For all I liked about season 3, I really didn't like that they had Matt be isolated from his loved ones and not really start working with them until almost halfway through the season. Not to mention, the character growth in Matt's relationships with Karen and Foggy kinda took a backseat to the plot, given the aforementioned isolation.
At first, this fic started as me wanting to ask the question of "what would season 3 have been like if Matt and Karen had a season-long romance arc in addition to their individual arcs," and how that would affect their investigations of Fisk, since in placing Karen at the Bulletin, they were clearly intending for her to be the new Ben Urich. But then as I watched season 3, there were some other plot details I noticed that I think could've been strengthened or trimmed, and some characters who deserved better.
This as a result turned into a story where Matt gets to do more things as a lawyer (across a combined 47 episodes of Daredevil and The Defenders, only four of them actually saw Matt in a courtroom, and the balance of lawyer Matt to vigilante Matt was really tipped in favor of the latter), where Matt and Karen balance out rebuilding their romance with bringing down Fisk, where Marci Stahl gets more to do (because let's face it, she's got stakes and deserves more than be just a supporting character for Foggy's story), and Fisk's criminal empire gets vastly expanded upon (including resolving a few plot threads from season 2).
As the title suggests, most of the story takes place from the POVs of Matt, Karen, and Fisk, though I will do multiple bits from the perspectives of other characters like Dex, Foggy, Marci, and Nadeem, just so we know how Fisk's people are reacting to this irritating blind lawyer and his reporter girlfriend.
This story is transplanted from AO3. Additional notes on the story can be found there.
Anyways, onto the story!
Monday, February 5th:
Riverbank Medical Center
"Thank God for you."
"He didn't help you. I did."
Matt felt satisfaction and gratitude in the words Neda Kazemi had said to him. Her father was expected to pull through, and their would-be attackers were in lockup. Justice would be served. It was just like the old days of his vigilante career. He also couldn't help but smell Karen's perfume lingering in the room, realizing she must have come by just a few hours ago, covering the attack in her capacity as an up and coming star reporter at the New York Bulletin. Perhaps, Matt thought, he'd be lucky to run into Karen soon if he followed this case through to the end. The smell of her perfume made him miss her even more, despite his best efforts to remind himself that he was letting her and Foggy think he was dead.
That moment of euphoria at realizing Karen had been by the hospital quickly faded though as soon as he exited Riverbank Medical Center's sliding entrance doors. His senses paused as all ambient sounds were drowned out by a cacophony of incoming sirens. A whole convoy of emergency vehicles was inbound to the hospital. They were just a block or so out. And he could sense a large triage team of doctors racing out from the operating room with gurneys and stretchers. Something big had happened. Could've been a fire. Could've been a building collapse. Could've been a bus accident. Maybe there had been another derailed train in the subway. Whatever it was, it was not good.
Seconds later, four ambulances, under the escort of numerous police vehicles, screeched to a halt in front of the emergency room entrance where Matt was standing. He stood there and strained his neck, trying to filter out the various voices to find out what was going on. It seemed like they were FBI agents, from the chatter he picked up. And they'd been the subject of a deadly ambush. Multiple dead, others badly wounded.
"Multiple GSWs."
"First one up!"
"We're losing him! We're losing him!"
"Goddamn Albanians! They killed everyone except Fisk!"
Matt froze. Wilson Fisk?! Out of prison?! He was supposed to be locked up in Riker's, serving life for all his crimes! He was out already? Oh, god, please tell me this isn't real.
"What's Fisk's status?"
"Somebody said he's en route to the safehouse. Dex and Markham have got him!"
It was what he heard a police officer on her iPhone a few feet away from him that chilled his blood to the bone.
"It's a damn shitshow here, Renzulli! The FBI just let Wilson Fisk out of prison!"
From behind his glasses, Matt's eyes widened and he felt his heartrate pick up. He thought he was about to faint. Wilson Fisk was out of prison. He'd just gotten his hearing back 100% and the world's way of thanking him was to release the crimelord that he, Karen and Foggy had dedicated their first few months as Nelson & Murdock to putting away. He gripped his cane tightly and felt his heartrate speeding up. He heard Fisk's voice echoing in his head, recounting the threats Fisk had made when Matt had visited him in prison after Frank Castle had escaped. It seemed like that had been ages ago.
"When I finally get out of this cage, I will dismantle the lives of the two amateurs THAT PUT ME IN HERE! You, Mr. Murdock, and Franklin Percy Nelson!"
Matt grimaced. Goddamnit. Fisk had promised that he'd go after everyone Matt cared about when he got out. Karen. Foggy. Claire. Possibly Father Lantom and Sister Maggie too if he ever learned about them.
As the FBI agents, police officers, and emergency room doctors ferried the wounded in to the operating room, Matt filtered through his options. If Fisk got himself out of prison, surely there was a way to put him back in there. It was just a matter of how he could do that. But more importantly, he was afraid. If Fisk made good on that promise of his to destroy Karen and Foggy, and he almost certainly would, he couldn't live with himself.
"You, Mr. Murdock, and Franklin Percy Nelson!"
It hit Matt, then. Fisk only mentioned Foggy's name when he was choking Matt over the table. He said nothing about Karen. That could mean anything. Maybe he did know Karen but just didn't mention her out of convenience. Maybe he didn't know yet about Karen's other investigations. Maybe he didn't say her name because he'd long since forgotten her, given how much had passed since she'd exposed his racketeering at Union Allied. Next to him, Karen was always getting into trouble and diving headfirst into dangerous situations the first time around. She had also been the staunchiest supporter for Daredevil, always convinced that he was the good guy no matter how hard Fisk tried to smear his good name. She fought hard to get justice for everyone hurt by Fisk. He'd seen it in how much energy she put into Union Allied, helping Elena Cardenas in their dispute with Armund Tully, hunting down Fisk's mother. She was brilliant.
Yeah, maybe Karen was his best shot he had at getting to take Fisk down head-on. Fisk was apparently in the protective custody of the FBI, so he probably didn't have 100% the influence he had before his arrest. But it would mean that there would be no fistfights with him in dark alleyways or warehouses. At least for now, this would be a fight that would take the form of newspaper headlines and espionage, the sort of stuff that Karen was better suited for. In that moment, as he listened to the wounded FBI agents being rushed into surgery, he made a decision: he would go seek out Karen and ask her for her help. Whether or not she'd agree to work with him, he'd deal with that when he found her. But given her new circle of colleagues, and her current job, word ought to be reaching her about Fisk's situation within the hour. And he knew that when she got her teeth on something, she could be very hard to let go. She wouldn't stop until Fisk was back in prison any more than he would.
He decided he'd head back to his apartment and wait for her there. He didn't know if she'd be at her office at the Bulletin or at her apartment, or out covering a story, and he didn't have a phone on him with which he could call her up. So he'd have to go back to his apartment anyways. And he hadn't had his burner phone with him when he had gone to Midland Circle, so trying to contact her on that was out of the question. Without a further ado, Matt quickly walked away from the emergency room entrance and sauntered towards the street, prepared to find his way back home.
Brighton Beach
When Mitchell Ellison had invited Karen Page to have dinner that Monday night with his wife Lillian and nephew Jason, she was beyond ecstatic. Most of the Bulletin reporters never got the privilege to meet Ellison's family, except for the special ones. Usually the ones who won awards, or the ones who wrote groundbreaking stories calling attention to issues that the other papers dismissed. From what Ellison had told her, Ben Urich had been one of those special ones. The fact that she of all people got invited down to the Ellison family house in Brighton Beach must've meant he thought she was the next Bob Woodward, that she was on the verge of capturing a Pulitzer. For dinner, Mitchell was cooking his signature home-cooked tofu.
Karen couldn't help but admit as she dug in that the tofu tasted very good. She'd mostly subsisted these last three very eventful months since Midland Circle on a diet of mostly takeout food and health drinks from the various places within a few blocks of her apartment. That was a small price to pay in readjusting her monthly budget to include Matt's rent, at least, until the day she'd decided to just cut her losses and move into Matt's apartment completely.
"You seem like someone who hasn't had a home-cooked meal in ages," Lily commented.
"I don't know, it's been uh, three months since I had one," Karen said.
"See, now, that's bad," Jason said from across the table.
"Yeah," she smiled wistfully.
"Yeah, it's been about a month for me," Jason said, "I've been elbows deep in, uh, research, but it feels like 100 years since I had a home-cooked meal."
"Well, this is all Uncle Mitchell-" Lily stepped in.
"Please, stop." Mitchell smiled in embarrassment.
"Left to my own devices, we'd be ordering Wo Hop every night," Lily laughed.
"Nothing wrong with that," Karen said, taking a sip from her wine. She couldn't help but think, more than ever, about the days when she worked with Matt and Foggy in Nelson & Murdock, eating Thai food as they burned the midnight oil doing case work. Ever since Neda Kazemi had told her that a man fitting Matt's description had saved her and her father. She made a mental note that tomorrow, she was going to hunt down that mystery man in black with everything she had until she knew for certain that it was Matt.
"This woman does it all," Mitchell said, singing praises of his wife, "Not only does she run Proxy Magazine, she is an expert orderer."
"Stop it."
"No-no-no-no, it's true. You're amazing! It's like a skill. Right? You know all the best dishes on every menu. You always order the right amount. Never too much, too little. It's perfect."
"He'd be lost without me," Lily turned to Karen. Still not as impressive a skill as say, being a blind man who is also a trained martial artist, Karen thought wistfully.
"I would," Mitchell said.
"Disgusting," Jason muttered under his breath.
"Are they always like this?" Karen asked him.
"When I was eight," he said, "they renewed their vows on Long Beach - in front of the whole family."
Karen gasped in mock horror. "No…"
"Aunt Lily hired one of those planes that write in the sky."
"Oh, my God. Did you really?" Karen turned to Mitchell.
"I did." Lily nodded, sounding very much proud of what she'd done.
"So, how did you two meet?" Karen gestured between Mitchell and Lily.
"Kind of like you guys, actually," Lily said, "We were set up by our college newspaper editor."
Karen felt her heart skip a beat. So that was what this was all about? Mitchell invited her over because he was trying to set her up with his nephew. She looked at her boss, crestfallen. You're trying to hook me up?! Seriously?!
"Oh, Mitchell, did you not tell them?" Lily asked, noticing the change in Karen's demeanor. She's in on this as well…
"Uncle Mitchell-" Jason started to speak.
"I am so sorry. I had no idea," Karen stammered.
"I had no idea I was…I had nothing to do with it," Jason replied, tongue-tied as well.
An awkward silence fell around the dinner table. Clearly this wasn't going the way Mitchell thought.
"You know what?" Karen spoke up, to break the silence, "Uh, we need-we need more wine."
Karen stood up and dismissed herself to the kitchen. Ellison followed her. Once she was certain they were out of earshot, she turned to him with her most accusatory look.
"Really?" Karen asked. Can't you see I'm not interested in anyone whose name isn't Matt Murdock?
"I get it," Ellison said, raising his hands in defeat. "I'm sorry. You know I knew that if I had actually asked you, you'd have said no."
"Yes, right," Karen agreed, "See, that's the part where it gets to be my choice. Because I know you meant well, but this?" she motioned back towards the dining room.
"You could use some happy," he said to her.
"I am happy," Karen protested. Well, I'd be truly happy if Matt were still around. I'm happy I have this job and I love what I'm doing here. If Karen were being honest with herself, the last time she ever felt completely happy was that day Matt took her to that curry place on the Lower East Side for their date. Our only date, she thought sadly. Since she couldn't tell her boss the truth about Matt, or why exactly she was so obsessed with everything related to Midland Circle, without compromising Matt's big secret, she settled for a small lie. "Look, I'm not, um I'm not ready." I'm not ready to move on to another boyfriend.
"All right," Ellison said in his most fatherly voice, "Well, if you want to leave, I'll understand." He headed back towards the dining room. "I'm sure Jason will, too," he added as he passed her, with that undertone of You're staying here if you want to keep your job.
Karen conceded. I may be hung up about Matt, but I might as well stay and be a good house guest for my editor. He has the power to fire me and this would look embarrassing on my resume. She took a deep breath and rejoined the Ellisons at the table.
Several glasses of wine later, Karen was pretty tipsy, and laughing at Jason's jokes.
"...So, wait, you're telling me that you named your cat Ralph?" she asked Jason.
"Ellison," Jason added.
"Oh!" Karen laughed, getting the pun.
"Hey! I have a PhD in American Literature," Jason said, "He's my favorite author. 'Life is to be lived, not controlled. Humanity is won by-'"
"I know this one, actually," she interrupted, "'Humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of certain defeat.' Is that right?"
"How do you know the quote?" he asked, amazed.
"I was going to be an English major. Invisible Man would have been a big part of my curriculum, but that was another lifetime," she said.
"Well you made out okay," Jason pointed out.
"A revered journalist with an acclaimed publication," Mitchell chimed in, beaming.
"Okay," Karen smiled shyly. Considering that when I retire, people will probably best remember me as the girl who exposed Wilson Fisk, got saved by Daredevil twice, and later got held hostage by a suicidal ex-Army bomber and got saved by Frank Castle. I'm probably a walking Lois Lane right now.
"Too much, honey," Lily said.
"So, tell me," Karen regained the podium, "Do you ever worry little Ralph's plotting your demise?"
"I take it you're a dog person," he commented, gesturing at her with his fork.
"Absolutely," she nodded. She always wished she'd owned a dog. Back when she was a kid in Fagan Corners, her family had a black Labrador named McFly, after the main character of Back to the Future, but whom she nicknamed "Death's Head", on account of how dead his eyes looked. It was one of those stupid names that a childish mind like hers would invent. Unfortunately, he grew old and died of kidney failure when she was 13.
"I don't know," he shrugged, "I like the company. Shared a room with my brother growing up. The apartment felt empty 'til I got Ralph. How about you? Any, uh, siblings?"
Karen stiffened. She resisted the tears she wanted to let out. She didn't really like being reminded of Kevin. Especially not tonight, given how she'd just used his death just hours ago as a way of getting Neda to open up to her.
"Uh…" she stammered, trying to think of something to say.
"More wine?" Mitchell spoke up, sensing Karen's discomfort and trying to stage a quick intervention. He knew the truth about Kevin's death. He and Ben had both done their research into her past activities, and had assured her that they weren't letting it define their opinions of her. But that didn't make things easier for Karen.
"Um yeah," she said to him. Then she turned back to Jason. "No, I had a brother, too, but, um but he died." In a car accident. Of my own doing. Because I took my eyes off the road while arguing with him.
"I'm sorry." Jason sounded sympathetic.
"No, it's okay," Karen said, fighting a tear forming in the corner of her eye, "It was 14 years ago."
"Who wants dessert?" Mitchell asked.
"That'd be great. Thank you," Karen said.
Unfortunately, that dessert would never come, as it was then that Mitchell's phone rang.
"Sorry," Mitchell said, "I'm sorry." He got up and disappeared into the kitchen to take the call. "Yeah. Ellison."
Karen thought nothing of it. Ellison was probably just fielding a call from a colleague filing a story...that is, until her Galaxy rang a second later. She took out her phone and grimaced when she saw the caller ID. It was Detective Brett Mahoney. Now why is Brett calling me at this time? She thought. Did he have a case with potentially interesting leads for her? Did he have something about the Kazemis?
"Uh, sorry," she said to Jason and Lily, before answering the phone. "Karen Page."
"Hey Karen," Brett said, "It's Brett. Uh, I hope I'm not bothering you at this time."
"Uh, no Brett," Karen replied, "No, I'm fine. I'm just having dinner with Ellison's family. What's going on?"
She could hear Brett shifting uneasily on the other end of the line. There seemed to be a lot of chatter and chaos going on in the background on his end.
"Brett, is something wrong?"
"Have you contacted Foggy or Matt lately?"
"Uh, I spoke to Foggy at his family's butcher shop just a few hours ago. Why do you ask?"
"I think you should be the first to know…" Brett paused. He sounded very somber and strained as he restarted... "I don't want be the bearer of bad news, Karen, and…look, there's no easy way to say this, but...Wilson Fisk just got out of prison tonight."
All the blood drained from Karen's face in a microsecond. Fisk is out?! Already?! How the fuck did this happen?! Fisk had been convicted of five RICO counts in the Southern District of New York, all but ensuring a life sentence for him. Clearly, he must have found some way to manipulate the legal system into letting him out early.
Internally, she started freaking out. If Fisk was out, it was only a matter of time before he started coming after the people responsible for locking him up. Foggy. Matt. Her. The day that he found out she was the one who killed James Wesley couldn't be too far off. If or when that day came, he'd kill her. And Matt wouldn't be around to stop him. Or was he? Was that him who saved the Kazemis last night? Neda's descriptions of a masked man in black had given her hope, as it was too much a coincidence that she described it as looking like the black costume Matt had worn that night Rance had tried to kill her in her apartment.
"Karen?" Brett's voice jolted her back to reality.
"Sorry. Uh, what do you mean he's out? How did this happen?" she asked, regaining her voice.
"He made some deal with the FBI, he's being moved to a safehouse of theirs here in the city. They got attacked en route," Brett said. His voice sounded very hollow. "That's all I know."
"Where is this safehouse, exactly?" Karen asked.
"I don't know," Brett said tersely. "I'm at the precinct awaiting a debriefing. I'll call you tomorrow when I get more information."
"I understand."
"I just wanted you to know in case he, y'know, comes after the lawyers responsible for putting him away. You were their secretary..."
"Office manager," Karen corrected.
"...so he might come after you by proxy."
"I'll be prepared for when that happens."
"I'll try to find more information on just what happened and I'll call you tomorrow, if that's okay?"
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks for the heads up, Brett. Good night," Karen replied before hanging up. Oh god, no no no no no no...
"Is everything okay, Karen? You look like you've seen a ghost," Lily said, cautiously.
"I have to go, I'm sorry," Karen abruptly pushed back her chair, gathered her things and got up. She needed to head home, shower, and start thinking of some sort of strategy to go after Fisk. As she was heading for the door, she saw that Ellison had put his newsboy hat on and was headed out. Karen guessed that whoever he was on the phone with had informed him about Fisk as well, and he was on his way back to the office to get his reporters rallied and cover this breaking story. This was NOT something the Bulletin was going to take lightly, not after what that monster had done to Ben Urich.
"Who in the HELL would let out Fisk?!" Karen shouted at Ellison, unable to contain her anger.
"Don't say his name!" Ellison hissed.
"What?! Why?!" Karen asked, offended.
Ellison stopped in the foyer and turned to face her. "Look," he said in a quiet tone, "After Ben died, Lily was inconsolable. They were really close. And, you know, it turned out that somebody at my office had been working for him. We'd gotten to the point where an hour could go by, and I didn't have to call to reassure her that I'm alive."
No wonder the name would be taboo in this household. "I understand," Karen replied.
"Good," he said, "Then you won't push back when I tell you, you are staying away from this story."
"I can't do that," Karen said. Fisk will come after me. You may know about what I did to my brother, but you don't know a thing about just what sort of horrors Fisk put me through, Ellison.
"Yes, you can. And you will."
Karen knew what Ellison was really saying. He didn't want her covering Fisk because he had tried to have her killed twice. And that conflict of interest could possibly affect her reporting skills. "Look, I get it," she said, "I have a history with that man."
"Makes it a conflict of interest."
"Exactly," she agreed. But surely expert knowledge trumps "conflict of interest" bullshit. Plus, you never went off on me for this when I was writing about Frank, who tried to kill me on a few occasions, and during which I got shot at thrice. "But I also know him better than anyone else on our staff! Doesn't that give me a unique angle?"
"It gives you a bias," Ellison said, grabbing his coat from the coat rack, "Look, it's not up for discussion. Enjoy the pie." With that, he closed the door and headed out to his car.
Karen shook her head and yawned. It was time to head home anyways. It was getting late. It would be best for her to start her investigation into Fisk with a fresh head of steam. She gathered her belongings, and five minutes later, she was walking west on Brighton Beach Avenue towards the Brighton Beach subway station, so she could catch the Q train back to Manhattan.
At this time of night, the Q train was very much deserted. Rush hour had ended about two hours ago. There were only maybe two or three other passengers in the car that Karen was sitting in. That made it easier for her to process the swirl of information that Brett had told her over the phone. Fisk had apparently gotten out of prison with the help of the FBI. He also was being held at some safehouse somewhere in the city. Maybe this was some sort of witness protection thing, or maybe it was something else. She made a mental note to start talking to people from the FBI to find out more details. She'd have to be very quiet and discreet at this. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Ellison was right. Her personal experiences with Fisk, his multiple attempts to have her silenced over Union Allied and the tenement case, they made her too personally involved to be covering any stories she might find. Maybe that was what he had been getting at the other day when he took her off her Midland Circle research and assigned her to the Kazemi story, and told her the difference between running a story vs. letting a story run her.
Best not to think about it, she thought. I'm on a train, of those newer R160 cars with the cameras, call buttons to alert the motorman at both ends of the car. I have a gun in my purse and mace on my keychain. I should be good until we get to Times Square. As the train stopped at Kings Highway, the doors opened and another passenger got on. She was surprised to see James Wesley sitting down across from her. He looked dressed exactly as he had when she'd killed him. No tie, and a dress shirt that was soaked in blood from the seven bullet holes she'd put in him.
"Hello again, Miss Page," he said.
"Stop it, you're dead," she said. "How are you here?"
"Do you really think you can put this behind you?" he asked, motioning to the blood on his chest, "My employer probably will be displeased if he ever finds out what you've done here."
"You worked for a scumbag who kills people that get in his way!" Karen shouted.
"Hmmm," Wesley clicked his tongue. "We'll have to see about that, Miss Page. I doubt he's forgotten about my murder, even after all these years. You know he is very resourceful. Even if you were smart enough to wipe away the prints, to throw away the gun, he will find you."
"You gave me no choice," she said, "Matt and Foggy are my family. I wouldn't dare let you touch them!"
"You killed me. You killed your brother. You're a killer, Miss Page," he said, standing up from his seat and moving towards her. "That's what you are. That's all you ever will be."
"Ma'am? Ma'am!"
Karen gasped at the feel of someone putting a hand on her shoulder. It was just a man in a business suit and tie. He looked like a spitting image of Wesley, just without the glasses, or the creepy monotone voice. He had a concerned look on his face.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Karen said, breathing deeply. False alarm, Karen. False alarm. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just…was daydreaming. You remind me of someone I used to know."
"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" he asked.
"Hey back off!" Karen snapped. "Just leave me alone!"
The man shrank away and took his seat again, though still kept his eyes on Karen.
This reminded her all too much of the nightmares, and occasional daymares, she'd had in the days after Fisk was arrested. They'd gone away after a while. This was the first one she'd had ever since…well at least a year. It probably wasn't going to be the last. Usually, it was ones where Fisk would appear in her bedroom and squeeze the life out of her with his meaty hands. In others, she'd be shooting Wesley, and Fisk would appear to taunt her for getting another taste of killing someone. Always it ended with him killing her, her screaming, and waking up in a cold sweat.
Tunneling through downtown Brooklyn, and riding over the Manhattan Bridge, Karen spent the rest of the ride in silence, looking at her phone, checking the various news media sites to see if any of them were reporting yet on Fisk's release. Nothing yet, she thought. That was a relief. It would probably be the lead story on every TV station and radio outlet in the morning. Brett was right to give her the heads-up. Eventually, she heard the soothing voice of the train announcement for her stop.
"This is: Times Square-42nd Street. Transfer is available to the 1, 2, 3, 7, A, C, E, N, R, and W trains, and the Shuttle to Grand Central. Connection is available to the Port Authority Bus Terminal."
Karen gathered her belongings and got up as the train came to a stop. As she walked through the crowded mezzanine, headed for an exit, she kept looking over her shoulder, hoping that no one was following her. Get it together, Karen. Fisk may be out but he can't be too influential just yet. Then again, Karen knew that Fisk liked to employ seemingly harmless people to do his dirty work. So anyone in the busy station could be on his payroll. Anyone could've been someone he was paying to watch her, relying on the big crowds of people in the city's busiest subway station to mask themselves. Eventually, she made it to an exit and stepped out into the middle of Times Square. From there, it would be a short few blocks up to 46th Street, then west to her apartment, between Eighth and Ninth Avenues. As she was waiting to cross Seventh Avenue, she felt her phone chime. She sighed and pulled it out of her purse, expecting it to be Ellison. To her surprise, it was a text message. From Matt's cell phone number.
Come to my apartment. We need to talk about Fisk. Come alone. Do not tell Foggy.
Karen felt her heart stop. Someone was using Matt's phone and had sent a text message to her, asking to come alone. Asking her to not tell Foggy. Her instincts kicked in. That didn't sound like anything Foggy would say. The best case scenario was that Matt had found his way back into his apartment-well, it was her apartment, but Karen refused to consider it hers- in the time since she was last there, had heard about Fisk's release, and wanted to help her out with it. The worst case scenario was that Fisk had set a trap for her and it was one of his guys who had texted her while impersonating Matt. Karen would be grateful if was the former. It just had to be. It had to be. If it was a trap, it was definitely a cruel move on Fisk's part. And how am I going to explain that I've moved into his apartment?
As she put her phone away, Karen decided she might as well go there to check it out. As important as investigating Fisk was, it mattered more to her to see whether or not her suspicions about Matt had paid off. I need him more than ever. She walked over to Ninth Avenue, constantly looking back over her shoulder to see if anyone was following her. Then she headed north to 46th Street, then headed west about a half-block, to just past where the West Side Access tracks crossed under Hell's Kitchen, carrying Amtrak trains from upstate locations down into Penn Station. There was the apartment. Here goes nothing, Karen thought. She exhaled, calmed her nerves, and made her way up the stairs to Apartment 6A. Before entering, she took her gun out of her purse, and tried the knob with her free hand. Just in case this IS a trap. To her surprise, the door was unlocked, meaning someone was inside. That's strange. I know I locked up the last time I was here.
"Hello?" she called out, closing the door behind her, keeping her gun by her side. "Anybody here? Matt?"
No response. The apartment was dark and lit up only by the street lamps and by the giant neon billboard on the building across the street. She stepped into the living room, cautiously, in case this was a trap. There were the stacks of unpaid bills on the coffee table, untouched from where she and Foggy had left them the other day. Nothing else looked disturbed. And then she heard the familiar voice that she knew she had been dying to hear for the last three months.
"Hey, Karen."
A figure emerged from the bedroom, slowly walking towards her. It was…it looked like Matt. He had the same height and approximate build as Matt.
She let out a pretty loud and audible gasp, her heart suddenly pounding stronger than ever. Fast enough that it must have been deafening to him.
"Matt?" she asked in a low whisper, putting her gun back in her purse.
The figure stepped out into the middle of the living room, the area illuminated by the light from the billboard. It was Matt, looking almost exactly like he had when she'd last seen him at the 29th Precinct. The same brown hair, same sightless eyes. The only element that seemed to have differed about him was that the stubble on his chin had grown out a bit.
For these three months since Midland Circle, she'd held out hope against hope that Matt was still out there. As time had passed, though, her hopes began to fade. But she refused to believe him dead because she just couldn't imagine a world without Matt. And now, here he was, very much alive and well.