#reader insert daredevil

You couldn’t sleep.

You tried, you really tried. But every time you tossed and turned in bed, all you saw was Matt.

As you always did every night, you waited for him to go to sleep. Sitting at his sofa with a good and warm cup of tea resting in your hands, you watched his windows patiently.

It wasn’t like it bored you. In fact, when it all began, he insisted for you to not wait for him but you made clear that you would do it anyway. And after some months, he’d just accept it, returning home and finding you while you finish your fifth tea.

And every night, he made sure to point out that you put a lot of honey in your tea.

And every night, you would drink it anyway.

This night you waited for him, as usual. When he arrived, on your almost tenth tea, he let you cup his face as you soft muttered if he was okay.

And as usual, he answered with a quiet yes and you check him up anyway before going to bed.

However, now beside him, knowing he was all right, safe and sound... You can’t close your eyes and rest. Every time you dared to close your eyes, visions of someone hurting Matt and taking him away plagued your mind.

On any night, Matt could face someone able to take him and he probably wouldn’t make his way back home. All while you’d be on his sofa, waiting for him and drinking your tea with a lot of god damn honey.

You sighed quietly, turning back face to face to a sleeping Matt. He was so... Collected, you vaguely took a lock of his hair from his eyes and admired his serenity. Sleeping just like an angel, how ironic...

It wasn’t like you were capable of holding yourself when it came to Matt, your fingers were already tracing the marks that old bruises left on his face before you noticed it. The light marks were almost invisible, totally vanished, but you could see each one of them. And you could remember what caused any of them.

Even so, you traced them, every single one. It distracted you from that urge to sleep, besides: seeing all those light marks helped you to remember that he was there. Matt was sleeping beside you, peacefully.

He was just fine. One more night, he got his way to come back home.

A genuine smile spread across your face, and you trailed your finger down to your boyfriend's bare chest. Showing a lot more scars than anyone could imagine.

That was a thing about Matt that you learned night after night: every bruise and every cut will leave a scar.

Just as you were about to trace the new ones on his shoulders, a hand gently gripped your wrist and stopped you.

Matt had his eyes open lazily, unfocused but with his attention turned at you and your steady breath.

“Please, don’t” the words were whispered under his breath, reaching you and enveloping you in that quiet and simple moment.

“Why not?” you asked in another whisper, the vigilante shook his hand and shut his eyes. Between layers of sheets and the two of you, you briefly felt his heartbeat, almost at the same way he can sense yours, “What are you afraid of, sweetie?”

“I-I’m...” he gulped, taken aback by you sensing his fear but you only stroked his jaw, encouraging him to continue, “I almost didn’t get back at home. Back to you”

“I know” you nodded slowly, “But here you are, alive and here”

“It was a close call” Matt licked his lips quickly, tilting his head down, “Those-” he gestured to the new cuts and bruises on his shoulders and the ones that you didn’t notice on his backs.

“Those new ones, as the other ones, represent all the times I nearly failed with the city... With you. Every time that for a second I flinched and couldn't be able to go back to complain about your teas.” that the last comment drew a sad laugh from you, but not for a moment did you leave his face and he picked that, offering a light but sad smile in return, “I can’t fail, not with you”

He squeezed your hand, the one on his jaw. As to make sure that you still were there, listening for each one of his words and the trembling on the back of his throat.

You were there.

“And you won’t” you leaned your forehead to his and he took a deep breath, breathing in all of your scents, “All I can see is you, it will always be you. Not what you see as failures or scars, bruises, cuts, or whatever, only you. You and that big heart of yours that I love so much”

While your words hit him, Matt pursed his lips and let his other hand rest where your heartbeats. Noticing his movement, you hold his wrist, “Tell me, did I lie? At any moment?”

“No” he muttered softly, “You didn’t”

“All of my fears disappear when you’re with me, Matty” you whispered, “Safe and sound. Those scars just prove to me that despite everything, you found a reason to stand up and get back home”

“It was you, you were the reason” he breathed out the words calmly, kissing the top of your head as you melt under him, “It’s always you”

“It will always be you” you repeated your words, but this time in a promise. Watching his eyes gleam at your silent confession, “Only you”

Matt's smile grew and you felt good knowing you were the one who did it.

Before he added, “Me, you and that sugary tea of yours”

Home sweet home.

“Thank you, Karen” you smile at the blondie while she helps you, leading you to your sofa after locking the door of your apartment, “It makes me feel like a fragile baby but I can deal with that”

“Well, for now, it’s technically what you’re except for the baby part” Karen comments, making fun of you, “Do you want to drink something?”

“Oh yes,” you try to adjust yourself at your sofa, getting to a position where you can look through your window, “There’s half of a bottle of bourbon on my fridge and some beers”

“And since when the doctors said that you’re allowed to drink something but water?” she snorts at you, looking at your figure lying in the living room, “Can you tell me, huh?”

“Since I’m feeling like shit and that’s since... The day one in that hospital” you point out, “So I believe that the med for this is a drink”

“And this is a yes to confiscate your alcohol until you get better, definitely” you listen to the sound of bottles clicking as Karen gathers them in a supermarket bag, “I know that you and Matt had a discussion but-”

“Who told you?” you ask, burying your head in one of your cushions. You are prepared to scream against it at any moment, it’d be better than crying, “I don’t remember telling you that”

“Besides that dark circles that are getting bigger and bigger?” the blondie ignores your muffled ‘ouch’, “Foggy told me that Matt seemed upset at the office and all the times that I visited you, you didn’t joke. And you’re the type of person who would joke even if we were in a funeral so it didn’t get me longer to me put two and two together”

Karen fills a glass of water and comes back to your side, nudging you to sit up and keep yourself hydrated properly. And even if you wanted to lie on your sofa and be there forever, you do what the blondie asks you quietly without hesitating. It’s like you want to be a pain in your friend’s ass.

“First of all, that’s not true and it upsets me that you think of me like that” you sip slowly the water, lifting one finger after another as you list, “Second: damn you, K”

“We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to” Carefully, Karen rests a hand on your back, “And I don’t know what happened between you guys, but I know that it’s not doing good to either of you”

“It- It’s...” how can you even start? Not even you understand how you and Matt are where you’re now. Not without exposing too much, “Complicated...?”

Involuntary, a sob escapes from you and you drink more water as if it would hide it away.

“When isn’t it, am I right?” Karen shakes her head, following your stare back to the view outside your window and giving you your space, “Whatever it happened, I believe that you’ll work it out. You miss each other, it’ll only be a matter of time for you two to reconcile”

“Well, he-” before Karen can justify any of Matt’s behavior, her cell phone pops out a message that she quickly declines, “Work can wait”

“I can guarantee you that he doesn’t miss me” you mutter, playing with the empty glass in hands, “If he did, he’d had visited me after that first time back at the hospital”

“No, it can’t, K” you leave your glass aside and take her hand off your back, giving her a simple smile, “I’ll be okay, you can take this bag with all my goods and go. Go to work and greet those chicks for me”

“God, if someone listened to you, they would think something else. Do you know that?” the blondie rolls her eyes while attempting to hold back a laugh. Anyway, she does as you say and grabs the bag with your bourbon plus beers, “Are you sure that you’ll be okay?”

“Absolutely” you nod, lying once again on the sofa and pulling Karen out of it, “I’ll get rid of these dark circles of mine, don’t you worry”

“And take your meds and be hydrated” Karen orders you, raising a brow at you while following to the door.

“And take my whatever and be whatever” you mockingly repeat your friend's words, looking back through your window and motioning, “Of course”

“I’ll come back after work, okay?” you mumble out an unrecognizable ‘okay’, “Take care of yourself”

“You too”

Then, it comes the click of the door and Karen isn’t here anymore. And all you can do is cry.

(...)

It's been exactly seven days since Matt cut himself out of your life.

On day one, he almost destroyed his apartment. He never felt more frustrated than in the moments after you were hit by that car. Later on, Foggy called him and asked him if he wanted to go with him to visit you but he gave an excuse and let his friend go.

However, was only at night that during his patrol, he passed through the blocks of the hospital where you were. Matt tried his best to avoid seeing you, but it all led to nothing as at the end of that day, there was him: on the top of a building on the other side of the hospital, watching you from afar.

And the same thing he did on the following days.

Ignoring any of your presence, changing topics in a conversation when someone mentioned you, not allowing himself to buy you flowers... Until, in the day, where he’d watch you during the night, reassuring himself that you were safe.

Even on the other side of the street and with many floors as well as rooms between the both of you, Matt sensed you. In fact, he believes that even if you were in the middle of Times Square at the Ball Drop, he would find you.

A part of his always knew a way to find you. Despite himself.

There was that scent of yours, every day you were in that hospital, the man in the mask couldn’t stop asking himself how you managed to keep that same scent while hospitalized. How did you always smell like cinnamon and fresh newspapers in the morning? It wasn’t like you could make your burnt cinnamon toast and read your finest newspapers in a hospital bed.

But somehow, you found a way to keep your scent wherever you were.

And it didn’t matter how far he was from you, it’d always intoxicate him as the sound of your voice does.

“You should tell them” Matt almost jumps out of his skin at the sound of Foggy’s voice at the door of his office in Nelson & Murdock.

“No, don’t you that ‘puzzled-lost-puppy-face’ when you know too well about who and what I’m talking about” Foggy points accusingly at his friend and approaches his figure, ignoring the tap of the rain against their windows.

“Tell who what?” he questions in return, tilting his head to the low sound of a drizzle starting outside the law firm.

“You aren’t talking about-” Matthew doesn’t get his chance to question, since Foggy snaps his fingers and cuts him off.

“Yes and yes” the blondie smiles smugly, crossing his arms.

“How do you know the answer if you didn’t even let me finish?” Matt rubs above his unfocused eyes, adjusting his lenses.

“Because I know that since the first day you introduced them to me and Karen, you couldn’t stop to think about them” Right on the spot, Matt sighs, “Or am I wrong?”

“I’m saying that whatever it happened when you visited them, you need to get over it and keep moving forward.” before Matt could say something, Foggy raises a finger, “You can’t confine yourself in your office and apartment hoping for them to vanish from your life or whatever”

“Depends on what you mean by it” the chestnut attorney lifts a brow to Foggy, tilting his head again and focusing all of his attention on his friend.

“I can try” Matt mutters, what makes Foggy flick his temple.

“This is different” And it is, indeed.

“No you can’t, stop it now” Foggy furrows his brows, “In whatever guilty trip you’re in- And don’t you dare tell me otherwise because both of us knows how is a guilty Matt” the man with red lenses gulps, letting his friend say what he wants to say without being interrupted, “If you think that they got hurt because you introduced them to us and that case we’re trying to work out, it isn’t. They’re a reporter, Matt, don’t you know that maybe they would have been in this type of trouble even without knowing us”

But it doesn’t mean that Foggy is wrong.

And even if Matt can’t understand this, Foggy can. Better, he does.

“Matt,” Foggy calls his attention out, “It doesn’t matter, you lov-”

“Deserve something like what?” even having a clue about what Foggy is speaking about, Matt had to ask.

“Don’t” Matt whispers, quickly popping his tongue out to wet his lips. At the same second, embarrassment clouds his senses by how fast he went to interrupt the other. It only gives more reasons to the other attorney of law, “Don’t say it”

“Okay, then let me rephrased it: they love you,” he corrects himself but it doesn't makes a difference, not to Matt. He takes a deep breath as his friend’s words sink into his mind, “And I know you feel the same way about them, so don’t you think you deserve something like this? Because I do”

“To be happy, Matt”

Does he?

After everything he did? All those times he allowed those demons to slip from his surface? Committing mistake after mistake and tainting his own soul?

Matt tilts his head back to the windows, listening to the rain growing outside.

He always ends up hurting the ones he loves most. Why it would be different with you? Or even with Foggy or Karen?

Does he really deserve this kind of happiness?

Then, the sound of your laugh fills up his head, coming along with the memory of your intoxicating scent. Matt shut his eyes, letting them all in with the tap of every drop.

So, he listened to your voice. Low, in a whisper, close to his ears. Flushing him in the memory, “We are a team, D. Sometimes, even you will need my help”

God, he remembers the way your lips turned in a smile perfectly. Your smiles are always so big and full of joy, it’s impossible for him to not notice them.

“And what type of help are you talking about, sweetie?” he asked that night, raising his brows when he felt your hand squeeze his shoulder.

“To remember that you are not alone. I won’t ever let you think for a second that you’re alone”

Because he deserves to know that, you said it that same night.

“I need to tell them”

Abruptly, Matt stands up and runs off his office, taking only his coat and his cane before heading out of Nelson & Murdock.

Foggy does his best to reach his friend before his out, without any success. Even so, the man shouts, “It’s fucking raining, Matt!”

(...)

Watching the rain outside, you are up with the help of a crutch.

For you, Hell’s Kitchen being drenched in drop after drop of rain is a beautiful sight. Maybe, it’s because of the way that the sound of the city is reduced to the rain and only the way, nothing else. Not shouting, horning sounds at the street, or rushed steps against the sidewalk...

Only the rain washing the city.

Usually, when it is raining, you’re drinking hot cocoa side by side with someone and joking about God trying to wash all of the citizen’s sins away.

Now you are here. At your apartment, alone, without hot cocoa and him. And he... Well, he is somewhere else.

You sigh against the window, seeing how the cold air mists the glass in front of you and blocks you from the sight of the city. This makes you puff at yourself but, anyways, you raise your hand to clean the misted window.

However, as you clean it, you see a glimpse of a figure climbing down the fire escape of the building on the other side of yours.

Wait, you narrow your eyes against the soaked figure.

Is that Matt?

“What the fuck-” you get your weight on your crutch and you move to the corner of your living room as quick as possible, taking your umbrella, “Matt Murdock, you stupid bastard-”

You make a point of ignoring your neighbors' comments as you hurriedly descend the floors of your building with your crutch in one hand and an umbrella in the other. It would be very difficult to explain to them that you needed to save a stubborn idiot from catching a cold.

When you go outside, already opening the umbrella to shield you from the rain, you watch Matt run at you from the other side of the street. Some of the few cars at the street horns to him but he just raises a hand to them as if apologizing.

By that, you notice that besides the cane that he carries with him, he has something else in his other hand.

It’s a bouquet.

You snickers at it, you don’t even try to hide it, “What the hell are you doing running in the rain, Matt? And with a bouquet?”

A few of the daisies in it had been soaked by the rain or turned down by the little run of Matt. But, above all, they’re beautiful for you.

“I’m sorry” he ignores your questions, hiding from the rain under your umbrella, “For everything”

“Matt, you didn’t need to do all of this, you’ll get a cold.” you shake your head, adjusting your posture on the clutch, “Let me get you in my apartment and prep a hot cocoa to you, you’re shivering”

“Wait, I need to tell it now before I give up again” Matt licks his lips and you gulp, nervous, “You were right, I can’t leave you”

“Matt-” you whisper, feeling your eyes glossing and it isn’t because of the rain.

“Sweetheart,” he passes the cane to his hand that holds the almost destroyed bouquet, to hold your face like this. Stroking your cheek with his thumb, “I’m sorry. Because as much I’m afraid of my presence hurting you, I’m more afraid to not have you by my side”

“You don’t need to do this now, Matt” you sigh, leaning into the warmth from his hand.

“Yes, I need to” he smiles sadly, his unfocused gazed on your figure, “Because I love you and it wasn’t right to hurt you in the way that I did it”

Your heart misses a beat, taken aback by his words. Only for this damn muscle on your chest to get louder and louder, defying the rain tapping against your umbrella.

By sensing that, the smile on Matt’s face turns to a grin.

“It isn’t like this forgive you either” you mutter under your breath, your voice trembles.

“I know” he mutters back. And, with a hand still placed on your face, little by little he gets close to you.

“But that doesn't undo the fact that I love you too“

With that, Matt decisively cuts the distance between the two of you, placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. The daisies, your clutch, his cane, and your umbrella are forgotten in the middle, everything but the rain. He holds your throat gently, feeling the beat of your heart under his fingers as he takes your breath out of you. Between the kiss, you smile, holding back a giggle.

When you feel the rain touching your skin, you ignore it and drop the umbrella. Using that hand to hold Matt’s face and deepen the kiss.

Damn the rain, if you were to catch a cold, that's fine.

Everything was fine now: in the rain, with Matt, as it washes the both of you.

Some hours ago, you were happy as ever.

Leaving your apartment, you greeted the doorman before hiding your hands inside your coat and venturing out into the night of Hell's Kitchen. You could feel the cold breeze stroke your cheeks as you walked through the street, following straight to the address in your head.

A few familiar faces greeted you along the way, to which you greeted back with a smile. If you from months ago looked at you now, they wouldn’t believe in how you got where you are now: a very well-known reporter, showing to the citizens from that curious city the truth that hides behind every alley.

For that, you patted yourself.

So when your cell phone started ringing and you saw whose number it was, it was impossible to hold back a giggle.

“Hey, D,” you said, looking both ways before crossing a street, “How are you tonight?”

If Matt had been beside you, he’d sense that big smile of yours.

“Oh shut up, everything is fine” you rolled your eyes and Matt puffed from the other side, “I’m just heading to the address that the Mr. Criminal of yesterday gave to me, it won’t get me long to find that information about the Mr. Big guy so we... You know, get him in jail and win-win-win!”

“Why are you smiling?” or he didn't need to be in the same place as you to know that, “For now, things are going well but why do I feel that I need to be worried?”

“Wait” like Matt always knows when you’re smiling, you always knew when his brows were furrowed, “What are you talking about? Don’t you tell me-”

“About that who must not be named? Yes,” you interrupted him, grinning, “But don’t you worry, it’ll be fast. And, in a while, I'll be where you are to take another picture of you blowing another mobster”

“Sweetheart...” from the other side of the call, he rubbed his temples behind his mask, “Is it not enough almost every night that I'm away for you to get those pictures for your articles? Now you're looking for that... That criminal? It isn’t safe”

“I can take care of myself, D” you sighed, crossing one more block and ignoring the sound of the city, “I’m a reporter and I’m friends to the Devil Boy, I know what I’m doing”

It had been two months since this alliance of yours, helping each other. You with the information and him doing “tough vigilante poses” for the photos of your articles.

You took care of each other’s backs. He worried about you, you worried about him. Usually, you patched him up and cupped his face when all he could feel was the world crashing in his shoulders — and he held you tight when you were afraid.

It was a good alliance, indeed. 

“Just-” he took a deep breath, “Just be careful, please”

“I’ll be, I promise” even if you were talking through the phone, you crossed your heart, “You won’t get rid of me so soon”

“And who said that I want to get rid of you?” he said cheeky and you snorted at him, “See you, sweetheart”

“Oh, don’t you sweetheart me” Matt laughed and you stopped on the sidewalk, leaning your back against a streetlight, “See you, D”

And that’s the last thing you remember: you turned your cell phone off, a smile never living your face, and crossed the empty street.

Or you thought that it was empty.

The next thing you knew, there was a sound of tires burning the road and a strong light blinding your eyes. And then, painful darkness.

(...)

Everything is blurry. It gets you some time for your eyes to adjust to the white light above you and the shuffling sounds around you.

As the memories from last night come in, you feel something hold your hand tight and you force your eyes to open. You recognize the hospital room where you’re resting and your company, Matt.

He looks so tired, you can’t see his eyes behind his red lenses but you know that they’re very open and with dark circles around them along with some fading bruises. You feel bad seeing him like that, even more, when you know that you’re the cause.

“You’re awake,” the man mumbles, his knuckles turning white as he holds your hand with the IV.

“What happened?” you whisper, strengthening your eyes at your body covered by a white sheet, “How I-”

Before you try to lift the sheets and see how you are, Matt stops you by holding your wrist. His fingers press your skin kindly but he is frowning, tilting his head, and hiding his fear behind his typical lenses.

“Matty” you call his name, calmly. However, you can already feel your tears gathering in your eyes, “Please, what happened?”

“A drunk driver ran you over last night” the words sounded forced out of Matt’s throat while he tries to find the strength to tell you without falling apart in front of you, “He died in the ambulance but the doctors managed to stabilize you, they said that until next week, you can go back home”

“That doesn’t make any sense”

You shake your head, trying to sit up but… Everything gets blurry again, you can feel your legs and they hurt like hell. Quickly, Matt is up and helping you to lay back again, shushing you and calming down.

“You can’t get up, sweetheart” your friend’s voice is broken, now you can tell it, “You have a lot of bruises, a broken leg, sprained knees, and ankles, two broken ribs, a concussion, and your left shoulder got out of place”

There’s no way from holding your tears any longer, you shiver by each thing that Matt listed, confused.

Why?

“The address-” Matt cuts you off.

“It was a bait, they knew you were trying to find information and that you were with me those nights. That I let you take those pictures” when you observe Matt, he seems... So angry, it’s hard for you (in your state) to point a finger at why.

Everything was going so well. At which moment did you mess up?

You’re so confused, trying to process what happened to you and why. There is that incomplete puzzle in front of you but you can't solve it.

Not without the missing pieces.

“I shouldn’t have put you in this, it was a mistake” he flinches away from you, turning his back for you, “They know that you know me and about you helping on our investigation, it isn’t safe anymore”

“What do you mean, Matt?” you try to rub your eyes, doing your best to ignore your trembling, “We can still do this”

“No,” this time, he doesn’t call you by your pet name but your name, which makes you snap your eyes at his backs, “I’ll do it, there is no we. I won’t risk seeing you getting hurt again”

“You can’t do that” you mumble, forcing the words out of you with a sob, “Not now. Not after all we have been through. Please don’t do this to me, we’re a team”

Without facing you, Matt grabs his cane leaned on a wall. If you could see him, you’d see all his brokenness.

You would see the way his eyes are glossy since the first moment that he knew about the accident. The pounding inside his head and tilting it down. His bruised knuckles from when he punched the wall from an alley due to the stammering invading each one of his thoughts.

Matt can’t lose anymore else. Especially you.

And for this to work out, he has to leave you.

Because if he stays, he won’t be able to hold himself any longer. The words will simply blurt out of him and the next thing he knows... You’ll know how much you’re important to him.

Not only you’ll know, but anyone who wants him dead.

And he won’t let that happen, “Goodbye”

It was another typical morning in Hell’s Kitchen.

"You’re late, Matt” Foggy rubbed his eyes from the other side of the line, “What happened this time?”

And, as always, Matt Murdock would be late for work.

Just like he was thinking: another usual day in his city.

“I just lost the track of time, nothing more” the attorney shook his head as he listened to his friends snorting at him, “Two blocks away and I’m there”

“When you say you lost the track of time” the blondie trailed off, narrowing his eyes while pondering, “Are we talking about you sleeping late after your regular night activities?”

“I plead the Fifth” Matt tried to joke, already sensing the annoyance coming from his friend.

“Of course, you do” Foggy rolled his eyes, “Anyways, we can talk about this later once you get in here”

“I’ll get there, don’t you worry about me” both lawyers sighed at the same time, which made Murdock’s face twitches in a smile, “Bye, you see me soon”

“Oh, please” his friend puffed at his joke, “I guess so”

Foggy ended the call and matt picked up his pace. Matt wasn't much interested in being another minute late, the firm was as important to him as it was to Foggy. He couldn't keep arriving at work late.

However, as Matt crossed the next avenue, he stiffed. 

That scent. He didn’t sense this scent for years, but as he reaches the sidewalk, it’s everywhere. It was like rain, which was weird to say but it was how Matt could describe it.

He stopped where he was, tilting his head whilst trying to understand where it came from. Rain, sweat, cookies with chocolate chips, and antiseptic. Then, it consumed all his surroundings, followed by a known and steady heartbeat.

“Thank you, sir” your voice echoed inside his head, your tone hadn’t changed at all, still smooth and slow. He remembered the times he used to tell you how you spoke word by word, it felt like centuries ago, “You can keep the change, have a good day”

It couldn’t be, he thought as he turned his face to your direction, jumping out of the cab. You were back.

Your scent, your pulse, your voice... It was all that took for him to his mind pull him back at those old days.

Years ago, you were just those two kids who were always at the Fogwell’s Gym. While your old men were doing their business, you two did each other company. You did everything together: homework, drawing, reading, watching the training, and how sweat and blood spilled out from the boxers.

It was simple days when both of you were just the Murdock’s and the Fogwell’s children. Matt could still remember, way before he lost his sight, the several times at the end of the day when your mom would come to the gym and discuss with your father about you staying at his work. How it was dangerous for a child to stay in places like that.

Every time, she forgot about Matt’s presence there but it wasn’t like you being there was exactly her point anyway.

However, everything changed when his father died. It seems like his death just made your mom’s point right, or it was the excuse that she needed to divorce Mr. Fogwell and take your custody. After that, she and you moved from Hell’s Kitchen and no one heard from you since.

At least, until you made your name in the boxing career in New Jersey. Every morning, Matt insisted to Foggy read to him the papers where your fights were mentioned, as an excuse that he needed to be updated about what was happening outside New York. He didn’t know if his friend believed it, so one month later, he started to print the papers in braille and read by himself.

He could only imagine how your mom probably was pissed about that.

When your father died and you weren’t present at his funeral, he thought that you would never come back. But, after two months since this tragedy and sensing you not even ten feet away from him, he could be wrong.

Perhaps, aware of how your mom was, he didn’t doubt that she threatened you in case you went to his funeral.

“Matt...?” okay, the vigilante underestimated the distance between you two. He didn't expect you to notice him and recognize him from first glance. It's impossible for him to not distinguish your steps from the others on the street, trying to get closer to him, “Is that you? Murdock?”

He tried to seem like he’d only have noticed you at this moment, turning around and facing you again. Knitting his brows, he muttered your name, which made a smile creep out of your teeth.

Look, he could have said that he had noticed you before but it would be hard to make it sound not weird.

"Gosh, you didn’t change a bit, you still are the same Murdock boy” your voice was full of excitement, he had forgotten about how talking to you was like talking to a sunbeam, “Can I hug you?”

Matt laughed under his breath. Yeah, he really missed you, “Sure”

You don’t hesitate before putting your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. As you buried your face in his chest and allowed yourself to sink into memories of old times. Apparently, he wasn't the only one missing those simple days.

Who looked at the scene, wouldn't think that you were a lightweight who had already won by fifteen knockouts. Much less, that you were embracing the Daredevil.

What a typical day in Hell’s Kitchen, indeed.

“Are you staying?” Matt asked, pulling away from your arms after a bat as he sensed your backpack and your other bag by your side.

“Yes, it was hard to convince my mom but I needed to” you sighed, looking around you with a grin on your face, “Home is home”

“It is,” he agreed, not even able to not reciprocate your smile, “Your mom may be cursing against the Fogwell’s name right now by what I remember for her”

You laughed with that, frenetically nodding, “I’m certain that she is, even more knowing that I came to manage his gym”

“Really? Wow, you know that she will make sure to go to his grave just to spill about how she still hates him, right?” you two laughed again, shaking heads while both of two could remember the multiple times that your mom shouted at your old man about the stupidest things.

“Well, I don’t think she could have expected something else from me since I’m a boxer” you rolled your eyes, “But she is my mom, what can I say, hm?”

“I read about your fights, it’s good to know that the gym will go into the hands of an exceptional fighter and a Fogwell” Matt heard your heartbeat increase for a moment, the heat reaching your cheeks and you looking away.

Gosh, just like the older times. It really felt like you two were kids again.

“You built a good reputation as well, Murdock” that time, Matt was who blushed, “You and your partner were who exposed this Fisk dude and his entire operation, you're getting known”

“We did what any lawyer would do” he shrugged and you snickered at him and his lack of words.

“Of course you did, Murdock” you crossed your arms, staring at him and his red lenses, “God, I missed you so much”

Matt could have retorted you about the blasphemy. But, truth must be said: God, he really missed you too.

Foggy, Foggy, Foggy... His cell phone started ringing again, drawing another smile from you. Fuck, how long had Matt been talking to you to have forgotten he needed to be at the firm?

“I’m so sorry, you seem busy,” you said sheepishly, “We can talk later if it’s better for you”

“Yes, it would be perfect” Matt nodded, it was hard to think about what to say to you when everything he could think about was three things.

Your rainy scent.

That “thump-thump, thump” of yours.

And how your voice reached for his ears and made him melt.

Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.

Oh yes, there was Foggy too. Four things.

“Yes,” he nodded again, completely stunned by your and your radiant presence.

“Okay” you tilted your head at him, holding back a laugh and taking your bag from the ground, “I will be at the gym tonight to check the place and I rented a place above it, we can continue our conversation there”

There your place or the gym? Matt couldn't say for sure which place you were referring to, but still, he nodded and mumbled a ‘fine’.

Matt was so dispersed by his own senses, all focused on your presence, he didn't even notice when you said goodbye and walked away from him. Only realizing your absence when he can no longer hear your heartbeat up close or your voice, leaving only your scent on him.

Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.

Shit, Foggy is going to kill him. But, Matt is okay if he is dying because of you and your smiles. Always so full of joy.

In one way or another, your hearts would always be in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey Foggy...” Matt innocently greeted his friend.

“What did we talk about you bringing your ass in here?”

(part 2?)

Helmut Zemo.

How to not know such a person? That man has a very long story, so long it could be turned into a soap opera.

Most of the things he’s known for have done, you weren’t even at America and people gossiped about them with you neither way. This plus your own studies about this particular person also helped you to understand his character.

What type of doctor would you be if you didn’t study every person who is somehow related to the Serpents or their friends? Certainly, a normal doctor, at the best.

Until the last year, Baron Zemo was sent to one of the safest prisons in America, being judged as a terrorist and many other fun things. Before this? He was just a Baron of a little country on another side of the ocean that was destroyed by America due to trying to rob American land, it was what the last president said in his defense. And even though after the election of a president who tried to donate to Sokovia and try to do amends… The only royal member alive didn’t accept this well.

In Baron’s defense, until this point of his story, you must say: America really sucks.

Helmut Zemo is a war strategist, so he knew how to study his enemies. He moved to London and to the nearest port where American cargo ships were located, all of this with a new identity and a will to take down everyone involved in the almost destruction of his country. And what best way to infiltrate a country and its people if not by studying them through what they commercialize, sell and buy for in the name of said country.

In the old Sokovia, he was Helmut Zemo, the future Baron. In London, he was the Swedish professor, Theo Broussard. And, once in America, he had no name but the desire to tear down the people who had done wrong to his people and family.

And, once he was caught after killing every single military member involved in Sokovia destruction and before he could reach the last president: Helmut was imprisoned, not even having the right to be imprisoned in his own land or of the privileges that his name would have by being royalty.

However, as he went to jail, all the papers in the country talked about his story as a poor man looking for justice after America destroyed his home and colonized its land. Which didn’t much help the president and the politics at the time, but it helped Zemo earn the solidarity of some American citizens.

Also, which served as something five years later, when suddenly, it was okay for Helmut to no longer be a prisoner as long as he posted all of his bails and stayed within the country. Because, as it seems, it was completely fine for America that the Baron to not be seen as a prisoner and continue as a terrorist criminal living among Americans, right?

The fuck?

Since then, he is and isn’t involved with the criminals around the country. It’s really hard to tell, Helmut became a strong politic in America and at the same time, someone who is financing the commercialization of in ports and managing the schemes present in all ports. Including the clandestine ones and hiding them under the rug.

While everybody knows it, everybody also pretends not to. Since his funding is helping the country to grow even more.

Worse: even if many of the people inside the criminal world know about the rumors of him had been the Freighter two years ago, the person in charge of the Port — the group that helps criminals use every port in America without being stopped by the law for a good price.

But, from what you heard the last time you checked the group (when with “check”, you mean beat their asses) if he was the Freighter, he isn’t anymore but is trying to become again. As much as the Freighter identity remains a secret, the people who want to become him aren’t a secret. Not when they are funding ports and commercialization more than usually, growing among the politics and the criminals at the same time.

Helmut had done this before, at the moment he was out of the prison. And for the last months, he’s been doing it again.

You have zero ideas about how it works to become the next Freighter. If there’s an election or some kind of duel between the candidate and the current one. But there is a way and Helmut Zemo is in his way to become one.

“Wait, come again-” Matt interrupts your train of thoughts, his brows are furrowed as you walk side by side and talk in whispers, “Did you know him?”

Did you? Sincerely, the more you wonder about it, the more you doubt it.

“After everything we’ve been discussing since the Josie’s until now, that’s your question? And here was me thinking that you’d explain what is his relation to the Serpents’ spots” you puff, looking up.

You only knew his persona when face to face, not the Baron.

You know the person he needed to be to collect information and keep with his mission. What you know about the Baron, it was through your own research, he never acted as the Baron around you. You could know about his true identity and have your assumptions about what he wanted, but he didn’t know that.

Either way, why does it matter?

“You didn’t answer my question” Matt ignores your complaining and points out your attempt to change the subject, “Did you?”

“Fine, yes. Yes, I knew him” you blurb out, feeling the memories about those old days sinking in instead of being buried away from you, “I attended some of his classes lectures at the time he was in London, I knew who he was and the connections his family had with the Serpents. Sokovia wanted to fund their project before America took their land, so I investigated him and if he still had any contact with the Serpents”

You were already a good strategist by yourself, your family helped you to become one. You’re a logical person since birth, they’d say. But, in some kind of way, “Professor Broussard’s classes” helped you to be a lot better at analyzing and studying facts before they come to a clear view.

And, for your luck or not, Professor Broussard was one of the few professors in  London who allowed “women” to attend his lectures. So, why not seize the opportunity? It was two birds with one stone.

So why doesn’t feel simple as how you want it to sound? It should be.

The attorney tilts his head, processing this information for a second, it makes sense. It isn’t like he hoped for something different from that coming from you.

“And? What did you discover?” he questions you again.

“He hates them,” you say simply, shrugging, “They were the ones who sold the information about Sokovia trying to help groups of native Americans to conquer back their lands by offering them resources in exchange for deals”

“The Serpents gave Sokovians up to do a better deal with American politicians” Matt concludes and you nod, confirming, “That explains a lot, way more than I expected”

“May you share it with the class, Mr. Murdock?” you narrow your eyes at him, waiting for a direct answer instead of a ‘lick lips, press them and say something that adds nothing to the subject’ coming from him.

As if in cue, he does almost exactly what you thought. The attorney of law shakes his head, licks his lips, and presses them in a thin line before answering you. But, this time, he gives you the answer you need.

“If the rumors about the Baron had been the Freighter some time ago are true, that’s mean that maybe his hatred towards the Serpents could have been the reason for him being replaced or lost his title” Slowly, Matt explains and you analyze his words.

“We don’t know that” you mutter, glancing at the lawyer and ignoring how to think about your ex-professor in this scenario makes you nervous, “Not for sure”

In some way, you already know where this explanation will be leaded. And you don’t like that.

Not at all.

“If it wasn’t the main reason, it was one of the reasons” the vigilante mutters back, resting his lenses to the tip of his nose so you can see his unfocused honey eyes, “If that’s the case, he is trying to gain back the gang respect back and by that... You already know what it may mean.”

Perhaps, that’s the first time you don’t want to know, that you've already deducted. Truly.

“He’ll let his anger towards the Serpents aside in exchange for the power that is the Freighter gives him” you ponder out loud our thoughts, only to Matt hear it, “He could give them new connections, so they can contact their clients in safe ways. Also, easy up the way of their products, how they arrive and how they left from their spots, without even being noticed. It’d be a lot harder to find them”

The red vigilante fixes his lenses back, knowing too well that you’re not wrong to assume this. It is all good bad possibilities. From what you know about Zemo’s hunger for power since his country’s downfall, it isn’t wrong to think he’d do anything to become the Freighter.

Even forgive his arch-nemesis.

“Or” listening to the pounding of your heart, Matt tries to soothe you, “He will try to gain the Serpents’ trust to pull the wool over their eyes later”

“It’s a possibility” you mumble, looking away from the man who is more guiding you than you to him.

“Indeed” Matt nods, smiling to himself when your heart gets a steady beat again.

It isn’t the first time he listens to your heart getting so loud inside your chest. From the moment you saved him to all the times you talked about the Serpents, your heart would get erratic, blind by anger and fury.

They clearly did something to you. Affect you in some twisted way, turning you to be who you’re today. This confidence facade you carry with you and which he sensed since the first instant.

He doesn’t want to say it or even think about it in particular, but it reminds him of himself. Of how he was like years ago, all the times he wished that killing was the only way possible so he could feel less guilty.

Roscoe Sweeney, The Hand, Fisk...

Killing them and any other corrupted so wouldn’t give him peace. It took Matt a long time to understand that.

If it wasn’t for his friends and allies, he’d had been lost a long time ago.

So yes, for the best or worst, he recognizes the anger that fills your heart every time you think about the Serpents.

However, now? It’s different, somehow. Your heart was pounding for a different reason than before, it isn’t only because of what the Serpents had done to you.

But the Baron.

Nervousness? Sadness? Fear? Grievance?

He can’t put a finger right into it and, also, he doesn’t want to make assumptions.

You already don’t like when he’s direct when speaking about your issues, what you refer to as him being a ‘flannel mouth’. So, he doesn’t want you to try to get rid of him again.

“Anyway” you look around, quietly trying to figure out where exactly Matt is leading you, “Why did that hanged guy tell you about Zemo? He just wanted to warn you or something?”

“Probably, but that wasn’t the only reason” Matt... Wait, he sniffed the air? You try to ignore this thought. No, he did not, “He told me that the Baron will be in Hell’s Kitchen tomorrow, apparently because of the Port of Hudson River. It used to be where most of the traffic happened, maybe he'll promise the old dealers resources to boost their illegal business around here again. In addition, the Serpents are present in Hell’s Kitchen as well. Two birds”

You complete in your mind, “with a stone”, thinking about it carefully.

“It makes sense” you nod. Sadly, your conscience makes sure to point it out and you shake it off, “But how? He will gather them all in a corner and then, ta-da?“

“Well, you aren’t too far from the truth” Matt smirks, “Rumors say that early tomorrow morning, the most famous or important people in town will receive an invitation to a charity ball organized by the so-called Baron Zemo”

Oh? Oh...

Matt can swear he can hear the wheels inside your head spinning and running at full throttle, at the same speed as you reason each piece of information. Connecting each dot to the other and analyzing everything in a big picture.

As every time you seem to be analyzing something, you are quiet but humming to yourself. Mumbling under your breath disconnected words that only make sense inside your head and your breathing slow down.

It feels like you’re sleeping while your head is working non-stop.

If you had been assigned as a male when you were born, Matt is full of sure that you’d be a known doctor – and not for your fight skills, but your quick thinking.

“Which means that you and your fellow’s attorneys will be invited, your firm is becoming known because of Fisk. It’d be wise to have you guys by his side” you say quickly what is on your mind, almost running over yourself while still wondering, “It is the best move to do”

“For sure” Turning a corner, Matt states and gets his cane under his arm. As if you’re close to where you’re heading to, “The Baron doesn’t want to be the next criminal boss to be taken down by us, even if he is protected by a lot of politicians”

“What can we say? Zemo is a strategist, he knows what he is doing” you roll your eyes, “Anyway, why would I be interested in this ball? Do you think that the Serpents will be there?”

“Probably one or two but that’s not the point” you frown at his words, when you take a look at his face, you see a smug growth in his features.

You were wrong, he really ‘licked lips, pressed lips in a thin line and add nothing to the subject The Serpents’ you until now. Damn catholic boy.

“Go straight to the point, Devil” your voice is a grunt, holding together every patience that you have.

“The criminal that I mentioned before said that a list would be given to the Baron during his ball,” Matt says, calmly, ignoring your temper and slowly walking, “A gift from the Serpents themselves, a list with all their addresses. Where are their labs, their aces in the hole, their main location, everything on date”

You stop on your tracks immediately, forcing the other vigilante to stop as well.

“...All?” that must be a joke.

“Yes, all” the lawyer nods, his chestnut strands falling in front of his gaze. Not that it made a difference to him anyway, but it bothered you, “If our theories are correct, it may be an agreement of peace between them”

“And all of this during the baron’s charity ball that it’ll be happening...?” your piercing stare lingers in the hair hanging in his face, you have to control your urge to brush it off of his sightless sight, “Do we have an exact date?”

“No,” he tilts his head, parting his focus between guiding you both to the familiar place he knows by the back of his hand and the weight of your eyes over him, “I would give from three to four or five days? The baron can’t be here for too long or he will call the kind of attention that his people don’t appreciate”

“Which is...” you already know but, either way, you want to listen to it coming from the red guy’s mouth.

“... Unpleasant scrutinizing” the 'vigilante by night and attorney by day' states, clearly referring to the way your gaze is upon his unfocused one.

It isn't like you care about it, not at all.

“Hm”, you hum, silently mocking him, “You have a few strands of hair in front of your eyes”

Matt shrugs, fixing his dark lenses one more time as if in a tic, “I know”

You raise a brow at him, this man is certainly a joke. Now you’re sure of it.

“It bothers,” you say it again, expecting for him to understand what you mean, “It makes people look and hope for you to fix it, even when you’re legally blind”

“And what if is that what I want?” he whispers and you fail to notice the little trap he settled among every syllable that he spoke.

“People’s attention?” you snort, facing away from him and recognizing some of the business around you in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Yours.”

Matt grins and you hate it, even more, when he does take his hair out of his eyes but it isn’t enough to bring your attention back to him. And... Jesus Christ, you don’t even know how to react.

This is the same man that you sadly had to save a few days ago. The one that is testing your patience by not agreeing with your particular mission. The vigilante that you put to sleep so it couldn’t annoy you any longer or truly changed your mind about what you have to do.

The man who surprisingly appeared in the Church where you were confessing, as always, willing to get in a good place with you.

“Then I’d say you’re both a delusional and painful soul,” you tsk, shaking your head. Trying to shake your thoughts away from you.

You don’t know if you prefer to think about your past related to the Baron or the vigilante by your side.

“Why?” he knows the question, but as you did before, he wants you to say it out loud.

“You know why” however, you wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t say that treating your attention as something fulfilling is stupid. Because you two know too well how no good you are. You don’t need to say it loud when both of you are aware of this, that believing there’s hope and something good in you is both delusional and painful when it's nothing more than a white lie to yourself.

The attorney lifts his chin to the sky, hiding his smugly smile from you. Of course, he expected that kind of answer coming from you

“We are here,” he abruptly stops his steps and points with his cane to the direction of the place he has been leading him and you.

The first thing you see is the sign above the front door: Nelson, Murdock & Page. So here is the famous law firm, it looks better than what you had heard about.

It is... Cozy, to say the least. A little and simple building, with a low rooftop and few steps that leads to the front door and the big name of their law firm. Woods’s painted white covers the walls outside and contrasts with the red flowers that decorate and try to enchant the place.

You can’t truly see the inside but from its area and height, you can guess that it has the necessary. Two officers or less, an interrogatory room, an entrance, and a little more, what an attorney and agent of the justice need to help their town and their people.

“Again, why are we here?” you cross your arms, not taking your eyes out of the place.

“It’s the safest place for me to answer whatever questions you have about me, remember? That’s our deal, right? For me to explain to you about my skills?” you slowly nod, but as you remember his blindness and his silence lingering for a couple of seconds, you mumble a simple ‘yes’, “So we talk about it here, plus a plan to go this ball and get the addresses in that list”

“It makes sense,” you nod in agreement, “But I don’t see how I will get invited, the name I used in London was different and Helm- the baron doesn’t even know about me or me being here, what would make me go to that ball?”

“Easy,” he smiles, gesturing for you to go ahead to the firm, he would go after you, “You’ll be my plus one”

“Oh that turns the situation a lot better,” you roll your eyes, stepping the few steps to the porch and turning your face back to the red man following you closely, “Really”

“I’m happy to hear it” the lawyer smiles again, ignoring your sarcastic tone and placing his hand on your back, “Before we go in, I’m sensing my friend in there so don’t overreact since I didn’t know he was here”

He doesn’t wait for your answer as he forces you in.

“Wait, the fuck?” you question, trying to understand what he truly meant.

Sensing? Friend? Overreact? As if you’re a dramatic person, the only thing you could do a drama about all of this is with what he means with ‘sensing’. Who says anything using that specific word?

As you first step inside the place officially, you analyze the light walls and how the floor clicks every step of yours, leading you to the entrance room. Where some chairs are left in the corner in case of visits and clients, and the secretary’s table is located in the center. Supposedly, where should be empty except for the many papers and folders on it.

However, there is a man. You recognize him as the one who is always showing his face in the papers every time their firm is mentioned. A blondie who is close to his early thirties, his hair reaches his shoulders and falls gracefully over them. The dark beard growing on his face fits with his white skin and his dark brown eyes.

Like Matt, the blonde man with a sarcastic grin is well dressed, a very truly attorney of the law ready for the service. With suit and a top hat in his head, just waiting for their next client.

You know his name. Again, you read the papers, and his face was always there anytime this firm was mentioned in an article. Franklin Nelson, co-founder of the law firm along with Mur-damn-dock and Page.

“I would thank God you’re alive but I’m feeling willing to choke the life out of you myself,” before Matt step inside, standing beside you and almost hiding in your shadow, the blondie is already firing at him.

“We had talked already about the blasph-” the chestnut man with his dark lenses try his way out of this discussion, smiling sheepishly and censoring his partner.

However, Foggy cuts him right away and doesn’t give him the chance. “Don’t you dare talk me out of this, what had we talked about getting your head in reckless shit?”

“I like him” you mutter from where you are, taking this opportunity to walk away from this discussion. You make yourself in-home, seating in one of their chairs and interweaving your gaze between the two lawyers.

The red vigilante turned his head back to where you’re sitting now, as who says ‘really, huh?’

Despite that, the blonde attorney doesn’t seem to notice your presence. Focusing all his rage on the poor blind man. Poor like shit, you add in your head.

“I know what we talked about it, as I know that I didn’t do something reckless for us to be discussing” Matt places his hands at his hips, “And what you’re doing at work? It’s Sunday afternoon, I told you I’d be fine”

“And do you think I would believe you? After years of knowing you and your stubbornness,” the blonde imitates the other gesture, watching them feels like watching two temperamental mothers arguing. Which, honestly, makes everything more fun to you, “Explain to me why I wouldn’t worry about you facing the same man that tortured the last criminals we arrested?”

You try your best to hide your smile, even knowing that the Murdock can’t see it. Nonetheless, you turn your face to him and slightly lift your chin, waiting for an explanation too — different from his friend, you wouldn’t choke the life out of him depending on his answer, at least, not this time.

There is entertaining in seeing that the vigilante’s friend, an ideal civil, is worried about him meeting with you. “A man”, you mentally scoff. Because he isn’t wrong to be worried about it in particular, you really wished to kick his ass at the Church and send him straight to an empty grave.

However, God is a great sucker.

Bless the blondie and bless you, because as you are seeing, you need the patience to deal with the Devil indeed.

“Because they saved my life?” The man bows his head, sliding his lenses through the bridge of his nose, “You don’t save the life of someone you want dead”

Well, now you kind of does. But you are keeping your mouth shut, appreciating the fact that the blondie still doesn’t notice you in the room.

“This is not a great answer, you know?” the blonde lawyer casts skeptical eyes at his partner, taking his hat off and leaving it on the table where he is seating, “I’m your friend, and sometimes you make me want to kill you, I could tell that Karen feels the same”

“Ouch” Murdock mutters under his breath, resting his hand on his chest, taken aback by his friend’s statement.

You glance at the lawyer again, stopping your gaze at the annoying one with the red tie. 

“You told me to not overreact but I guess that you should have told that to yourself,” you whisper, loud enough to anyone to hear.

The blonde guy included.

“And I’m sorry, who are you?” he gestures in your direction, peacefully seating and watching them discussing. Finally, processing your presence between them, “I wasn’t expecting my partner to face death in the morning, come here — alive — and with a client in a freaking Sunday”

Matt can’t take this situation any longer, he only sighs and rubs his temples, tired. If the vigilante attorney had ‘sensed’ his friend’s presence before you two stepped in their firm, he shouldn’t be so surprised by his partner treating him as if he is stupid. But he is surprised and tired.

And you can't be more pleased. If you didn't know any better, you'd have already cackled in front of them but you can already feel how the unfocused honey brown eyes would burn holes in your head.

“I’m not a client-”

“They aren’t a client-”

You and Matt say at the same time, running over each other’s sentences.

The blonde glares the both of you, intrigued. “Then...?”

There is silence as the wheels inside Nelson’s mind start to spin, working and connecting the dots quickly. After all, he's a lawyer, he knows how to put together facts and come up with logical conclusions.

Except that Foggy doesn’t like that conclusion, at all. Doesn’t think it’s logical either.

But since when something related to Matt Murdock and his night activities is logical?

“You!” he turns his face entirely in your direction, his tone and finger-pointing at you accusatory.

One more time, Matt sighs, hiding his face in his hands as he thinks through it all.

His friend sounds like if he’ll do true about his words. Nelson will choke the life out of him after today.

You only grin, like the blonde, you aren’t happy with this situation.

There are two known words caught in Nelson’s throat: the Doctor. He can’t say that, he can’t state such a thing. If he says it, it will prove that he is right.

And God forbid if he is right about who you are.

“Sydney,” you get up and slightly bow, avoiding shaking his hand, “You can call me Sydney, or Syd, it doesn’t really matter”

It doesn’t matter because it isn’t your true name, Matt thinks over, slowly inclining his head. He doesn’t need to focus on the heartbeats in this room to know that he is screwed.

And you aren’t helping.

“We are working together in a... A parallel case, the one I mentioned some days ago” Matt taps his cane as he speaks, bringing your attention back to him along with his partner’s, “Like I said, you shouldn’t have worried about me, Foggy”

“Foggy?” your question is ignored by Matt’s wave of a hand and Foggy’s glaring.

“Sydney, huh” the blonde crosses his arms, not taking his eyes off of your or Matt for a second, “I imagine that this kind of case requests for medicine skills”

“Depends on how people are willing to almost die in front of me or how much God wants to test my temper,” you say is simply, shrugging it off.

Your answer doesn’t seem to please Matt. Much less, the other attorney in front of you.

Matthew shakes his head, turning his attention back to his friend, “I have a good explanation”

“You better,” Foggy turns his finger from you to Matt, narrowing his eyes and glaring daggers at his partner and his pouting face, “You with me. Now. My office”

Noticing that the blonde is referring to him, Matt tilts his head, resting his cane under his arm. From where you are, he looks like a lost puppy that is about to be lectured by his owner.

“Your office?” he asks in an octave tone, gesturing to your direction behind him, “And them?”

“Yes, they can wait” Foggy nods overly, already walking to his office without the wait for Matt response, “I hope you are still here when we back, Sydney”

“Cope, Mr. Nelson” you agree, sitting back to your chair and giving them a last smile before they’re are lost from your sight.

Matt feels Foggy’s heart pounding in his chest with stress. It’s no surprise that Foggy doesn’t appreciate the situations where his friend’s vigilante life is sinking in dangerous shit. The chestnut attorney senses his partner’s anger towards him but, also, his worrying as he opens the door to his office.

After years, isn’t like it get easy to not worry about his friend’s life.

“The Doctor? Serious?” Foggy’s voice wakes Matt from his thoughts while he is shoved into the office, “You brought her to our firm on a sacred Sunday?”

“I brought them, yes” Matt corrects him, clapping his hands in front of him, “I need their help, they need my help. I need them not to kill the Serpents, and they need by his side if they want a chance to reach the Serpents in less than a month”

“Oh sorry,” Foggy raises his hands exasperatedly, “Easy peasy, I hadn’t noticed how you have everything perfectly planned”

“Yeah, I have” The vigilante doesn’t hesitate as he agrees, shaking his head up and down.

“You can’t be serious, Matt” the blonde rolls his eyes, rubbing his forehead, “Serious, what the fuck? I thought we would deal with these biological weapons projects and those scientists with the right way, the legal one. No teaming-up with the person that you said is famous among the criminals for wanting every one of these crazy scientists and gang fucking dead.”

“We had a conversation, I was very clear about the not killing part,” Matt rests his backs against the door, pretending not to feel his friend urge to punch his face, “We will still do this in our way, they know the Serpents better than us, they even know much more about the Baron and many other big people”

“So everything is good, sure sure” Foggy shakes his head, spiling sarcasm in each word, “A vigilante that knows criminals and with a full punisher spirit that won’t kill just because you told them so”

“The Serpents did something to them, affect them deep down in some way that makes them think they must kill every single one of them. I know that” Matt mutters, gesturing all the time, “There’s good in them, they have morals and I can help lead them away from this path of killing”

“Matt, stop. God, please, stop” Foggy brings his hands together and takes a deep breath, cutting Matt before he can continue with his speech, “I will only say it once, it isn’t your job to guide every vigilante you identify yourself with, to lead them into a path of good vigilante. I told you to let this situation with the Doctor slide away and just keep with our plan, and what do you do?”

It is a rhetorical question but, even so, Matt looks willing to answer. To which Foggy only nods to himself and doesn’t let his friend speak.

“You bring them to our plans, I imagine you told them about the Baron if you know that they know some shit bout this guy,” Matt’s quietness and eyes avoiding the blonde’s frame is enough to Nelson, “Yeah, I imagined, you’re too predictable. What makes you think that they won’t trick you, us, and keep the Serpents and its projects so they can destroy every trace of vipers? Huh? Please, enlighten me”

Matthew licks his lips, hanging his head taking a couple of seconds in silence until Foggy’s heart gets a more steady beating. Leaving his cane to rest against the door, he approaches his friend, fixing his lenses quickly.

“Because if they were a person that kills, they would have killed every one of the criminals we imprisoned before. And they didn’t, because they can’t.” the attorney speaks carefully, listening closely to the blonde’s breathing calming down, “They a doctor, they save lives, not take them. As every good human, they have doubts, and you know what they say about who doubts”

Foggy sighs, hating to know how his friends are right. The blonde forces his words out, completing the reasoning, “They are lost”

You sit in the damn chair, looking around until you feel the pearl white of the walls burning your eyes. In no world you had ever imagined that you’d be in a situation like that, there is a reason why you never worked with someone else. But it isn’t like you have much of a choice.

You need to get to Helmut’s ball, whether you like it or not. He doesn’t know that you are in Hell’s Kitchen, much less that you knew about his true identity since London. And, if it depends on you, he will never know. So, there is no chance of the baron inviting you to the ball, which means that you need to be someone plus one.

Matt’s plus one, in that case.

That also means that you need the vigilante by your side, it doesn’t matter if you like the idea or not. You’re stuck with him and him with you.

Perhaps, there is a reason after all for the Devil had fallen from heaven. Nobody up there had the patience it required to be by his side.

If back in London, you thought that to be in the same room with the Baron could be challenging, the red guy is a perfect opponent. Both of them giving their best to force you to kick them out of your life.

But, as you see now, they always come back. Helmut is a good example.

“Ya’re overthinking again, kiddo” a hand rests in your shoulder, weighing you down like lead and sinking you into the chair. Daring it not to buckle under the pressure of your body, “Remember what Pop always said-”

“-One thought at a time,” you complete the familiar sentence, listening to your father’s voice behind your head along with the one beside you, “I’m doing it, I’m focused”

“No, ya’re not” he sits in the chair near you, gripping the crucifix hanging by his neck with a bloody fist, “Ya’re hesitating”

“Hesitating to do what?” you question, puzzled, glancing at the old grumpy guy, “I’m only seating down, waiting for the next step. Nothing happens out of sudden”

“I am not talking about it,” he shakes his head, a disapproval look lingers in his stare and he points to your forehead, “I am talking about it, ya’re doubting. Even more since your confession”

“That’s not true” you flinch from his cold touch, "I know what I have to do, it’s not a deal that will stop me. You know that”

He flicks your forehead, earning a puff from you. However, Benjamin just offers a sad smile back to you, “Do you? Do you really know?”

You sigh, your back falls into the chair and you rub your eyes. But you can’t take back the tears that sprinkle in the corners of your eyes or the sobbing caught in your chest.

“They destroyed my life, yours... Of everyone I cared about and loved,” you hide your face in the palms of your hands, “And even so, I'll be strong enough to cross that red line, Benny"

“Ya’re not doubting ya strength” Benny puffs, glancing at you, “Different from that coward, Zemo, ya’re not thinking about giving up for power. But because ya’re afraid”

“I’m not” you look at your brother.

“Yes, ya are” he grits his teeth, impatient with your denial, “My little sibling is a coward?”

“No,” you take a deep breath, biting your cheeks, “I’m a doctor”

“And what it's up to you to do? as one of us?“ his crucifix sparkles beneath your gaze.

“I’ll cut the head off the snake” you whisper, more to yourself than to your brother’s ghost, “Without hesitation”

Without any doubt.

But how?