#karedevil ff

Matt didn't answer, he simply laughed back. There was nothing more to say. His friend could read right through him, and it was only a matter of time before Karen did as well. Or maybe she had already... He wasn't that good at hiding his feelings for her. He could be this stone cold jerk hellbent on fighting on his own, but for some reason, whenever it had something to do with Karen Page, he turned into a nervous schoolboy.

Foggy left the room and got back to work, wishing his friend would get it together. Once seated on his brand new desk chair, he grabbed his phone and started to dial. There was only person that could help him.

“Hey, Sister, I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

“Foggy Nelson,” Maggie answered at the other end of the line. “Lucky for you, I was getting a break from the Almighty. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It's about Matt. I figured you could help me out with something.”

“Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes, no new cuts or bruises. I'm more worried about his love life, if you see what I mean.”

He heard her scoff. “I do. I take it he's still not dating the pretty blonde?”

“Nope,” Foggy sighed. “He's afraid of messing it all up once more. But I feel like he's got something in mind. He wants to take action but he won't. Not now, at least. I was hoping you could maybe talk to him and get him to hurry the hell up?”

“What's the rush?”

“I just want my friends to be happy. And I can't stand to see them acting like teenagers.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Maggie.”

“It's not me, the orders come from up above.”

Foggy chuckled and hung up. “You have no idea what's coming for you, Matty,” he whispered.

Maggie patiently waited for Matt to come see her. He did so regularly, more and more these days. She was glad to see him so light-hearted, and she felt grateful to have him back into her life. He couldn't call her “mom” yet, but she didn't mind. She knew she didn't deserve this word. His presence was enough to make her happy.

One day, he came to her. It was a warm morning, pale light shrouding Clinton Church. She greeted him with a smile.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

He chuckled softly. “Hi, Maggie.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, and they started walking along the aisle. “It's been a while,” she remarked. “I take it the practice is doing well these days?”

“Yeah,” Matt confirmed in a smile, “we're pretty busy. But it's great.”

She nodded. “How's Foggy doing? And Karen?”

She noticed how his lips twiched upwards when he heard her name. “Good, they're good. Foggy is still Foggy, complaining about the money but taking care of our clients as if they were family, and Karen...” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Karen's being a great investigator.”

Sure. “She still single?” she asked mischieviously.

“I, hum, why this question?” he stammered, uneasy.

Maggie shrugged. “It's just that a pretty girl like this, I'm surprised no one shares her bed.”

He sighed. “Well, she didn't mention anyone.” Luckily for him.

“Really?” she replied. “That's a shame. She did talk about that redhead last week...”

Matt suddenly stopped in this tracks, and placed his hand on a bench. “She came to see you?” he inquired, surprised.

“Oh, we meet every now and then,” Maggie replied. “She's lovely. She comes to have a chat with me and plays with the kids. They love her. I think some of them have a crush on her.”

Cute. But one thing she said before that irked him. “And she mentioned... a man?” he went on.

“Oh, the redhead, right. Yes, from what I gathered he's a journalist, and they had dinner once. She didn't really know whether to take things further or not.”

That was a lie. Karen hadn't met any redhead. But Matt didn't know that, and Maggie was very good at lying. Way too good, for a nun. She had hit a spot, and she held back a smirk.

“Right,” Matt answered, his hand now clenching the hard wood of the bench.

“You know, if you were to step in...” Maggie added, “I'm sure she'd forget all about that fellow.”

He chuckled. “Why would I-”

Maggie shook her head. “I'm not Daredevil, but I know when you lie, Matthew. When are you planning to get her back?”

Matt sighed and resumed walking. “Soon,” he said.

“How?” she inquired. She was not letting this go, even though he certainly wished she would. “Have you thought about it?”

“I...” he began, before laughing at himself. “Nah, this is stupid.”

“Matthew, come on, I've heard my share of silly things, just shoot.”

He took a deep breath and turned around to face her. “She loves flowers,” he stated.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “Shocker,” she scoffed.

Matt tilted his head. “Do you wanna know what I had in mind, or not?”

“Yes. Sorry.” She quietly zipped her lips, aware that he would know.

“I thought I could...” Matt began, his left hand going in and out of his pocket. “I thought I could send her one flower a day, for a week. It would be a different flower every day, with a different meaning.”

Now, that was interesting. Maggie frowned. “Why not just send her one beautiful bouquet?” she asked.

“She's an investigator at heart,” Matt replied with a smile. “She'll look up the meaning of each flower. If she doesn't do so with the first one, she'll start after the second one. I'm sure of it.”

His mother grinned. “My, my,” she marveled, “you really did think this through.”

“Yeah, I gave this a lot of thought,” Matt answered with a shrug. “I probably shouldn't have.”

“It's a great idea, Matthew,” she assured him, smiling softly. “Very... romantic.”

“That's a big word,” he scoffed.

“Well, that's a big gesture. Showering the girl with flowers every day for a week.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I'll do it, one day. When I feel our timing's right.”

“And when's that gonna be?” she asked. He sat on a bench and didn't answer. She sat next to him. “Do you already know which flowers you'll send her?” she continued, softly. “In that distant, blurry future?”

“I... hum... I may have made a list,” he admitted.

She grinned. “Then tell me all about it,” she said. “I'm pretty sure you don't know what most of the flowers you picked look like.”

He burst out laughing. “Fair enough.”

On Monday, Karen received a pink camellia. She heard loud knocks on the door, and opened it to find the flower delicately wrapped in white silk paper. There was no name on it, no note. Just a tag, with the name of the flower.

“Weird...” she let out, closing the door behind her. Maybe it was a mistake. She had no idea who could send her a gift. A flower, no less. This wasn't any present, it was a romantic gesture. Matt's face flashed before her eyes at the thought, but she shook it off. Matt? Sending her flowers?

Well, was it that crazy...?

She knew Matt would be capable of such gentleness, but he hadn't really shown her any sign of romantic interest. Or perhaps she was refusing to see them, just like she was refusing to let him see how hot and bothered she was whenever he was around. She heaved a sigh, and placed the flower in a vase. She liked it. Whether it was destined to her or not, might as well keep it.

The next day, as she came back from work, she found another flower on her doormat. “What the hell?” she said, loudly. She grabbed it and looked for a clue, anything that could tell her who the mysterious admirer was. Nothing. Just the flower's name: White carnation.

She stepped into her apartment and sat on the couch, her eyes still fixed on the flower. “Okay, so two days, two different flowers, no name, no note. Just... Just the name of the flower.” She frowned, gently put down the carnation and grabbed her phone. What if the note was the flower? She found herself typing “language of flowers” in the search bar and chuckled. This is ridiculous, Karen, she tought. She scrolled down the page of the first website she could find, and looked for the meaning of the first flower she received. “Camellia... pink...” she mumbled. “longing for you. Wow, that's pretty straightforward.” She did the same with the second flower. It meant 'Sweet and Lovely, innocence, pure Love.' “There's definitely a pattern here,” she said, her eyes still narrowed.

At least, she hadn't received a box of rotten roses. That would've been ominous. She didn't know whether she could take those gifts seriously, but she was sure it wasn't dangerous. Someone was playing with her... and her guts told her it was Matt Murdock.

Who else?

That second flower was meant for an innocent. She remembered their talk in the crypt. “You always treated me like I was innocent. It was nice that you thought of me like that.” This couldn't be a coincidence.

“Well, we'll see tomorrow,” she sighed.

On Wednesday morning, she got up and headed straight to the door. An orchid. She didn't need to read the tag this time. She took the flower and ran her fingers on its petals. A soft smile broke across her face. Imagining Matt selecting the flowers and sending them to her put butterflies in her stomach. She could feel their wings flap, faster and faster. She brought the flower to her chest and went back into her apartment.

That day, at work, she didn't talk much. She didn't want to say anything about the flowers. She couldn't talk to Foggy, he would get too excited and he'd ruin the whole thing for Matt, and she couldn't talk to Matt, because she wanted to see where this was heading. He was pretty good at hiding his emotions. It's as if he didn't know about it all. But she knew.

Dammit.

She had recognized the flower today, so she didn't look up its meaning. She closed her tabs and visited her now favorite website.

“Love, beauty, refinement, beautiful Lady... That's nice,” she whispered. She took a sip of coffee and kept reading. Chinese symbol for many children.

FOR. MANY. CHILDREN.

She spat out her drink all over the keyboard.

“You okay, Karen?” Matt inquired from his office.

“What?” she replied while grabbing a tissue to wipe off the drink.

“I heard you spit out your coffee.”

Heightened senses. Right. She hoped he hadn't listened to her insane whispering.

“Yeah, it was too hot,” she said. “But I'm okay.”

“All right,” he simply answered before getting back to work.

That was a close one. She took in a breath and closed the non-work related tabs. That man would be the death of her.

The next morning, there was no flower on the doormat, and Karen was disappointed. Having to go to work without a new mystery to solve? Not fun. She thought about it all day long at work, wondering if Matt had given up because of her silence, or if she had been wrong about the whole thing.

“Guys,” she asked, “I was reading that article last night, about Chinese portraits, and I realized I don't know anything about you.”

“Are you saying we're strangers to you, Karen?”

“No, you obviously aren't. But still, I'd like to know that kind of stuff. So, Foggy, if you were a color, which one would you be?”

“Yellow,” he replied in a heartbeat.

“Yellow?” Karen echoed.

“Yeah, it's an underrated color. It's a happy one. I like it.”

She nodded. “Okay, fair enough. Matt?”

He gulped. “Hum... red.”

“Shocker,” Foggy chuckled.

“Yeah,” Karen laughed, “not the smartest question to ask you, sorry. What about that one: if you were a flower? Which one would you be?”

She waited for his answer, trying to remain as calm as possible. She didn't want him to hear her heart and suspect anything.

“Woah, I never actually thought about that...” he replied. “A cyclamen, I guess.”

Foggy frowned. “Is that a flower?” he scoffed.

“No, Foggy. It's a washing machine,” Matt deadpanned. He shook his head and grinnned. “Of course it's a flower, we're talking about flowers, aren't we?”

“I didn't know you were such a connoisseur,” Karen remarked with a smile.

Matt sighed. “It's mainly due to my Catholic upbringing. My father once told me it was my mother's favorite flower. It's said that the red spot in its center represents the Virgin Mary's bleeding heart.”

“That's an awfully detailed answer, dude,” Foggy quipped.

“Like I said, Catholic upbringing. We love drama.”

They all burst out laughing. Drama was Matthew Michael Murdock's third name.

“At least you'll know which flowers to offer Maggie for her birthday,” Foggy noticed.

“Yeah,” Matt said before heaving a sigh.

A soft smile broke across Foggy's face. He was certainly thinking of a feisty blonde. “There's something very romantic about flowers,” he said. “What do you think, Matt?”

Matt held his breath, and Karen frowned. “Yeah, there is,” he let out.

He wouldn't admit to anything, but Karen was now sure he was up to something. He could tell what people felt, if they were lying, and much more, but he was not that good at hiding his own emotions. And the quiver in his voice, as faint as it was, was enough for Karen to confirm her theory. Matthew Murdock was her secret admirer. And she couldn't wait to come home.

When she went home, there was still no flower to be seen. But she had been with Matt all day, so it made sense. She relaxed, ate, and eventually went to bed. She couldn't sleep.

Around midnight, she got up, too anxious to give in to dreams. She was preparing a hot chocolate, when she heard some noise outside her door. And suddenly, it felt like Christmas. She rushed to the door and opened it swiftly. On the doormat, she found a bellis perennis. A common daisy. The most simple, banal flower you could ever find. So small, lost in the middle of the doormat. Yet, her heart skipped a beat when she picked it up. This flower... it represented them. Their love had stemmed from daily life, long before she knew he was Daredevil. There had been no confettis, no blare. Love had crept on them, gently. The attraction was there from the start, but the depth of their feelings had blossomed like a daisy, until it weathered away.

Was this the end of winter?

She tucked it behind her left ear, and looked up its signification. She had almost forgotten there was a message that came with that flower.

“Innocence, loyal love, purity,” she read. She smiled fondly and fiddled with the petals, softly. She didn't know about innonce or purity. She didn't think she deserved to be called an innocent, not when she had killed. But loyal love... It was all the reassurance she needed.

She went to bed, excited and yet, strangely relaxed. She put the tiny daisy on the pillow next to hers, and fell asleep picturing Matt in its stead.

6.00 am. The night had been short. Karen opened her eyes with difficulty, but smiled when she thought about the fifth flower. She got up and headed straight to the door, as she had been doing each morning since the beginning of the week. A flower was already there, lying on the doormat.

“Lily-of-the-Valley,” Karen whispered.

She grabbed the delicate flowers and inhaled their scent. She played with the snow-white bells, So far, it was the most complex flower of all. Because of its scent, the cascade of tiny bells. She tried to imagine how Matt would 'see' this flower. It was so many things at once. She got back inside and sat on her couch, eager to find out about the meaning of her gift. “Sweetness, tears of the Virgin Mary, return to happiness, humility, you've made my life complete.” That last sentence got the best of her. The only thing she wanted to do at the moment was kissing that idiot. Drag him by the tie and never let him go.

Because he made her life complete too, and few people in the world were lucky enough to feel the same way about anyone.

On Saturday, she received a violet. It meant “Let's take a chance on happiness.” The message was clear. She placed the flower in between the pages of one of her favorite books, and the words kept ringing in her head all day long.

On Sunday, the daily gift was delicately wrapped in red silk paper. Karen took it, and waited until she was sat on her bed to open it. She found a red tulip.

Her favorite flower.

“How on earth...” she let out, dumbfounded.

She didn't need to look it up. She knew what it meant.

It meant “Believe me,” and it was a declaration of love.

She held back tears and covered her mouth with her free hand. She felt ridiculous for getting so emotional over a flower. But this one... This one got straight to her heart. Because it was also her mother's favorite flower. She had planted them in their backyard, and Karen used to take care of them when she was a little girl. It was also the flower she had laid on her mother's casket. Her last token of love. It had remained a symbol of death and pain for so long. Now, it would forever stand as a symbol of hope. She suddenly noticed that the usual note did not only feature the name of the flower, this time.

“Meet me where you opened up to me, at 8:00pm,” she read.

The crypt. That's what he was referring to. What an odd place for a date, she thought, even though she did acklowledge the weight of the symbol. She placed the tulip in a vase with all the other flowers, and sighed thinking about all the hours that separated her from Matt Murdock.

In Matt's language, Sunday meant mass. So here he was, sitting on a bench with his mother, at Clinton Church. Father Lantom's successor was okay, but it would never be the same again, and the ache was still vivid in Matt's heart.

“How's Karen?” Maggie suddenly asked.

“Karen?” Matt echoed.

“Yes, Matt. Karen. Your... friend. Are you going to react like this every single time I mention her name?” She smirked and she knew he had caught that because he was holding back a smile.

Matt finally gave in, and smiled, fondly. “Yeah... She's doing great.”

“Good. We were talking about you, a while ago.”

“That bad, uh?” Matt chuckled.

The nun pouted. “I may have teased her a little bit,” she confessed.

Matt sighed. “Maggie-”

“She blushed,” she cut him off. “A lot. She's even prettier when her cheeks are flushed.”

Matt bet she was. He felt sorry not to be able to see the redness on her cheeks, but he could still get a pretty detailed picture. He could feel the warmth of her skin, he could hear her blood slowly making its way from her heart to her face. In fact, it was as if her heart were cut into two parts, each one nestling underneath the flesh of her cheeks. And he cherished those moments.

He nervously tapped on the bench. “What did you tell her?” he inquired.

“We were talking about that night, down in the crypt.” She didn't look at him. Instead, she looked up, both her hands rested on her lap. She paused for a few seconds, and scanned his face, eager to see his reaction. “I asked her how you managed to fit into that coffin,” she admitted.

Matt's lips twitched upwards, ever so slightly. “Well, it did feel pretty cramped in there.”

“From what I gathered it didn't really bother her,” she quipped. Her son frowned. “What, are you surprised?” she continued.

“Our lives were being threatened, I-”

“There's a name for what you're doing, Matthew,” she said. “It's called Murdock bullshit. I've seen too much of that. Be honest. Was fear the only emotion you remember feeling then?”

Matt's fingers stopped tapping. Instead, they squeezed the edge of the bench. “No,” he finally answered. “I... hum.... I felt lucky she couldn't hear my heart.”

“That's more like it,” she cheered. “Lord, I cannot wait to meet my grandchildren,” she added with a smirk.

Matt got up. He placed his hands on his hips, then scratched the top of his head... He didn't know what to do with himself. “Wow, wait a minute, that's not-” he stuttered.

“Murdock bullshit, Matthew,” she answered. “Murdock Bullshit.”

The night was pretty warm and clear. Karen made her way to Clinton Church, her heart pounding fast in her chest. She felt like she was about to throw up.

“It's gonna be okay, Karen,” she whispered to herself. “It's just good old Matt.”

Good old Matt. Had he ever been good old Matt? She couldn't remember a time when she was not attracted to that idiot.

She finally pushed the doors of the church, which was empty at this hour. Only a few nuns were strolling around. She walked down the stairs that led to the crypt, and shivered. She hadn't come down here since the... incident. She could still feel the sheer terror, hear the erratic sound of her heart. It felt unreal, really. But when she reached the crypt, she remembered the way Matt's presence had soothed her. She was so busy playing the events of that unholy evening in her head that she almost didn't notice the lighting. Red, green, yellow, blue... A myriad of colors splashed the floor. She looked up... The ceiling was covered in garlands. Dripping chilis.

“Just like... How...” she let out, mesmerized.

A small table was set, with two plates, two glasses, a bouquet in its center and small candles surrounding it. She could smell curry, and noticed two bottles of wine in a corner.

He had recreated the Indian restaurant. Their Indian restaurant.

Karen dropped her bag and kept walking around the crypt, unable to believe her eyes. It was magic. She unfolded her right hand, palm up, as if to catch raindrops. She couldn't help but stare at the colors dancing on her skin, A gentle smile broke across her face, and tears burned the back of her eyes. It felt like walking into a dream. A dream made of thousands of lights dripping from the ceiling. A dream in which the colors of the garlands mingled with the colors of the stained glass. A dream in which Matt Murdock and Karen Page were happy.

All of a sudden, she heard someone walking down the stairs. She turned around, and saw Matt. He looked surprised.

“Karen?” he said.

“Hi, Matt,” she answered.

He went up to her slowly. She noticed he had his glasses on, and he was all dressed up.

“What are you doing here?” he inquired, frowning.

Karen crossed her arms over her chest. “I, hum,” she stammered, “I thought you wanted me here?”

Matt put his hands on his hips. “What? I mean, I didn't, I don't...”

“What are you doing here, then?” she cut him off, her head tilted to the side.

“Maggie asked me to meet her down there. Wait a minute...” He sighed and scoffed. “This, this is her doing.”

“What?”

He rubbed his nape. “My... I think my mother is setting us up.”

Karen gulped. If this wasn't his doing... Then did he send her the flowers at all? Was it all just a joke? She grabbed her bag and made her way to the stairs.

“Wait, Karen,” Matt pleaded.

She dismissed him with a flick of the wrist. “No, Matt, it's fine, I'll just go.”

“Maybe we could...” she heard him as she was about to exit the crypt. She tried to open the gate, without success.

“She locked us up, didn't she?” Matt asked.

Karen sighed and went back to him. “She did.”

“Look,” Matt began, “maybe we could just... enjoy the evening? I mean, from what I understand of the situation... the crypt must be looking good. And the food sounds delicious.”

She bit her lower lip. Was she really going to pretend she didn't want this? She felt... betrayed, but Matt had nothing to do with that. He was a victim, as much as she was. She nodded, put down her bag, and finally took off her coat.

“Might as well,” she said. “After all, this gotta be the best curry in town.”

Matt smiled. He didn't really understand what was going on exactly, but he knew how Maggie had pulled it off. He was guilty as charged. He had told his mother about his future plan to win Karen back. Recreating the Indian restaurant was part of it. She had outdone herself... for them. For him.

They sat at the table, both as awkward as they were on their first date. Matt uncorked a bottle of wine he had grabbed, and poured its content into their glasses. “I hope this one will be to your liking, Ms Page,” he quipped, “I know you're a connoisseur.”

“I'm sure it'll be delicious, Mr Murdock,” she answered, smiling.

“So, cheers?” he asked, holding up his glass.

“Cheers,” she replied, clinking her own glass against his. She took a sip of wine, and he heard the liquid going down her throat. He shivered.

“Well,” she went on, “I guess this is the right time to ask you a question.”

“I guess it is.”

She stared at him for a few seconds, thinking about the best way to word her thoughts. “Matt...” she began, hesitatingly. “Have you been... Hum... Have you been sending me flowers this week?”

He gulped and shook his head. How... “I... No, I haven't,” he said.

“Oh,” she replied. She was disappointed. Upset, even. Did his mother... Did she use his idea?

“Karen,” he said, placing his hand on hers, “I haven't been sending you flowers, I believe my mother has. But... It was my idea. Not hers.”

Karen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he sighed, “a few days ago she asked me if I was ever planning to try and win you back. I told her I was, and I told her about this... About this crazy idea. Sending you flowers everyday for a week. And... counting on you to find out about the secret messages that would go along.”

So it was his doing, in a way. Karen's heart skipped a bit. Suddenly, she didn't care whether he could hear her heartbeat or not. Matt Murdock had probably spent hours thinking about how he could win her back. He had picked flowers according to their meanings, he had decided in which order he should send them... He had done all of this. Maggie had just... given him a little push. But some questions remained.

“Why the red tulip?” she asked.

He sighed. “Remember that day? We walked by a florist and there were red tulips outside. I... I sensed a lot of sadness, a lot of pain in you. I figured this flower had something to do with either your mother or your brother. And as the meaning was particularily fitting... I thought I'd include it in my list. Because it's important to you.”

She held back tears, and took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said. “It does mean a lot. This flower... It has been a token of pain for so long. It was about time I moved on.” She peered at his hand. “Is there... Is there such a flower in your heart? A... painful one?”

He nodded, and waited a few seconds before answering. “Yes. Orchids.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But... You sent me one. Why?” she asked.

“Same as why I sent you a tulip,” he answered, his fingers rubbing his napkin. “I need to... overcome that sorrow.”

“Can I ask you... what kind of sorrow?” she inquired, hesitatingly.

He shook his head. “I'm not sure we should get into that now, I don't wanna ruin the evening.”

“Matt, you won't be ruining anything,” she said softly. “I need to know, and you need to tell me, if... If you want us to move forward. Together.”

“Okay, okay. Do you, hum... Do you remember that woman you saw in my bed, last year?

Of course she did. She could still see her, her long black hair, her dark eyes, Matt's shirt on her flesh. “Yes,” she confirmed.

“I wasn't lying to you, nothing had happened. But... She was my ex-girlfriend. We met at Columbia. We were young, and irresponsible and wild. We loved each other, deeply. She was... It was as if I was fire and she was gasoline, you know? It was passion, it was... We crashed and burned.” He stopped, and took a sip of wine. Liquid courage, Karen tought. “One day,” he continued, “we broke into a house and made plans for the future... I felt alive. I felt immortal. But this was the house of the man who had my father killed. Roscoe Sweeney. And she knew it.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “She had brought me here to get me to kill him. Avenge my father. But I couldn't do it. She left... And only came back last year. She waltzed back into my life, asking me for help with the Yakuza.”

Karen gulped. “Was she... Was she the rich client?” she asked.

Matt nodded. “She was.” He took her hand in his, and softly rubbed her palm with his thumb. “I know I should've told you, but I was trying so hard to keep these two sides of my life apart. You and her. Matt and Daredevil. Now I know I was wrong. I helped her, but she...” He took a deep breath. The pain was still searing. “She died, Karen. She died in my arms.”

“Oh, Matt, I'm so sorry...” she said, covering her mouth with her free hand. Just imagining him going through that hell on his own... “Why...” she went on. “You could've told Foggy and me.”

He hung his head. “I went to her funeral. There was only me and Father Lantom. I bought her orchids, because she loved those flowers. That I remembered. I hadn't forgotten anything. But... We were only together for moments, you know?” A weak smile broke across his face. “Her name was Elektra,” he let out, “and... She's always been a shooting star. Months later, when I came to you to get you to go to the precinct... She came back.”

Karen's jaw dropped. “What do you mean, she came back?” she inquired, confused.

“They brought her back from the dead, Karen. I know it sounds crazy, but they did. I saw her. So did Jessica, Luke and Danny. She was with me when Midland Circle collapsed.” She could feel his body tense by the way he tightened his grasp on her hand, so she covered it with hers. “I was... holding her in my arms,” he went on. “And then I woke up in a bed and she was gone.” Matt Murdock was now on the brink of tears. “I lost her twice, Karen.”

She left her sit and wrapped her arms around him. “I'm here, Matt,” she told him before kissing the top of his head. “I'm here.”

He placed his hand on her forearm and smiled. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spoil the mood...”

“I needed to hear this, Matt,” she said. “She's a part of you, I get it. We all have our scars. I have my tulip, you have your orchid. I'm just... sad you had to go through all of this on your own.”

“I didn't tell you because I felt guilty,” he admitted. “I didn't want you to think you were second best, or that I didn't care about you.”

She smiled, and caressed his chin, urging him to hold his head up. “No need to worry about that, Matt. After this... grand gesture, I think I know just how much you care about me. Which is... as much as I care about you.”

Matt brought her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes. He should've told her long ago. His secrets, his scars, this doubts, he was now ready to lay it all at her feet, and more. The joy, the pain. It was hers.

“I guess Maggie's plan worked,” Karen laughed. “We poured our hearts out before eating anything.”

Matt laughed back. “Yeah, I guess it did,” he giggled. “Now I'll have some of that curry. Wouldn't want to waste it.”

“That'd be a shame.”

They ate and spent two hours chatting, about good memories and bad ones. They laughed, all lot. They touched, a lot. She stared at him. He drank in her wonderful self. They were finally truly together. Neither of them wanted that night to end, but around midnight, they both figured they ought to tell Maggie her plan had worked.

“Come on, Maggie, open the gate!” Matt called. “We figured things out, you won.”

A couple of minutes later, the nun came to them. “I didn't want you to 'figure things out',” she said. “My work's obviously not done. So you two lovebirds better settle for the night, 'cause I won't open that gate before the morning.”

“But-” Matt tried.

She shook her head. “Good night, Matthew, Karen.”

She left and the 'lovebirds' didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

They ended up laughing.

“What more can she possibly want?” Karen giggled.

“Well, she did mention grandchildren,” Matt joked.

Karen's heart pounded against her chest. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. Now was the time for more wine... but here wasn't much left.

Matt frowned. “Are you... Are you blushing, Ms Page?” he quipped.

“Why would I be blushing, Murdock?” she beamed.

“I don't know,” he replied. “I just know you are.”

She bit her lower lip, and couldn't help but smile. It was both unnerving and incredibly comforting to know he could see right through her despite his blindness. “As much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I'm exhausted.”

“Yeah, me too. Hopefully we'll find a more comfortable spot than this coffin.”

“I'm not getting in there ever again,” Karen laughed.

Matt scrunched up his nose. “Well... I'm afraid there's only one bed down here.”

“So you're telling me Maggie literally wants us to sleep together? That's like the most-used fiction trope.”

Matt gave her a shrug. “If it's a trope, then it means it works.”

“Point taken, I guess,” she scoffed.

Matt smiled, and put both his hands in his pockets. “Karen,” he said softly, “will you sleep with me? With no ulterior motive, of course.” He crossed his heart.

She pouted. “You know, sometimes I actually have to remind myself you're a lawyer.”

They both laughed. They kicked off their shoes and, without a word, jumped into the bed. It was a one-person bed, of course, but they managed to fit in, with Karen's body curled up against his. He breathed into her neck and she felt like she was melting. Gently, he pulled up the blanket over them, and wrapped his free arm around her. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Suddenly, neither of them was tired. They wanted to stay awake, fearful of finding out that this had been a dream in the morning.

“There's one thing I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Matt whispered in her ear. “I feel like  now's the right time.” He nuzzled into her neck. “I love you, Karen Page,” he let out. “More than flowers can say.”

Karen's heart was racing. She turned around, and caressed his cheek, her eyes roaming his face covered with the colorful lights raining down from the ceiling. “I love you too, Matt Murdock. Best florist in town.”

This brought such a smile on his face... She had never seen the likes of it. It was wide, and blissful... She wanted to dive into that smile, make it hers. She closed the small space between them and lay her lips on his. Her mouth simply brushed his, and they breathed into each other, until he kissed her. For what felt like centuries, they relished in the union of their bodies, fingers laced together, lips sealed against one another. Tulip and orchid finally meeting. Matthew Murdock and Karen Page finally reunited.

There’s shuffling, and little feet pat pat patting away from the bed. Quickly, Matt removes his mask and throws a sweater that is resting on the couch over himself, while the bedroom door opposite his and Karen’s opens.

“Daddy?” comes that little voice, sleepy but excited and he can’t help the smile. He could never, ever help it.

“Hi, baby”, he says, turning to face the five year old that owns his heart. “Did I wake you?”

“No”, she says, walking towards him, clutching her teddy bear with her left hand, and inside his arms. He’s kissing her temple when she goes on. “I was just thinking.”

Oh, his little girl.

“What were you thinking about?”

“School. We started meditating this week, but”, she shakes her little head. “It’s nothing like you taught me. All the kids do it wrong.”

“Well, you’ve been doing it a long time. Your friends just started, you have to be a little patient.”

“Yeah, but they keep giggling. They don’t take it seriously.”

He chuckles and almost tries to lift her to sit on his lap, but then his ribs complain again, so he just sits there on the couch, with her standing in front of him.

“Are you just coming home?” she asks, suddenly.

“What’s that?” he asks in turn, buying time.

“Why are you wearing boots?”

“Daddy had to be out a little late tonight, baby.”

“Why?”

Her mother’s child.

“Work.”

“Don’t you work in an office?”

“I do, bu-”

“I thought you were a lawyer.”

Again, he has to laugh, because she has inherited every bit of Karen’s curious mind, never letting go of an opportunity to ask, demand explanations to things she didn’t understand.

“I am a lawyer, honey, but sometimes I have to go some places, to better help my clients.”

“How come?”

“Well”, he says, pulling on her hand until she climbs on the couch by herself and sits by his side. “Sometimes I have to check to see if someone is telling the truth, or to better understand a situation, so I can do a better job in helping them.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

They sit there for a minute, Matt’s fingers twirling a lock of her hair, her little feet hanging off the couch.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Matt’s brows raise.

“Why do you ask that?”

“You usually pick me up when you get home. You didn’t, this time, and mommy said that time that you couldn’t do that when you get hurt, remember? When that car hit you?”

‘The car’ had been Danny, who had gotten carried away during a boxing match.

“I remember.”

“So are you hurt now? Who hurt you? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, baby, don’t worry.”

“But-”

“I didn’t pick you up because I’m tired. Daddy’s not hurt.”

To prove his point, he moved to pick her up from his side and place her on his leg. He did it, but failed to mask the wince.

“See?” she pressed, her voice demanding and already a little scared. “You’re hurt, daddy, I know you are!”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart, it was just a little accident earlier.”

“Last week Mark hit Kevin during recess, and Miss Evans said it is not nice to play like that.”

“Miss Evans is right.”

“But then I remember I saw you once, in that place, and you were hitting a man.”

Oh, boy. That was almost a year ago, when Karen stopped by the gym to pick him up. He was not counting on his daughter remembering him in the ring.

“That’s different. That was boxing, it’s a… Controlled sort of fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there are rules you have to follow. And you only fight people who know how to defend themselves, and understand all the rules, too.”

“So it’s a game?”

She’s five. Are five year olds supposed to have such a sharp attention to details?

“No, not a game. It’s a sport, like baseball. But you have to train really hard to be able to do it, otherwise you can really hurt someone.”

“But you are hurt.”

“It happens, baby.”

“Is this why you’re wearing these clothes? You have to wear special clothes to play-fight - to sport-fight? To keep you from getting hurt?”

Shit. How does he explain the suit?

“I wasn’t fighting right now.”

“Then why are you wearing this?”

“What are you two doing?” came Karen’s voice, hoarse from sleep, from their bedroom door.

“Daddy just got home, mommy”, replied their girl, all too eager to show efficiency. “He’s a little hurt, but don’t worry. He was just poxing earlier.”

“Poxing?” Karen asks, walking to the living room, moving her hair out of her face.

“Boxing, baby”, Matt helps.

“Yes, that.”

“Hmm”. With a yawn, Karen picks her up from Matt’s lap. “You were supposed to be asleep, missy.”

“I know, but I’m stressed”, she says and Matt has to laugh in silence while Karen walks to the kitchen with their girl in her arms.

“You’re stressed”, she repeats, skeptical.

“I have a lot of homework. We’re learning the alphabet and ‘W’ is really hard.”

Matt is quick in his shower. When he gets out, Karen is blowing on a cup of tea for herself and the tiny little hurricane they made together is sitting on the counter with her own mug of warm milk.

“God, you look more like our dad every day”, Karen is saying.

“Do I?” she asks while Matt kisses Karen. “Uncle Foggy says I look like you, mommy.”

“You have my eyes, but the rest is all dad.”

“Miss Evans says he’s really handsome. Does that mean I’m handsome, too?”

Matt is laughing while Karen straightens up.

“Oh, she does, huh? She said that to you, that your dad is handsome?”

“No, not to me. I heard her talking to Mrs. Pang.”

“Drink your milk, baby”, Matt instructed, getting a cookie from the jar for himself.

“So does that mean I’m handsome too?”

“You, my love, are the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She must have found that really funny, because she laughed, so much like Karen, that same pitch.

“How do you know that, daddy? You can’t see me.”

“Oh, you don’t think I know what my daughter looks like? Hmm?” he joked, moving to touch her face, and she closed her eyes, like she did since before she could sit up on her own. “I know every little detail of you, teddy bear, don’t you ever forget that.”

“How do you know, though?”

“Ok, that’s enough questioning for tonight”, Karen decided, putting her mug in the sink and moving to get her from the counter.

“No, but mommy!” came the protest.

“No buts. You have school tomorrow. Say goodnight to your father, you have to go to bed, now.”

“Daddy, tuck me in, please, please!”

“Daddy is tired, honey.”

“Please, please, daddy!”

“It’s ok”, he said, trying not to laugh at all the drama, kissing Karen quickly before lifting the small one in his arms, succeeding in hiding the wince this time. “Say ‘goodnight, mommy’.”

“Goodnight, mommy.”

She leaned in and kissed Karen on the cheek, who returned it with a caress on the chubby face.

“Good night, my love. Sweet dreams.”

He walked with her to the smaller bedroom, once again kicking the little ambulance, “911! 911!” echoing in the apartment.

“When are you teaching me braille?” she asked once she was in bed and Matt was tucking her in.  

“As soon as you learn to read a few more words in school.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. You go to sleep now.”

With a kiss to her forehead and a quick prayer, he left her nightlight on and got up to leave.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Try not to get hurt anymore, ok?”

He smiled.

“I’ll try. Now sleep. Say your prayer.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night, love.”

He lied down on his own bed, sighing, clutching his side, massaging a little of the pain away. He was sore. Claire was gonna make him take some pills, he just knew it.

“I put your mask away”, Karen said, coming to lie by his side, getting under the covers. “You left it on the couch.”

“Oh, thanks. Sorry, she didn’t really give me a chance to hide it.”

With a sigh, she moved and touched his face, supporting her weight on her elbow, looking down at him.

“She’s really smart.”

“Curious. Just like you.”

“Stubborn. Like you.”

“Oh, I’m the stubborn one?”

With a smile he knew she liked, he closed his eyes, moving his hand until he reached her leg, pulling it over him, making her drop to kiss him and then lie with her head on his chest.

“She’s gonna give us trouble, that one.”

“Well”, Karen sighed, adjusting, careful with his wounds. “She’s our daughter. Trouble is probably in her DNA.”

.:.

He got to the office after court and smiled. The baby shampoo scent of her hair took up almost the whole office.

“Hi Vic”, he greeted the secretary who sat on her desk. “Any news here?”

“Hi. No, everything is normal. The little one is in, she’s with Mr. Nelson. How was it in court?”

He smiled and raised his brows, hanging his coat by the door, and the young woman tapped her desk. “You won! That’s great! Congratulations!”

“Thank you. Are there any messages?”

“Not for today, no. Mr. Rand called, to confirm your meeting tomorrow, but that’s it.”

“Ok. You have the notes on the case?”

“I do, they’re on your desk.”

“Thanks. You can go, now, if you want. I imagine Foggy is also done?”

“He is. They’ve been reading for half an hour, now.”

He walked to the conference room and smiled at the scene even before he opened the door: Foggy and kid were sitting by the big table, Matt’s daughter boosted by books and files, a book closed in front of her.

“Ssss…. She… Sheer… lock. Sheerlock?” that little voice bounced off the walls.

“This one is a little different. Sherlock. It’s a name”, Foggy instructed, sweetly.

“Ok. The adventures of Sherlock… Ho… Hol-mes. Holmes.”

“That’s right.”

“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes!”

“Yes! Oh my God, you’re so good at this!”

They high-fived and she giggled.

“What are we doing?” Matt said, walking inside.

“Daddy! Look, I can read this, now!”

Sitting on the chair by her side, Matt pressed a kiss on her head and waited as she got ready to read the rest of the cover.

“This book is ‘The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’. The… Com…plate… Complete! Ill-us-tra-ted sssho- short stooor-y-es. Storyes? Stories! The Complete Illustrated Short Stories!”

“Oh my God, she did it!” Foggy celebrated, over the top as ever, both arms up in cheers.

“That’s amazing, honey”, Matt praised. “But isn’t this book too big? Shouldn’t you start with something smaller?”

She told him that the books her teacher used in class were not very good. “Very silly”, were her words, so she asked Foggy for a better one.

“And you went with British literature?”

“It was the only non-legal book I had handy”, said his friend.

“Daddy I can learn braille, now! I know all the letters and a bunch of words!”

“We’ll see”, he said, putting her on the floor and getting her coat off the back of the chair.

When the three of them left the office, she was perched on Foggy’s shoulders, reading every sign she could while they walked towards his and Karen’s place.

“Pet-sho- Oh! A pet shop!” she pointed while they passed one and Matt pulled on Foggy’s arm to make him walk faster. He did not need her begging for a kitty or a puppy right now. “Daddy!”

“Who’s hungry?”

She read them all the items on the big menu inside the burger place they chose to have dinner, insisting on placing the order herself.

“So, guess what?” Foggy started once they were seated in a booth. “You’re gonna be a godfather.”

Matt took a second, then raised his brows in surprise.

“What?! Oh my God, man, congratulations!”

“What is it?” the peanut asked while Matt and Foggy got up to share a hug. “What’s going on?”

“Uncle Foggy’s gonna have a baby!”

They explained that aunt Marci was pregnant, that it meant she was gonna have a new friend, but it was gonna take a little time for them to get here.

“So”, she asked, mouth full of burger, after they were all sitting down again. “How do you make a baby?”

After five seconds of stunned silence, Foggy burst out in laughter and Matt sighed.

She had been out of town, working on a “story” - she was working with Frank. Foggy couldn’t lie to him before, he can’t lie to him now - and Matt tried not to keep asking for her, but he couldn’t help himself.

“She was so relieved, man”, Foggy told him. “You gotta believe me. She was wrecked when we thought… You know, when we thought you were really gone, she really never gave up hope. I did, I’ll admit it, but she didn’t.”

Which made him happy, he supposed. But he wanted to see her. He needed to talk to her, to apologise, again, for lying, for not letting her in, for pushing her away even when he told himself he was trying. He wasn’t, not really.

He just… He really wanted to see her.

Count the hours as he did, he was asleep when she finally came.

He woke up, his head foggy because of all the meds, and she was sitting there by his bed, soft sobs coming out, her face wet with tears.

How long had she been there?

“Karen…” he calls, but it’s barely above a whisper, and she jumps up, moving closer, sitting by his side on the bed, suddenly crying harder, but her hands are soft on his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks, fingers combing his hair back.

“Oh, my God, Matt-”

He has time to offer her a few reassuring words while she caresses him and cries, but then she’s leaning in and pressing a kiss to his mouth, and suddenly he wants to cry, too.

Why is this so difficult? There is a part of him that had known, pretty much since the beginning, that it was her, it was always gonna be her, but he keeps making everything so complicated. Even when he doesn’t want to, life just keeps-

“I thought I lost you”, she says against his face, and her embrace is soft. He can’t really tell, because he’s so focused on her, but if Claire is watching, there would be no reason to come and make her back off. “When Foggy called me, I was so… I wanted to come back right away, but… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

There’s a tear of two running from his eyes and into the pillow under his head, but he chuckles anyway.

“Why are you apologising?”

“Because I wasn’t here for you when you woke up, I-”

“Karen, Karen, no. Stop. You don’t have to, you thought I was dead, I would never ask you to… It’s ok. I’m just glad you’re here, now.”

He liked having her this close, her hip by his, a hand on his chest, the other one over him, supporting her own weight on the mattress. Matt held the hand she had over his heart, weaving his fingers with hers, caressing her skin with his thumb, squeezing, feeling her bones shift in his hold, the warmth of her skin making him feel better than he had since that building collapsed on top of him.

“I owe you an apology, not the other way around”, he said.

Moving to adjust her own weight by his side, her left hand found his face and she wiped the tear that had rolled towards his pillow.

“Listen to me”, she said, very softly, her voice shaky from her tears, but clear. “I’m sorry for not seeing… For not realizing that this… This thing you do, this huge thing you do, is important to you. I never meant to keep you from it, I thought… I thought it was something that was eating away who you really were, something that was keeping you from your life. I’m sorry, ok? I know what it’s like to have people telling me I’m not supposed to do something, but really it’s what I’m meant to be doing.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. He fought for a long time, so hard, to create this man, this version of Matt Murdock that fit in what he thought was right, that people thought was right. Only to torture himself when he feels alive when his mask is on.

“The only thing I ask, is that you tell me the truth. Ok? You don’t have to lie to me, ever, I will never… I will never turn on you, Matt, no matter how bad you think it is. Ok?”

With a funny feeling inside him, like gearing up to lift the heaviest of weights when it is, actually, very light, he nodded, still holding her hand.

He’s fighting the meds Claire has him on. He would be in a lot more pain than he is if he didn’t take them, so he doesn’t complain. But it’s hard to stay awake, he can’t really fight it, he can feel his body going under again.

“Stay”, he asks, squeezing her hand. “Please, stay.”

“I will”, she promises. “I’ll be here, don’t worry, I’m not leaving you.”

When he falls asleep again, her hand is tight around his, and she’s readjusting again, lying by his side, and Matt tries to focus on her heartbeat.

It lulls him to sleep in less than a minute.

.:.

He was having an intense dream he can no longer remember the moment he opens his eyes.

“Matt”, she’s saying, and he doesn’t want to wake up. Maybe this is a dream, how warm she is, the smell of her skin and her hair around him, her face there so close to his. “I have to go, Matt.”

He lets out a small groan of protest.

“I’ll come back later, I promise.” There is a kiss on his face, another on his lips, then another. “I promise, ok?”

“Stay”, he asks as she untangles her hand from his.

“I’ll come back. I’ll be right back, I promise you.”

When he falls asleep, she is halfway out the door.

.:.

Foggy wakes him up to eat, and, really, as much as he loves his friend, Matt prefers when it’s Claire taking care of him. Foggy means well, but it’s just not the same.

“Since you’re bed ridden, I figured I’ll abuse my position as the healthy one and force you to help me on a few cases while you have your soup.”

“Foggy”, he says as his friend puts the tray with the bowl of soup in front of him.

“No, I’m dead serious. I need your help, man, I’m so behind on a shit load of things, and it’s a little bit your fault, so open your ears and turn your brain on.”

Matt sighs while Foggy sits on the floor and opens a file.

“Where’s Karen?” he asks, chasing the lingering perfume she left on his sheets.

“Work. Says she’ll be back later. I need you to focus now, man, I’m really swamped here.”

With a sigh and a silent prayer that she comes back soon, he picks up his spoon.

“Alright.”

“Great. Let’s start with the small ones. Mrs. Riemelt doesn’t think her ex-husband is being generous enough in his alimony. She wants the house in the Hamptons and another ten percent of his shares. Or a seat on the board. Here’s the offer we have from his lawyer.”

.:.

This one is his favorite. Waking up with the tip of her finger running around his face, slowly, a very light touch.

“Hi”, he greeted and heard her smile in her voice.

“How do you manage to be charming even when you’re waking up, all banged up?”

He was, really, just waking up, so he didn’t come up with an answer fast enough, just lied there and smiled.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, he said honestly.

“How can you be tired, you’ve been lying down for two weeks.

“Foggy made me work today. We spent the afternoon working on his cases.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

They lied there for a minute of two, and he was unashamed in enjoying her caresses on his face, but there it was, again, something in her voice.

“We have to talk, Matt”.

He didn’t want to talk. Whatever it was that she wanted to say, it sounded serious, it sounded not as good as this, not as comfortable as this, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I asked you to tell me the truth from now on, so I think it’s fair that I do that, too.”

He was on his side, turned towards her, and even then, even when she was so serious, he liked that so much, having her there, in bed with him, he wanted that every day, forever, for the rest of his life, he wanted her here with him, near him, where he could reach her.

“I never told you why I came to New York.”

.:.

It was a lot. Certainly a whole lot more than he ever thought she had to say. Never had he thought that Karen, sweet, fun, loving Karen had lived through such horrible things.

At her own pace, she told him about her life, about the accident, about her brother, about running, about Wesley and Fisk and her nightmares. She told him, she cried, he held her.

“It doesn’t matter”, he said when she was done, his hands wet with her tears. “None of it matters. You’re here now, you’re safe, I got you, I promise you, this will never happen again, I won’t let it.”

With a deep breath, to calm herself down, to center herself, she let him kiss her, shallow and long, intense, and he gathered her in his arms, an overwhelming need to protect her, to shield her of everything, from the world, from any harm that could ever, one day, come her way.

She let him. But then, incredibly, against his chest, her hand light on his back:

“No, Matt.”

Stunned, he asked why, why, why not, what does she mean, they’re here, she’s here, he’s here, for her, she never has to go through that again, he’ll keep her safe, he-

“I know”, she interrupted. “I know, I’m not doubting you, I know you… I know, ok?”

“Then why, just let me be here for you, please, let me take care of you.”

She smiled inside his kiss, but he smelled the fresh tears welling under her lids.

“I need to figure myself out first”, she argued, soft, ever so soft, never trying to get away from him. “I need to fix this mess, I need to learn how… You know, how to take care of myself.”

“You’re always saying you can.”

They smiled together, his nose against her face, please, please…

“I know. And I can, but there’s so much I need to fix, there’s so much you… You need to do.”

There it was. That thing. Ever present, ever… Between him and her.

“No.”

Even while he said it, even while he shook his head to deny it, he knew it was true. That she was right.

“Karen, listen to me. I’m here, now. There’s nothing-”

“Yes, Matt, there is. There’s a lot, actually.”

“No, there isn’t.” And then. “I love you.”

The breath left her slowly.

“I know you think you do-”

“No, Karen, please-”

“I know, Matt, but… But there’s so much still going on, with those Japanese guys, with Elektra…”

Hearing her name in Karen’s voice was a little bit of a shock. He froze, realizing he hadn’t been told what had happened to Elektra after Midland Circle. He knew that she had made it out alive, but he didn’t even know how he had survived himself, he still didn’t know anything about it, really, details were a mystery to him.

“Why… What do you… Elektra, I-”

“I met her, when I first came to see you.”

Those words sparked some sort of panic inside him. But, to his own surprise, they also sparked longing. Suddenly he needed to know about Elektra, if she was ok, how they had managed to get out alive. Suddenly, right when Karen is right there next to him.

“She told me you guys are leaving”, she went on.

That took him out of his sudden state.

“What?”

“She said you’re just waiting until you can travel, and then you’re going to her place in France, I guess? I’m not sure.”

“No, that’s not- I never-”

“I think it would be good, Matt. You need some time, to breathe, to think, it’ll be good for-”

“I don’t want to be away from you.”

Just like that. Simple, effortless, it just came out, the truth - one of the many truths - lodged inside him, on the back of his throat and in the base of his heart. He wants to be near her, plain and simple.

“I think it’s a good idea”, she whispers, but her hand slipped away from where it touched him, and that wall, that wall that was invisible, but solid, the wall that he hated with all his might, made itself present between them again. “Maybe some space is good, for you, for me, too. Maybe…”

“Karen”, he tried, trying to keep himself in check, trying to not raise his voice, trying to convince her, as calmly as he can, that he doesn’t want this, he wants to stay right where he is. Right here. “If she told you this, she decided it on her own.”

“She told me it was something you guys talked about before, before she… Died. That you talked about going-”

“We- yeah, we did, but that was before. That was-”

“But”, she went on, interrupting him, voice as soft as cotton, but with the strength of a tractor. “Don’t you think it’s… All messy, here? That it would be good for you to take some time away?”

“From you?”

There was a silence that followed his question, and he could tell she was looking at him, with that face, thoughts running wild inside her head, with nothing he could do about it.

“You want me to go and be away from you? For you to be away from me?”

He wanted to hear a “no”. A “no, of course not”, he wanted a kiss and the decision that they were not gonna talk about that anymore, not gonna think about it anymore, they were gonna be together. Instead,

“I think it would be good”. Her hand, down his throat, twisting everything inside him painfully. “Don’t you? We’re not… We’re not going anywhere. Every time we try, every time we decide to start over, something stops it, something… I don’t know, gets in the way?”

“Yeah”, he agreed, trying to tear that damn wall down. “Yeah, her.”

“No, Matt, it’s not her. It’s not. But that doesn’t matter!” she hurried when he made to interrupt. “I think you should go with her. I really do. Even if it’s to be sure, or to change your mind, but you should deal with this, right? With the elephant in the room. In our room.”

She accepted his hug, his kiss, even hugged him back, but then she pulled back.

“You go with her. Ok? As soon as you’re better, you go with her, and do whatever you need to do.”

“Why are you crying?” he asked and she smiled as the tears rolled down.

“I’m allowed to cry, I think. I’m sending you away with another woman. And I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna come back. So yeah. I’m crying.”

“I’m not going away.”

She pressed a kiss on his lips and sat up.

“Yes, you are.” Arranging her hair, she wiped her face and got up. “Bye, Matt.”

He called her name, called her back, but she walked away, out of the door, out of his apartment, out of the building, into a cab, away from him and he lied there, thinking about everything she said, everything she was right about.

Maybe this was the answer. Maybe he should go wherever with Elektra. If he wanted to stay, to be with her, to live the life he thought he could only live by her side, this was the moment to find out. And if not, if he really wanted to be Matt Murdock, lawyer from Hell’s Kitchen, working to help the people of his neighborhood, that needed his help, with his best friend, wearing a suit and a tie, he would come back, back to all of this. Back to her.

The only question is, would she be here, waiting for him? Would the world stop around her, would she stop being herself, good, amazing, Karen, would everyone else become blind to this woman, the best woman, and just leave the path free for him? Would she not meet another man, one that recognized the chance he had right in front of him, one that would not jump at the chance to be with Karen Page?

Very, very unlikely.

He fell asleep eventually, and woke up to a hand, a finger twirling a short lock of his hair around itself.

Hesitation poured out of her. He was focused on Foggy, but it was like a physical thing, poking him on the side. ‘You fucked up. You fucked up. You fucked up.’

But, she was invested on it, she is very professional, and she didn’t contest him. Just stood there not meeting Foggy’s eyes when he looked at her for confirmation, agreeing with Matt’s statement by not saying anything.

He promised to make it up to Foggy and to her, and, really, he’s half surprised that this is all it takes for her to go with him.

Now she’s here, sitting on his couch with him, eating Thai food with a plastic fork, barefoot, drinking wine out of the wrong glass, walking him through what had happened in court, helping him build his case, radiating heat, that long hair of hers moving in a way that made him purposely ignore it, otherwise he would not be able to do anything useful.

And he caught himself flirting. It’s not like he can’t do it, he can now, there’s this delicious thing going on, starting, simmering between them, it’s so good, it warms him up from the inside. Right now, though, they have work to do, this trial is already almost impossible, they really have to focus, but her hair and her voice and her bare feet and her skin and her perfume and her voice, shit, he has to focus.

“You get Tepper thinking about the real report”, he goes on, and she hums, following his train of thought. “The real truth, and then when he’s disoriented, I follow up with something like… ‘Who had you change the report?’. And even if he says ‘no one’, it proves-”

“It proves that the report was changed. That’s brilliant.”  

He’s smiling, now, not even because she caught up so fast, but because she is smiling, a mirror reaction he can’t help.

“See, you’re a natural”, he says, and it can’t even be considered flirting. Foggy would disagree, but he stands by it.

“Well, I keep good company.”

Oh, thank God. She’s definitely not mad anymore. Smile and body language and heartbeat. Check check check.

“Ah, you know what?” she goes on, untucking her legs from under her and Matt has to actively stop himself from focusing on her body. “Why don’t I help you go through Tepper’s bread-crumb questions? We could, you know, set ‘em up, knock ‘em down?”

“Alright, but it’ll be boring.” A giggle, that makes him go on. “And tedious.” She looks his way, file open on her knees, and he takes another bite of his food. “Could take all night.”

Fuck. No. Stop it. You’re supposed to be working.

“Hmm”, she hums, and Jesus help him. “Well, I don’t mind.”

He’s doing it, focusing on her, the way that lock of hair follows her movements and how the pages slide through her fingertips and how her toes touch the floor and she notices, asks “what?” and he asks if she ever considered law school, because he has to say something, so he just asks the question that had made him wonder once or twice, to maybe steer the conversation away from things they’re not supposed to be doing right now.

Karen laughs and dismisses it, and he jokes about Nelson, Murdock and Page, and it actually works. They’re not exactly working, but a break is not bad, they’ve been looking at the case for hours, now.

She asks if he ever thinks about the night they first met and he lets it out that yes, he does, all the time, and it was not something he meant to admit like that. Well.

He’s closer to her, now, the careful distance he had put between them all but gone, and her voice adjusts to it when she reminiscences about the hours she spent alone in the police station before he and Foggy took her case. But then her tongue flicks out, quickly wetting her lips, a quick scrape of teeth on her lower lip and he’s gone. That’s it. It’s over.

“And then we came back to your place.”

He’s leaning towards her before he even decides to do it, nose on her cheek. The hand on her knee, though, did have his permission.

“I offered you thai food”, he points out, quickly motioning to the coffee table where the containers sat.

“Yeah”, she says, barely above a whisper, doing absolutely nothing to remove the hand he closed around her knee. “I remember everything about that night.”

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, on his way to her ear, where he plans to descend to her neck. Something he had been wanting to do for a while, now.

“Yeah. It’s not everyday you life is threatened”, she goes on, turning to him, tipping her head so he can move better, left hand on the arm he has supported on the back of the couch, sliding up from his elbow, making it’s way through his bicep to reach his shoulder. “And then saved by a man in black.”

He is filled with something that feels a lot like jealousy. Which is insane, because she was talking about him, how can you even be jealous of yourself? But she doesn’t know it’s him, she thinks it’s some random guy dressed in all black that happened to save her life that night, and that, well, it irks him.

He wants her mind on him. On this, on the kiss he is pressing behind her ear, not on some guy that saved her life - even if that guy is him, because she doesn’t know it.

Yet, offers his mind, and that thought makes him feel good.

“You gave me your shirt”, she goes on. Success.

“I am a gentleman”, he jokes, a hand on her face, turning it so he can kiss her, and she’s smiling when his lips touch hers.

Kissing Karen is something he can easily see himself getting addicted to. He’s done it only a handful of times so far, and here he is already, feeling his skin warm up to the feeling of her lips on his, his body responding when she opens her mouth and welcomes his tongue against hers, the nails on his scalp sending sparks of electricity through him. His left hand lifts and closes on her hair, keeping her there, kissing her slowly and deeply, pulling her to him after a second, smiling when she giggles, pulling her on top of him, lying down on the couch.

Her hair is dripping down as he kisses her, she is adjusting on top of him and he pulls her skirt up a bit, so she can move that leg, support a knee on the cushion by his hip, his own knee lifting to adjust his leg around her. God, she feels so good.

His arms are tight around her, hand on her hair, leg intertwined with hers, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, musing on the back of his mind that he much prefers wine when he tastes it on her tongue.

“Hmm”, she hums, nipping on his bottom lip, slowing down, changing the angle of her head, not moving from when she lies on top of him. “We have work to do, councilor.”

“Yeah”, he agrees, because they do, they have a ton of stuff to do, even if he much prefers to do this. “Yeah, I know.”

He pulls her knee at the same time he holds her head against him and sits up, making her giggle against his mouth, kissing him sweetly, hands caressing his face, he could sit here forever doing this. Forever.

“Ok”, he says instead, because they do have work to do. “Let’s hear those questions.”

She is a gift, he thinks, a gift he most definitely does not deserve, because she kisses his face and hugs him to her for a moment, a peck on his cheek before she gets off him, turns around to get her very organized files, opening one up, checking her notes.

Matt takes one more sip of his wine - dull and not as alluring and sweet as it was a second ago, when her tongue tasted of it when it was sliding against his - and sits against the couch, his side pressed against it, arm around the back, reaching for her, guiding her to sit with her back to his chest, legs stretched in front of her.

“Ok”, she sighs, turning pages. “You wanted to start with the report?”

“Yes”, he agrees, placing a kiss on her temple, forcing himself to focus on the case, now.

.:.

Presence

She sees it all the time. The people at the office complaining about having to attend anniversary dinners with their significant others when there was not enough time, there was too much work, they were tired.

And it’s not that Karen judged them. She understands, sometimes there is so much to do, it can be overwhelming. And she knows, that that honeymoon phase, that made her and Matt want to spend every free minute glued to each other, it was not forever. It was going to phase, eventually.

But, for now, she couldn’t relate too much. For now, she would count down the minutes until she could turn the computer off and leave the office, take the first cab available and drive to his place or run home and wait for him there.

Even when she had to wait for him at the restaurant when they both had energy to go out, when he called apologising, that he was going to be late, but he would be there soon, she would still smile, still roll her shoulders and take another look at the menu, trying to anticipate what he would order.

And when he came in, bending to kiss her and pulling his seat from the other side of the table to sit by her side, his arm around her back, asking about her day, and she could see the fresh bruise under his glasses, or the split skin of his knuckles.

Matt is busier than the average boyfriend. Her career took up a lot of her time, too, but he was a very special kind of lawyer, working both for the people who cannot afford to pay him and for people who can (he has to survive somehow, and New York is not a cheap city to live in), plus his night activities, with people like him, special in their own personal way, fighting, giving their all to protect those who did not ask for their help or knew they needed it. It’s safe to say his schedule is more than full.

So it filled her heart with a feeling it was almost alien, an euphoria, a giddiness and a warmth that spread all over when she saw him running, trying, making an effort, refusing to reschedule on her, when he fell asleep with his head on her lap while she watched that movie that has been on her Netflix list for so long instead of falling asleep in bed, just because he wanted to be with her.

“Hi, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry”, he would say, placing hurried kisses on her lips, hurrying to change out of his work clothes so they could go out for drinks, for a walk, for food. And she would try not to sigh, and yes, of course she wanted to go out, see the city, enjoy her boyfriend and her time with him.

But sometimes, just the fact that he was still willing to, after a hard day, even when he was limping, even bone tired as he would be, that was enough. So she would stop him from putting a fresh shirt on, hold him, kiss him until he let out that breath that she knew was holding him up.

“We can go out another time”, she would say.

And, of course, stubborn man, Matt Murdock, he would argue.

“No, I’m fine, we should go. We have to eat anyway.”

Karen was stubborn, too.

“Matt. You can barely stand up straight.”

“Karen-”

“No. Don’t even try using your lawyer voice with me, it’s not gonna work.”

He raised his brows.

“My lawyer voice?”

“Yes, your ‘I have a good argument’ voice. It’s not gonna work. You’re tired. And even you, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, have to sleep.” WIth one more kiss to his lips and a hand to his hair, nails massaging his scalp, because she knew it relaxed him. “You’re not really the devil, you know?”

A chuckle, a hand on her back, bringing her closer to him.

“There are some people that swear otherwise.”

Pulling away, she took his shirt from him and hung it back in it’s designated place in his closet and he didn’t need to hug her to his chest to make her smile. Just the fact that he tried, that he was willing to go out again, just to make her happy, just because he knew she wanted to, it was enough.

“The devil couldn’t love me as much as you do.”

He chuckled in her hair and she turned around to face him again, removing his glasses.

“Indian?”

He shook his head.

“I was thinking Italian. Chelsea Market. Cappone’s?”

“Hmm. Yeah. Good idea. Not tonight, though. Tomorrow. Or whenever you’re not half asleep already.”

Holding her by the back of her neck, he kissed her like he wanted to start something, and she let him, for more than a few seconds, enjoying his hands and his body and the noises he was making. When he took a step back towards his bed, though, she resisted.

“You get ready for bed. I’ll bring you your Italian food. Homemade pasta.”

Oh, she loved that smile.  

“My own private chef?”

“That’s right, counselor. And, if you manage to stay awake until after dinner, your own private masseuse, too.”

“Hmm”, he said, suddenly becoming handsy and bolder. “Are you trying to seduce me into submission?”

“Yes”, a bite on his bottom lip, full and red, always so distracting. “And it’s working.”

“It is.”

“Then go do as I said, and I’ll fix your dinner.”

She pushed him into the bed, giggling as he tugged on her wrist, untangling before he could really pull her there with him, walking towards the kitchen to work on the quick pasta she was becoming an expert in preparing.

He didn’t wait for her in bed. Preferred to listen to her moving around in his kitchen, leaning on the counter, asking her to walk him through what she was doing.

Once they were done eating, he promised he would take care of the dishes. “Tomorrow.” Pulling her into bed with him, Matt sighed while she perched on top of him to massage his muscles before going to sleep. It was something she liked to do for him - but it was also an excuse to run her hands all over him and not have that smug grin appear on his face.

On the next day, she heard him refusing a meeting with Jeri Hogarth, that big shot lawyer that Foggy worked with and had ties to Jessica Jones and Danny Rand. Because he had promised her to go out for dinner.

And Karen smiled. Even if dinner was in Chelsea Market, eating Italian subs while standing up, paper bags on the high table next to the window, Karen loved it. Because he was there. And he wanted to be.

.:.

Joy

It’s not a new thing, to laugh when she’s with them. Their history started while she shook with fear and uncertainty, and they made their best to keep her safe. Matt and Foggy made themselves her family.

So her heart soars every time she sees them being friends again.

It took a while, after the death of Nelson & Murdock, for them to talk again. But, Foggy working now where he worked and Matt doing what he did, life forced them together eventually. It was painful, it was awkward, it even made her cry once or twice. But, slowly, they started making their way back to normal.

And she loves, she just loves seeing them teasing each other again, laughing together, sometimes working together, trading information, even arguing, when trying to take the other out of harm’s way.

“Ok, on three.”

“On three of after three?”

“On three, Foggy, or I would have said ‘on four’.”

They’re helping her put her new place back together (they all agreed she should move after the walls on her previous place were decorated with bullet holes). Now, as she took plates from boxes and put them on her new kitchen cabinets, she smiled as they tried to bring her couch from downstairs and place it where she wanted it on the living room.

“Left. No, my left”, Foggy was saying. “No, no, wait, wait! Should we maybe turn it? Is this door wide enough?”

“It’s wide enough. Come on, it’s heavy.”

He walked backwards as Foggy walked forwards, moving the couch carefully and turning it like this and like that until it was in.

“Ok”, Foggy said, throwing himself on it after it was on it’s place. “Beer break.”

Matt laughed and poked a finger on Foggy’s belly.

“You need to exercise, man.”

“Fuck off. Go get me a beer, I’m parched.”

Matt walked to the kitchen and stopped to place a kiss on her cheek before opening it.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing. I just love to see you guys like this.”

He smiled and moved to get three bottles from the fridge.

“Me too.”

He pulled her by the hand and they sat on her couch, talking on the otherwise empty apartment, the easy conversations that were the true aspect of their friendship flowing and flowing, until Karen sighed and got up to keep unpacking the kitchen.

“Come on”, Matt said, getting up, too. “Her bed is next.”

Foggy groaned and got up, following Matt out the door.

“We should have called Luke and Jessica”, he mused and Karen smiled at the sound of Matt’s laughter.

This is how it should be.

.:.

Comfort

As much as she loves those moments, where she felt her small family getting stronger, she also loved, loved, loved the ones where it was just them.

He’s busy. She’s busy. Ellison likes her stories and says she is a natural, but she has had no real journalistic training. She has a lot to learn. It’s not just writing and publishing, she wishes. There are so many details, political ones, technical ones, graphical ones, ethical ones, not to mention the actually writing process of a story. Seems easy, but it’s not.

So time alone, to sit and relax and enjoy being together, it can be a luxury.

So it makes it that much more meaningful when she can lock the world outside her door and windows, when he climbs the stairs from his roof access and strips the red suit off, or when he closes the front door and undoes the knot of his tie and it’s just them.

Of course she loves it when they’re naked and breathless and there’s no space between them. She loves those times. But, if she had to pick, her favorites would be when he gets home and sits in front of her on the couch, in bed, on a chair, and presses his back to her chest, head resting on one of her shoulders, letting her run her fingers through his hair, and she could feel him breathin deep, in and out, his eyes drifting close.

That he can be comfortable with her, even if it’s such a simple thing, means so much. After he told her about how much effort it was to keep that secret from the world, how he felt like he couldn’t trust anyone, be himself with anyone, it made it that much more important.

She wants his honesty, his respect, but she also wants him to trust her. To be himself around her. She wants to be that for him, a source of comfort, someone he liked to be around.

His presence already let her heart at ease. She wanted hers to be the same for him. And when he leaned on her like that, vulnerable, letting her ease away the weight he carried on his shoulders every day, it felt good. It felt right.

“Hard day?” she asks when he does it one night, pulling her attention from that  book she had been meaning to finish reading a month ago. It has started raining outside, his hair and shirt are a little wet from when he hopped off the cab in front of her building.

“Hmm. No. Not particularly. It was actually kind of boring.”

She’s unbuttoning his shirt because a cold is the last thing he needs and he nuzzles his nose on the side of her neck.

“I missed you, though.”

Karen smiles, because oh, she did, too. Every time the weather is like this, rainy but not cold, she felt the urge to be close to him. Maybe it had something to do with that first kiss. Maybe not. She’s not too eager to find out. Doesn’t matter.

Because she has him. And he has her.

“I love you”, he says, eyes closed, one hand closing around hers when she finishes taking his shirt off him.

“I love you, too”, she says with a kiss on his temple.

She tries to read while he sleeps against her, but soon she is resting her head on the back of the couch, staring out the window, drifting off, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

And she wakes a few minutes later when her neck starts hurting, and he gets up and pulls her until they’re both in bed. There, he cuddles against her again, holding her flush against him, and she can feel his heartbeat against her skin.

It’s been awhile since the nightmares kept her up at night.

.:.

Peace

There are days, weeks, sometimes months, that she thinks it’s all pointless. Why fight so hard for humanity, when humanity itself can be such an ugly, hateful, hard thing? Why keep uncovering the filth, why expose evil, why put herself through this if they keep coming back? Greed and hate and so much dirt, so much ugliness. Every time she’s done with one, another one comes, bigger, worse. Sometimes she feels like she’s punching a wall, drowning in a sea of wrong.

And she knows he feels it, too. If her work gives her a front seat view of all that is wrong, his - both of them - puts him right in the middle of everything.

Including those who try to twist the good he tries to do. Who call him a criminal and a deviant, dangerous, demon, devil, dangerous. A threat to those he tries to protect, every day, every day, every day.

She gets to his place and she’s tired. Annoyed and irritated. A senator, hurt and angry that she had exposed where his campaign money comes from and where his voters taxes go, had written a long article, full of lies, accusing her of sensationalism, of taking money from his opponent, of trying to bribe him, trying to make her look as corrupt and dirty as he is.

When Matt got there, she was already in bed, having skipped dinner.

Of course he had read it. She could feel it the way he walked, careful and measured. When he opened the bedroom door and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, Karen waited.

And, sure enough, he bent and dropped a kiss on her head, long and lingering, getting up right after to change into his other suit.

“So”, he started, soft and low, but also sure and determined. “What’s the next move?”

She sighed, turning to lie on her back.

“I don’t know yet.”

“We’ll figure it out.” And then he was, shirtless and barefoot, kneeling in bed, supporting his weight on his hands and crawling the distance from her feet to her face to catch her mouth in his. “You want me to teach him a lesson?”

Karen smiled against his mouth, shaking her head and pressing another kiss or two on his lips.

“No. Best not make it obvious Daredevil cares what people say about me, wouldn’t you say?”

“I can send Jessica.”

“God, no. Can you imagine? She already doesn’t like him. Let’s not give her a reason to use that considerable strength of hers on him.”

He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t mind, actually.”

As it turns out, he didn’t have to do anything. Trish called asking her to come over for some wine, snacks and The Bachelorette reruns at her place. She was trying to convince her friend to let her take a rain check when Jessica took the phone.

“Listen, just stop whining and come over. And bring that righteous asshole you call a boyfriend, I need to talk to him. Claire found some pretty interesting shit, I need to run it by him. Ok? Ok. See you soon.”

So, off they went. She did have a few glasses of wine with Trish, listening on tips how to deal with misogynist assholes while Jessica and Matt talked about their vigilante business. And when they decided to go, she was feeling better. A little light headed from Trish’s expensive wine, but better.

“Tell me the truth”, she said, when he had his arm around her in the cab. “Did you call Trish?”

He didn’t answer right away, so she turned her face and looked up at him, the red lenses of his glasses reflecting the street lights as they drove by them. And then that smirk.

“No.”

Rolling her eyes, she smiled and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

She fell asleep around one in the morning, after he stripped her naked and made her forget why she was upset in the first place. She was boneless and the tip of her fingers and toes were tingling when she pulled him to her, insisting he stayed, please, she didn’t feel like sleeping alone tonight, please, please.

He did. She knew he was going to leave after she fell asleep - and she doesn’t really blame him anymore. It’s his nature. She’s done fighting it. -, but he waited, held her tight and did as she asked.

To her surprise, he was still there the next morning, his alarm waking both of them up, and they got ready for work and ate breakfast together and he walked her to the Bulletin’s door.

“Have a nice day”, he said, kissing her lips and stealing one more bite of her bagel before walking towards his own office, and Karen felt like the exact opposite of how she felt the night before.

Not jaded and angry and hopeless, but energized and ready and… supported. She had him in her corner. He had her. They could do this. He was strong in ways she wasn’t and she was strong in ways he wasn’t. And it sounds sappy and teenager and cliché, but oh, if that doesn’t motivate her to go on.

He had, of course, known how beautiful she was from the minute he stepped into the interrogation room. When she removed her wet shirt, sliding his borrowed one on right after, it didn’t go unnoticed. When she followed him into the rain while he beat the man sent to kill her, that one part of his brain registered the way the fabric and her hair stuck to her skin. The skirts she wore, tight and figure hugging, when her hair was up, when it was down, when she licked coffee foam from her upper lip, he noticed everything.

Only he didn’t notice that he noticed. He was stupid, a moron like that.

So there have, yes, been women after Karen. Back when he thought she was just his secretary, whom he had no business being attracted to.

And then a kiss in the rain. Dinner, smiles, plans, little touches and whispered nothings, everythings. She was so much more than he thought. An infinite more. She couldn’t fit inside the box he had set aside for her. Not even the bigger box, the “girlfriend” box, or the box with a question mark. She was bigger than his crush, bigger than his worry, bigger than his doubts, his patronizing.

Karen was bigger than him.

Even now, when he had his hand on hers and they walked through the empty streets of a chilly Sunday morning in New York City, coffees in hand and no hurry, and she thought she was fully aware of how much he loved her (she wasn’t. He wasn’t, either), she was bigger than him. No matter how much he tried, he could not wrap his mind around her, there was always more, everyday, every minute, every time he thought about it, he discovered he loved her a little more than he thought. Discovered she was a little more.

“How about a real breakfast?” he asked, tugging on her hand, slowing down further. She looked at him, tilting her head.

“You’re not tired?”

They hadn’t slept yet. He was coming from one of the million spider webs he had been untangling with Jessica, Luke and Danny, she had pulled an all nighter at the paper, trying to finish a story for her deadline, so it could make Monday’s edition. Before going home, he had called her and stopped by the Bulletin to pick her up. The sun rose while they exited the building, hand in hand, both exhausted, coats tight around themselves. They stopped for coffee, hoping the warm caffeinated beverage would help them the rest of the way home, at least.

“Yes”, he replied, tugging on her hand, bringing her closer to him, standing there nose to nose in the cold, loving every second of it. “But it’s quiet out, and I think coffee is not gonna sustain us for much longer.”

“Hmm”, she replied, her cold nose on his cheek. “Might be a good idea.”

“Ok”, he touched his lips to hers, tasting her latte and the remains of her lipstck as he spoke. “This way.”

He followed his nose to a bakery, where buns and pastries and more coffee were fresh. They were the first clients in, the young server smiled at them.

They had the whole place for themselves, but they still sat on a small table at the window, so Karen could watch as the sun lit the streets up and the day slowly began, and Matt could count her eyelashes, measure the temperature of her skin with his hands, test how soft she was under his lips, open his mouth and accept the bites of sugary pastry she fed him.

“You finished the article?” he asked, because he wanted to hear her voice.

“Yes”, she sighed, tired, she was so tired. “Finally. It’s out tomorrow.”

“Hmm”, was all he felt like he could say, extremely tired himself, lips on her temple, arm around her chair while they sat as close to each other as they could, his hand grazing her arm.

“How was it, with, uh…” she hesitated, always careful when mentioning his vigilante business outside and he smiled. “With the guys?”

“Good. We made progress, but also…”

“Uncovered more mess?”

He sighed.

“Always more mess.”

She lifted her hand to touch his face, angling it to hers.

“If you need my help…”

He smiled, leaning to kiss her, realizing that they should be home, spending the last of their energy on each other, not trying to stay awake at an empty bakery - even if did smell nice.

“I know. Thank you.

She returned his slow kisses and rested her head on his shoulder, looking outside again, watching the eventual car drive by, the early birds coming out to pick up their papers or whatever, the residual party goers make their way back in.

God, he loves her.

Last winter, when he had walked the streets with his mask in a paper bag, his heart on his sleeve and the air stuck to his throat, to tell her, to finally tell her the truth about him, the very real possibility of him losing her forever was so heavy on his shoulders, he felt like he would crush under it’s weight.

Now, even with the sea of trouble he had to swim through, moments like these made it worth it. It was all worth it when he had it so clear in his mind that he did it for her. He did it for everyone, but, mainly, he did it for her.

“Let’s go?” she asked, swallowing the last of her cinnamon sugary thing, feeding him the last bite of his, lifting her head off his shoulder.

He nodded, they got up, paid and thanked the young server, put their coats back on and made their way back outside, the chilly, dry air of early winter piercing their skin.

Matt and Karen walked back to her apartment hand in hand and, by the time they arrived to her doorstep, he could feel the sun on his skin, the noises of the streets intensifying, people, cars, dogs, TV’s, and he was so ready to turn in.

When he joined her in bed, finally, he smiled and she smiled back.

“Surprise”, she whispered, pulling him to lie by her side, but he rolled to settle on top of her.

“You didn’t need to do that”, he said, his heart warm.

“I wanted to”, she said, caressing his face, smoothing his hair back, pulling the brand new silk sheets to cover them with her feet, the expensive egyptian cotton duvet after. “I know you sleep better with them.”

He did. Fuck Stick, he did sleep better on silk sheets, he slept perfect when he had Karen there by his side on those silk sheets.

“I love you”, he told her, for the hundredth time.

“I love you, too”, she replied, opening up to his kiss, running her hands on him, those hands that were better than the purest silk in the world, nothing topped that.

“I don’t want you spending this kind of money on me, though”, he said after a few seconds, at the same time he enjoyed the feeling of the sheets and the covers and the pillowcases.

“Shh”, Karen urged, laying on her stomach, tapping his chest, a leg intertwined with his. “I’m allowed to do nice things for my boyfriend. Now go to sleep.”

He did.

.:.

Two hours later, he woke up with his phone ringing on the night stand. Luke Cage.

“Yeah?” he answered, still half asleep, whispering not to wake Karen.

“Hey man. Sorry to wake you”, Luke said on the other side of the line. “We got that lead. Might be Gao, might be something else entirely.”

Matt blinked, trying to wake his brain up, noticing Karen’s rhythmic breathing, her toes twitching, which meant the noise was bothering her, she was about to wake up.

“Who’s the source?”

Luke hesitated.

“Punisher?” he answered, but it sounded like a question. Matt sighed.

“Listen. If he’s your source, I trust him to follow up on it. Would you mind if I sat this one out?”

He could almost hear Luke thinking.

“What’s up?”

“I’m-” he started, sighing, deciding on the quickest explanation. “I’m at Karen’s, man. She bought new sheets”, his voice went lower, just in case. “She’s not- she’s not wearing her pajama bottoms.”

“Hmm. Say no more”, Luke replied. “Go. I’ll keep you posted. We gonna need you tonight, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“You do.”

Hanging up, Matt put his phone back on the table and pulled the covers over himself again, turning to Karen, running his hand on her back, under her shirt, down to her waist, going over her underwear, settling on the smooth expanse of her naked bottom. She stirred a bit, let out a breath, turned around and cuddled against his chest.

Matt fell back asleep in less than a minute (but first, he picked his phone back up to remind Luke:

“Don’t let Frank kill anyone”.)