel the same. And he couldn’t sleep, knowing she was out there somewhere, heading into danger. 

So sat there, and petted her dog, and tried to believe his own words.

‘She’ll be back soon.’

———

Time dragged as Matt waited. But eventually night bled into dawn. 

Rays of warm sunlight advanced through the room as the sun arced across the sky. The birds outside commenced their morning chorus, and Nika stirred from her nap. She lifted her head and cocked it from side to side, listening for the sound that was missing. “She’s not back yet,” Matt said, scratching his fingers through the ruff of fur at her neck. 

Nika jumped off the couch and stretched. Then she padded to the front door, waiting expectantly. Matt sighed and lumbered off the couch, stretching out his own kinks and stiff joints as he did so. “Yeah,” he said, in answer to the dog’s silent request to be let out. “A walk would probably do both of us some good.”

He shoved on a coat over his sweats, and slipped his feet into his sneakers, then the two of them headed out into the crisp morning air. Matt found himself talking to Nika as they followed their usual path through the woods, and he was grateful for the companionship - if she wasn’t with him, he probably would have gone crazy, pacing through the chalet, his mind spiralling as he imagined all the ways Calina could be getting hurt right now. 

It felt different, this time, waiting for her. 

Before, when she’d been with the Widows trying to track down and stop Volkov, Matt had never known the specifics of her missions. He’d never known exactly when she was out in the field, or what dangers she was facing at any given time. His worry for her had been a constant - a nagging, ever-present knot in the pit of his stomach - but it was at a low enough level that allowed him to function. He was able to work, and go out on patrol, and laugh with his friends, while he waited for the unknown date when she would return to him.  

But right now, the dial was cranked high, and the worry was an acute, all-encompassing fear. Because he knew - with certainty - that she was in danger right at this moment. And with every minute that ticked by without her return, he found his anxiety ratcheting up, and his need to feel her in his arms - safe and alive - surging. 

But, luckily, having Nika with him helped. She gave him a reason to get off the couch, and get some air. The act of moving, of having to concentrate on his next steps as they trekked through the woods, calmed some of his anxiety, and provided the distraction he sorely need.  

At the crest of the trail, the two of them rested on the bench overlooking the valley. Matt could almost picture the scenery spread out before them - Calina had described it often enough - but to him, it was mostly empty space. There was nothing obstructing the enormous sky to give him a sense of shape and form, and the lake and trees were still, with no breeze to ripple the water or rustle the leaves. 

All that vast, nebulous ‘nothing’ would have been alarming, if not for the sounds of the birds flying overhead, and the gentle panting breaths of the dog beside him. Matt rested his hand on Nika’s back, feeling the heat trapped within her fur and the thrumming beat of her heart, thankful once more for her presence. “Is this what you did for Calina, too?” he asked, referring to the time after the ‘Snap’, when Calina was on her own and struggling. “Did you give her a reason to get out of the apartment? Did you help distract her? Did you give her an excuse to talk when the silence was crushing her?” 

Nika turned her head and licked his cheek, as if answering in the affirmative. Matt let out a soft laugh. “I bet you also gave her a reason to smile on the days when there was nothing else to smile about.”

He hated to think about Calina back then. She’d told him some of what it had been like - and Karen had given him a glimpse into that time as well - but he still could barely wrap his head around it. The effort it must have taken to keep breathing and moving and living when she’d lost so much. When she was in so much pain, and the world felt so hopeless. 

She was the strongest person he knew. 

And he had to keep reminding himself - when his mind wanted to drop down into that spiral of worry and fear - that she was strong in other ways. She was a good fighter. An excellent soldier. She’d kept herself alive in the most dangerous parts of the world for more than five years, and had always made it home safely, one way or another. 

And she would make it home again this time.

He believed that. 

But it didn’t make the wait any easier. 

-------

Just in case anyone needs a reference point for Calina's new muscular form - think Emily Blunt from Edge of Tomorrow (rather than Abby from The Last Of Us part 2 game!)

CHAPTER 25

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