Chapter 2: Reunion
New York City had the same background din as her preferred stomping grounds in LA, but the air had a colder sting to it, despite the fact that she was in a neighborhood called Hell's Kitchen. The sky overhead was grayer, too, reminding Skye that she wasn't welcome here. She found herself standing with her arms crossed defensively over her chest, instinctively shielding herself from the world like she used to do as a child.
"Is it smaller than you remember?" Simmons asked tentatively, her perky British tones tempered by the occasion.
"Saint Agnes was always small, and the city was always big." They skirted around the small section of the street that police had half-heartedly cordoned off with yellow tape. The cops didn't seem too invested in enforcing the sanctity of their crime scene, which probably meant they knew what happened and were only going through the motions for form's sake.
Skye hesitated at the door, but knocked under Simmons's encouraging scrutiny. She hadn't really expected to recognize the nun at the door – there was always a bit of a turnover in the ranks – but she got a little twist in her gut when she saw a round, familiar woman. "Sister Barbara!" she said with false cheer. Sister Barbara was one of the more lenient ones around here, but even so, it was hard to let her guard down around any of them. "I don't know if you remember me, but..."
"Mary Sue!" the elderly woman exclaimed, pulling her into a firm but mercifully quick embrace. "I wouldn't forget a single child who passed through these doors. Please, come in! And who's this with you?"
"Jemma Simmons," Simmons reported, holding out a tiny hand to shake. It was soon enveloped. "I'm a friend of Mary's." Her lips twitched with barely-restrained mirth. She'd giggled quite a bit on the quinjet when Skye first informed her of her old orphanage-bestowed name of Mary Sue Poots. "She was just visiting me in the city and she asked if I wouldn't mind swinging by here with her. I'm not from the city originally; I've just been staying here for work. Party planning," she added unnecessarily, giving more details than necessary. "I love the clientele in New York. Anyway, we saw that bit on the news about Daredevil, and Mary was concerned about you all and the kids here, and she insisted we come right down."
Skye jumped in with her part of the story. "I wanted to make sure you were all right and see if there's anything I can do to help."
Sister Barbara seemed to buy this explanation. "Some of the children are a little shaken, though the young ones were having the time of their lives. Daredevil asked the Reverend Mother to keep everyone inside away from the windows, but they kept trying to sneak off to get a peek at him." She shook her head. "I don't think they really knew what sort of danger they were in. Still, it's always helpful to have a few extra bodies around here. Would you mind staying to read them a few stories? It might take their minds off of things. Then you can have dinner with us afterwards."
"Absolutely." She let herself be herded into a room with a dozen early elementary-aged kids who were currently catapulting Jenga blocks at each other. All blocks fell to the floor when the sister engulfed the doorway and told them to behave for their guests. She then left Skye and Jemma alone with the children to attend to her other duties, which seemed somewhat negligent to Skye. While Sister Barbara technically knew Skye at one point in time, she had no way of knowing what sort of person Skye had grown into.
She could tell from Simmons's wrinkled nose that she had similar thoughts, but that wasn't why they were here. "So, I heard you guys had a visitor last night!" Skye said, blithely ignoring Sister Barbara's instructions.
They all started clamoring to give her details at once, all very outlandish and probably made up stories about ninjas actually getting into the building, about Daredevil and various other superheroes (mostly Avengers) swooping in to save the day, and about themselves having a ringside seat for the whole show. "Did any of you get a good look at Daredevil?"
"He wears all red!" a little girl helpfully supplied. "And his eyes are red, too. And his hair."
Another kid jumped in to correct her. "No, that's all part of the costume. His head just looks red 'cause of the mask."
"And he wears red and black," someone else put in. "And he has that cool stick thing."
"He has two sticks."
"It's one."
"No, the two can just hook together."
"No, the one comes apart."
The bickering continued without providing Skye any real clues. One claimed to have heard Daredevil talking with the Reverend Mother, but when pressed, she admitted she hadn't heard very well. Eventually, Skye gave in, read them their stories, and went with them to the dining room when it was time to eat. Simmons mostly stayed silent, listening to the children talk about whatever they wanted to talk about. Some of it was school, clothes, and other normal, non-hero related subjects. She also spent some time braiding the girls' hair and letting them do her short locks.
The small herd of them joined the growing crowd that scattered across the seven long tables – one for grown-ups and six for kids. Everything looked exactly as she remembered it: mismatched children being glared at and told off by harried nuns. The only difference was the presence of another visitor at the grown-up table. A handsome man in a brown suit sat at near end of the table, talking quietly with a nun that Skye didn't know. The round red sunglasses on his face and the cane folded up and sitting with the briefcase at his feet told her he was blind. Something about his smile told her she'd met him before.
It came to her in about half a second, and Skye found herself hurtling toward the table calling his name. "Matt!" she cried out, announcing her presence. He'd grown up since she'd seen him last and was sporting a healthy crop of stubble, but he was definitely the same deceptively quiet boy that caused a few broken hearts around these parts.
He tilted his head in confusion, but like her, it didn't take him long to place the voice. "Skye?" At least he remembered the name she'd chosen for herself, not just the one forced upon her. He rose from his chair, possibly anticipating her, but she decided it'd be polite to narrate anyway.
"I'm about to hug you!" She didn't give him much advanced notice, but he did gladly return the hug. Once they disentangled themselves, Skye and Simmons went through their introductions again and Skye informed Simmons of Matt Murdock's status as a fellow Saint Agnes alum. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here on business. I'm a lawyer now, but try not to hold that against me." He turned toward the center of the table with an eyebrow raised, looking for permission to say more about the case.
The Reverend Mother filled in the pertinent details. "It's about last night's dealings. One of those fools loitering around outside tripped over a curb and broke an ankle. Now he's trying to sue us, saying that we should have more lights outside."
"He's got no case; there's absolutely nothing to worry about. Still, I had to come over and talk over the details. I'll also need to check out the scene once the police are gone. I'd give them another hour."
Sensing an opportunity, Skye quickly offered, "I could come with you and take some pictures if you want."
"Sure, sounds great." They settled in for a bland meat-and-potatoes meal with some brownish carrots on the side. "So, what are you up to these days?"
"Computer programming."
"And how do you and Ms. Simmons know each other?"
"Just Jemma is fine," Simmons said, smoothing her blouse, then catching herself at it and blushing. "I hired her to write some code for an event scheduling program. She's really quite good at what she does. We just hit it off after that."
Matt chewed through a particularly tough-looking piece of meat with a thoughtful expression before he finally replied, "Well, I'm glad she can do what she enjoys without getting in trouble for it."
Skye cupped her mouth behind the back of her hand and lowered her voice. "Believe it or not, Simmons, I used to get in trouble for sneaking onto the computer. And then hacking different websites."
"Really? Who'd have thought?"
They all went on chatting, Skye and Simmons expanding on their fabricated backstory and Matt telling them about his time at Columbia University. The nuns were quick to point out that he graduated top of his class and now did mostly pro bono work in the neighborhood, besides volunteering at the orphanage when his schedule permitted. He worked hard to steer the conversation away from himself as much as possible, and Skye honestly couldn't tell if it was out of modesty or if there was some embarrassing tidbit he was afraid they'd expose.
"We should probably get to work before we lose our light," Matt said eventually, feeling the time on his watch. "Cops should be gone by now."
"Dead ninjas don't warrant much of a crime scene here, huh?"
"No one died."
"What about that archer that was on the roof? That guy definitely died for sure."
Matt adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. "You might want to keep your voice down." She thought she had been, but she could also see why he wouldn't want the kids to hear this little chat. "The police never found a body," he continued. "He either walked away or was carried away, but the man in the mask never kills people. At least, he hasn't so far."
"'The man in the mask?' You mean Daredevil?"
"Yeah, that's what people used to call him. Even now, some think that 'Daredevil' is a little over the top. Along with the new costume. I hear it's very red."
Skye did a mental side-by-side comparison of the two costumes she'd seen. The current red one embraced the dramatic flair of the superhero life while seeming to provide some protection. The old black one was thinner – regular fabric, it looked like, but the tight shirt did flaunt his muscular form. "They both seem okay to me." The three of them rose and headed for the door, Matt taking Skye's arm and walking half a step behind her as she guided him to the street. "Have you ever met him?"
"Me? No, but I've met people he's saved. I've represented some people he's fought."
"Bad guys?"
He hesitated. "They knew they did wrong, but I believe they genuinely wanted to turn their lives around, and they were entitled to a fair trial, like anyone else."
Releasing Matt, Skye dug around in her purse until she found her phone, and then she began snapping pictures as he directed. He seemed distracted, but that wasn't unusual for him, as Skye recalled. He often seemed to be off in his own head, which could explain why he was more accident-prone than the average person, even the average blind person. He'd certainly turned up with more scrapes and bruises than anyone else in the orphanage had.
"Maybe we could catch up more later," she suggested, pulling him out of his reverie. "As long as I'm in the city."
"Hm? Sure, sounds great. Can you e-mail me those pictures? I should get back to the office."
"Work for a big law firm?"
"My friend and I have a practice." He gave her his e-mail address and hurried away, red-and-white cane clacking back and forth in front of him as he went.
As he disappeared around a corner, Simmons nudged Skye. She'd valiantly held her tongue but finally was able to say what she'd been thinking the whole time. "How have you never mentioned your gorgeous childhood friend before? The one who seems very intelligent and kind and..."
"And older than me. He was usually seeing someone closer to his age. Sure, I had a crush on him for about a month, but I got over it. After that, he was more like..." She wanted to say like a brother, but it wasn't exactly that. "Well, we were never close, but those of us who were there for a while – the ones who never got adopted – had a kind of... camaraderie. You know, help each other with homework, stand up to bullies, that kind of thing."
Those kids, they knew her. They understood her in a way that even Simmons, her best friend, never could. But then, Simmons had seen a side of her that no one at the orphanage ever had, either. Skye was willing to bet solid money that no one at Saint Agnes had ever seen her as a potential hero. More like a potential inmate.
"Forget that for now. We've got work to do."
Simmons examined the scene helplessly. "Do we have any leads?"
"No leads, but..." Something sparked in her head, and she started to get that grin on her face that Simmons always dreaded. "...I do have an idea."
"I'm not going to like it, am I?"
"Oh, you will hate it so much."
Simmons accepted this announcement with the resignation of a martyr. "I suppose we'd better get started."
