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It was 9:17 at night. The fumes of stress and exhaustion were hanging deep in Karen's bones.
The sun had set 30 minutes prior, and she was knocking on his door 30 minutes after she'd planned to. Personal visiting hours of one Matthew Murdock have been always wonky--it wasn’t as if they made a schedule of these visits. Rather, wasn’t as if she made a schedule. After all, they see each other for more than 10 hours every weekday, and these check-ins were for her and Foggy’s reassurance more than anything else.
She waited a few seconds, listening to the hollow thuds echo back to her; willing for him to still be here and not off, already flying from rooftops to alleyways. Then she tried the door, a faint worry in her mind and weight of the apartment key heavy in her pocket. It opened, revealing a floor pooling with fluorescent purples, shadows clinging to corners, and a looming, empty dresser in a forlorn bedroom.
The apartment was void of life.
She sighed, closed her eyes for a second, then quickly climbed the stairs to her last resort of the night. She grabbed the handle of the door, then hesitated, surprised at how forceful the hopeful beat in her chest was--at how she wished that she wasn't too late and wanted to see his face before it became a new model of bruises and cuts. She took a moment to center herself--suppress the strength of that hope--before opening the door.
A familiar setting appeared before her, and a somewhat relieved smile painted across her face as a cool breeze shifted her hair from her shoulder to her back.
“Hey, Karen,” she heard as she stepped through the roof access. The dark, light-filled NYC night greeted her, as did the pensive, lone man dressed in black, who stood comfortably on the ledge of his building. He turned towards her, his eyes unfocused but his smile warm. “Do you need something?” he asked. His hand came down to his side, grasping a piece of thick black fabric.
Karen bit the inside of her lip, staring at his face. Taking in his features--no doubt like how he was hearing her heartbeat.
“No.”
She took a step forward so the door could close without hitting her.
He cocked his head towards her.“Do you want something?” he asked slyly, his smile becoming a smirk.
“Not particularly,” she responded in the same playful tone.
He laughed, turning away while nodding, and she began to stroll ever so slowly to where he stood.
“Veerry mysterious,” he drawled.
She shrugged, her arms crossed. “Not really.”
She arrived to the ledge, shivering slightly against the windchill. Matt went into a crouch, making them eye-level. Mostly.
“Hey,” she said conversationally, just as he opened his mouth to speak, “you going out tonight?”
“Uh.” His smile began to fade as he sniffed. “Yeah.” Trouble, his Devil-sense must be telling him. “I was just about to.”
“Yeah,” she hummed easily, resting her elbows against the cold cement ledge. “You… have court tomorrow morning.”
He exhaled, his head arching away from her. “Yeah, I know Karen--”
“Yet you’re still going out?”
“Hey--”
He made out like he was going for her hand, but stopped short, instead resting his fingers against the ledge as his knee went down.
Matt did that a lot these days--going out of his way to avoid touching either her or Foggy. Even more so than before--before Midland Circle.
It was yet another reminder of the past.
“--I’ve looked at my notes. I know the case inside and out. I’m prepared to--”
“Foggy isn’t doing opening statements this time--”
“Hey,” he said, a little desperation in his voice, “I’m not going to fail Mrs. Lee and her husband. I’m not going to fail my firm. I-- I won’t fail them, Foggy, or you--”
“Matt, it’s not about that--”
“I’ve learned, Karen,” he said, leaning towards her. He was so far off his center that she wanted to reach out and grab him so that he didn’t fall off the goddamn roof. “I won’t let him get in the way of my normal life. I can do this,” he said, his eyes wide and searching. “I can manage it. I won’t-- I won’t let the Castle trial happen again.”
She winced at that. He faltered as she breathed out, the guilt starting to edge into his features.
“I won’t ever let that happen again,” he promised, standing--leaning towards the empty air and the yawning street. He shook his head. “Never.”
Karen sighed, rubbing her face. “You can afford to take a night off, Matt. You’re not damned for having other obligations--”
“I already took two nights off.”
She straightened, observing him more carefully now, watching the way he rocked his weight forwards and backwards on the balls of his feet.
“You did?”
“We were cramming for the audit…” Forwards and backwards “...and I, um, got a concussion.” Forwards and backwards. “I was stupid-- I let some heavyweight smash my head into a wall.”
Well, that definitely explained the hit to their communal aspirin bottle at the office. And the amount of times she caught him with his head in his hands.
“It was screwing with my senses. It was… hard... to walk sometimes.” Matt exhaled sharply, as if saying the statement was harder than silently enduring the pain. A few seconds past before softly added, “It’s gone now.”
Karen felt her mouth open and shut a few times.
The way he’d been acting today, she wasn’t sure she believed him.
“You didn’t say anything,” she tried.
“It didn’t matter.”
She grimaced, looking away. Her nails scraped lightly against the cement until she made a decision. Karen gripped the side of the ledge as she put one heeled foot onto it, cautiously distributing her weight before doing the same with her other foot. She waved Matt off as she stood up, a slight chill from the breeze or fear making her subconscious panic slightly.
“It matters,” she stated in kind, focusing specifically on the face in front of her instead of the six stories of empty space between her in the ground. “Even if you don’t give a crap about your mental and physical condition, we do. Foggy and I do, because we care about you.” She grit her teeth when nothing but a perplexed look crossed his features. “It matters to us, Matt--Hell, it matters to your clients too. Do you know how many times Reggie asks if someone beats the shit out of you?” She expected a laugh, but only got him turning his head away. “He is willing and ready to throw down for you.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“Jesus, don’t talk about what should and shouldn’t be. The world doesn’t operate like that--our world doesn’t operate like that.”
She stared at him until she couldn’t anymore and switched to looking down--down, down, down, into the moving chaos of the street. Her stomach was doing fearful flips to warn her but she ignored it. “We can only try to make it fairer,” she whispered after a moment. “We can only try to make it just.”
“Yeah,” he finally said, his head tilted down like hers.
They agreed, but they were talking about two entirely different things. One of them was something Matt would never be able to get through his thick skull. The other, Karen now knew, after all that has happened, was something she would never be able to fully comprehend.
But… the least they could do is try.
She looked back up at him, her eyebrows creased in concern. Then, she made another choice, taking a step closer to him, minding the thin edge they stood on. Another halting step brought her closer to him before she brought her hand up to move some of his hair out of face. He’d let the ends grow a little longer than usual--there was no doubt that he’d get it cut sometime in the near future. It didn’t look bad though; the ends were redder, and it highlighted his features more. At least, they did when they weren’t covering his eyes.
The hazel pools flicked around at her face, surprised by the gesture and the proximity.
“Come back early tonight, okay?” she murmured. The eyes rolled, and he moved to turn his head away, but that same hand caught his cheek, holding it firmly in place. She was reminded of a deer in headlights as she watched his entire body stiffen. “Even if all you get are cuts and bruises, sleep is important, Matt. Your body needs it. Your mind needs it.”
She felt him sigh as he closed his eyes in acceptance. The low murmur of the wind didn’t allow her to hear it; she felt it against her palm instead.
“Maybe I should get the old suit back.”
“2 o’clock, Murdock,” she ordered, hoping the point didn’t go completely over his head. “I don’t care if that isn’t the way it works in your line of work--your shift ends at 2.”
He laughed, and she felt him lean into her hand ever so slightly.
“Will you be there?”
She felt her heart lurch in surprise.
Matt swallowed, now aware that he crossed a line of some sort. “To keep me honest, I mean--” he followed up hastily.
She blinked a few times before looking away. Her hand slipped from his cheek and dropped to her side.
“No,” she stated, watching his face fall a little. Her heart fell with it. “I’m not as stubborn as you are--”
“I strongly doubt that.”
“Yeah, well,” she laughed, “I pulled something damn close to an all-nighter two days ago and I’m still recovering.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know how you do it. Going without sleep.”
He was silent for a few seconds. He blinked before saying, a little dejectedly, “I just hope for the best.”
The silence extended for a while after that, with Karen standing there, holding her arms close to her chest to guard against the chill while Matt fidgeted with the cloth in his hand. She felt an almost nervous, jittery energy emanating from him as she watched him bounce on the balls of his feet. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.
She found herself locked in that same mental precipice; she felt the strong urge to say something--anything--that conveyed the way that she felt. Anything to break up the silence between them. To clarify this swirling mess that connected them. Anything that said that, yes, maybe she lied before when she said she forgave him about being a complete asshole--maybe she only realized that the words weren’t true once they left her lips. Yes, she would probably damn the things that he would do to her and Foggy as he went out on this endless and, quite frankly, futile crusade against crime.
But those things didn’t keep her from seeing how profound his place in this was--how inspiring he was to everyone else in New York after the world went to shit. It didn’t keep her from seeing how life-changing he was to her after he saved her from death and from prison and from being just some meek, petrified nothing with only a pretty face and a desk qualification to get her by.
Despite everything that’s happened between them--all of the chaos and hurt between him and her and Foggy--Karen knew that she owed him. She owed Daredevil for saving her life. She owed Matthew Murdock for helping her find herself when she was lost--even if she couldn't say that out loud. She owed both of them another chance, whether or not the man felt remorse for what he’s done--and he did feel remorse. Excessively. Religiously. He was ashamed by all of the bloodshed and cringe-worthy deceit; the walls he’s built stink of self-condemnation, and he’s wallowed within them because he thinks that hurting the few people--the few friends he has made him irredeemable.
He lied to her and he made his best friend lie to her--but, Jesus, it near breaks her heart to see that he believes he should be alone by virtue of who he is and what he’s done. Especially when she wants to help him--she wants to help him move past it; to become better than he was. She wants Matt to become a part of their lives again--to become a part of her life again. She treasured the moments that they were together--those moments when he let her see through the cracks in his shell. She’s seen how amazing and flawed this complicated, emotional mess of a man is. She’s seen that he saw something in her that he cared about--something that had nothing to do with her hair or her ‘big blue eyes.’ Something that he trusted--beyond all of her dumb, rash mistakes. Something she could hope for.
Maybe they couldn’t get back to they way they were before. Maybe that wasn’t possible.
But maybe… maybe that was okay.
Maybe--just maybe--they could go beyond that.
Maybe they could build something new out of the broken pieces.
That…
That right there…
That was a dangerous thought.
But Karen wasn’t one for backing down when she wanted something.
Not now--not anymore.
Matt sighed as a horn blared beneath them. He blinked slowly. “I’ll try, Karen,” he murmured, before pulling his mask over his eyes.
“Hey, I can come to your apartment at 8,” she said carefully, worried about the state of his head. “That will give you a good six hours, right? We can go over your notes--”
“Sounds good,” he said shortly as he tied the fabric around his head.
She read him in that moment--she could do it oh so easily after her talks with Sister Maggie.
His shortness revealed how he felt.
It revealed that he was hurt.
Aw, Matt.
Don’t be hurt.
Don’t think about it that way.
Please.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
I’m not pushing you away, Matt.
He hopped once, landing with a soft, dull clunk as he turned away.
I’m not shutting the door on you.
“Go sleep.”
Don’t go out and try to hurt yourself.
Don’t think of this when people come after you.
“I’ll--”
“Hey,” she breathed, her body moving forward, forgetting about the ledge and her heels and forgetting about the danger.
Her hand grabbed the side of his masked face, bringing it to hers, allowing her to kiss him lightly on the lips. Just for a second. One breathless and quiet second. She rested her forehead against his as he inhaled sharply--erratically. Each breath was a thought and a guess as to what it meant and what she meant by it, and she could read them all.
We can’t go back to the way we were.
She didn’t have the words to say the way she felt.
But we can get better.
She could only hope that this would convey the most of it:
You’re not alone.
She inhaled as she felt his hand go to her cheek, putting more weight into their stance as they stood there, connected, sharing each other’s space, their breathing falling in sync, holding each other strong as the wind pushed against them and the street beckoned below.
Days seemed to pass before he nestled in a bit more, his nose pressing against the side of hers and his mouth resting against her cheek.
She felt him inhale deeply near her ear.
“Go help someone,” she exhaled into his.
Then the moment was cut short, ending with the image of him falling backwards, the hint of a smile on his face as gravity took him.
She gasped as she looked down, finding him turning right-side up as he fell. One astonished blink later, his form vanished into the shadows between the city lights.
Karen thought she heard the ends of a chuckle in her ear.
“Dramatic bastard.”