The first time you meet him, it's like coming home.

"Have we - have we ever met?" You ask, and he's looking at you the same way.

"I'm not sure." He replies, and you're interrupted by the other man - Foggy - rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

The feeling stays, though. He always feels a bit like home.

You're walking out of the office with Matt, and it's dark outside, and suddenly there are men surrounding you, pressing something to your mouth -

You wake up in an old warehouse, tied up together with Matt, surrounded by men with semi-automatics.

"You've made a lot of people angry," the man says, circling you. He has a russian accent, and more guns than one person should ever have. "There are a lot of people who'd pay for your head."

"So you're selling us?" Matt asks tersely from behind you.

"Oh, no." The Russian replies. "You're going to be a gift - to a woman who's been looking for you for quite some time."

"Madame Gao." Matt replies, and your head is spinning even faster.

"Yes," you reply sarcastically, "because nothing says 'romance' like a kidnapped, injured couple."

A white-hot flash of pain strikes your face, and everything goes dark.

"This feels weirdly familiar," you murmur, when you regain consciousness.

"I know what you mean." He replies.

"Matt."

"Karen?"

"I think it's time you bring me in on whatever the hell's going on."

"Nothing's -"

"Men kidnapped us, Matt. And the way you were fighting -" you break off. "I don't know what to think anymore."

He takes a deep breath. Finally, you think. Finally, you'll have an answer.

It isn't what you expected. And at the same time, it is.

"You stupid. Moron."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't think to tell me about this? All this time, you've been running around like a ninja, making stupid excuses about your injuries -"

"They weren't always stupid -"

"Give me a break, Matt.

"It must be lonely." You say, after a long silence. "Living like that."

"It is." He admits. "I mean, I always thought it would be different. And maybe it would be, for someone else - if they had someone to share it with. Someone they loved. Then it might be different."

He takes your hand, and even with his bruised knuckles and your aching ribs, it makes you feel like everything's going to be alright.

Afterwards, after you escape, you go out to the bar. You've both had too much to drink, and nothing coming out of your mouth makes any sense.

(It makes too much sense.)

"I always used to look at people on tv," you say with a glass of beer lifted to your lips. "I would look at them having adventures, and I - I envied them."

"You ever heard the expression 'be careful what you wish for'?" Matt asks you, and you slam the glass on the counter, harder than necessary.

"What, so ending up tied up in a warehouse with some maniacs - that'll serve me right?"

"No, I didn't -" his voice softens, "I didn't mean it like that. Look, when I was a kid - adventures were the last thing on my mind. My life was crazy enough as it was. I expected to grow up, become a lawyer . . ." He drifts off.

"And instead you got this." You say softly. "Instead you got me."

"Well, that's one of the good parts." He says with a crooked smile. "You, I mean. You're a star, Karen."

It feels like the echo of another life; a repetition, spinning its way out over and over again.

"Why don't you ever talk about your family?"

You're in Matt's apartment, because you were a little too drunk to walk and so was he, so instead you propped each other up and stumbled your way up the stairs together.

"Doesn't matter." You slur, leaning back into the couch.

"Yes, it does."

You look up at his earnest eyes, and something in your chest flips.

"My mother," you start, because that's the safest place to begin, "was a witch."

Matt snorts out a laugh. "I'm sure she wasn't that bad."

"No, she - she was." You laugh with him. Laughing makes it hurt a little less, takes away the lump in your throat. "She had this red hair, and cackling laughter - and it always felt a little like she couldn't see me, y'know?" And there it is - that stupid lump rising in your throat, the feeling of tears burning behind your eyes. "Couldn't see me, or hear me, or touch me - sometimes it was like I didn't exist."

He's silent for a while, and you think viciously it serves him right. He should've known better than to ask you about them.

You drift off, and when you wake up in the morning it's to a killer headache and the growing sense that you've made a terrible mistake - that now he's going to pull away more than ever.

You slip out the door, before he wakes up. You don't need to hang around to see the regret in his eyes, the distance. You've seen it too many times before.

When he shows up in the office, you're already on your third cup of coffee. Foggy's there, too, and so you do your best to avoid Matt as much as possible. He doesn't resist, doesn't push it - which tells you that you were right. You swallow the disappointment and move onto the paperwork.

It's 1 am and you're having to force your eyes to stay open, when you hear the sound of footsteps, and suddenly you have adrenaline shooting through your veins. You draw your pepper spray out of your bag -

- and then the door opens, and Matt steps in.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, but instead of answering, he drops his cane and strides toward you. "Matt, what - ?"

He takes your face in his hands, and he kisses you.

You kiss him back before you realize what's happening, before your mind consciously decides what to do.

When you break apart, you're both gasping for breath. Both reeling in the realization of what just happened.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't - I couldn't help myself." Matt whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his hands in your hair.

"I'm glad." You reply.

You go back to his place, but you're both exhausted so you just curl up on the couch with a blanket and a bottle of champagne.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" He whispers to you, stroking your hair, and suddenly - suddenly everything makes perfect sense.

You fall asleep with your head on his chest and his fingers intertwined with yours.

(This time instead of nightmares, you dream of a king and a queen, in a kingdom of stars.)