His place is nice. Well, it's big. Cassandra follows the echoes of Matt's cane, dragging her fingers around the perimeter to establish the shape of the apartment in her mind. Why he needs this much space is beyond her but then again, the theater is enormous, and Cassandra doesn't take up much room.

"So how does a lawyer who only defends the innocent afford a place like this?" Cassandra asks when she finishes her tour. There can't be a lot of money in trying to defend people who actually haven't done anything wrong. Defending career criminals who are flushed with cash is a different story.

"I've been told that there's a very distracting billboard in the window. No one else wanted it, so I got it for cheap."

"Does that count as abusing your disability?"

"Probably," Matt says and she can hear his smile. "But finding a nice place in this city is next to impossible. I can deal with the bad karma later. The bathroom is down the hall if you want to take a shower. Shampoo and conditioner both have labels in Braille. "

"Are you telling me I stink?"
"Not in so many words, but the hospital smell is starting to make my nose hurt." No

arguments there. "I'll have the guest room made up by the time you're done." Cassandra raises an eyebrow. A big fancy loft and a guest room? He really did get this place for cheap. "If you need a cane, I have extras."

"I don't need a cane," Cassandra says, clicking her tongue for emphasis. She knows that it's rare, being able to get around without one, but it's helped her so far. If she wears glasses, most of the time she can pass for normal. Unfortunately, once the glasses come off, that falls to pieces.

She changes back into the stolen clothes when she's done, pulling her wet hair up into a messy knot on the top of her head. Getting the shower to work took a little experimentation, but she figured it out eventually. She can't remember the last time she had a proper shower; usually she makes do with stolen shampoo and waited for it to rain. She almost forgot what hot water feels like.

"You should get some sleep," Matt says when she emerges. "Sleeping is healing, isn't that what they say?"

"You got a lot of experience with stab wounds?" Cassandra asks. Matt doesn't respond and she feels a pang of guilt at lashing out. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"I understand," Matt says graciously. "Guest room's the door on the right. Sleep well, Cassandra."

"You too. And Matt?" Cassandra calls before shutting the door behind her. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Good night."

Sleeping in a bed is harder than she remembers. The closest thing Cassandra has at the theater is a musty old couch that is so hard she might as well be sleeping on the ground anyway. But the bed in Matt's guest room is cushy and soft and Cassandra's body sinks into it immediately, the mattress and blankets wrapping themselves around her like a cocoon. Or a tomb. She can't breathe; she feels trapped and every time her heart beats, the vibration rebounds at her until she feels like the whole bed is thrumming. Eventually she gives up, throwing off the blankets and curling into a tight ball on the floor. Not so good for her injuries, but she'll never fall asleep in the bed. Even then, she can hear arguing from the couple living downstairs, and across the street, someone is watching some kind of sports game on television and swearing loudly. Cassandra squeezes her eyes shut and tries to block it all out, going from one vibration to another and tracing each back to their source until she's so exhausted that not even the noise and energy from the city can keep her awake.

Karen and Foggy are in the apartment when she wakes up. Cassandra slowly uncurls herself, wincing at the soreness on top of the stabbing pain in her side.

"Good morning," Karen says cheerfully. "Or should I say, afternoon."

"Morning," Cassandra says sleepily, keeping her eyes closed. "'Sup Hair Gel."

"Come on I changed my brand!" Foggy complains. Cassandra laughs.

"Sorry, man. Am I wrong?"

"She's not wrong." Matt agrees. "I never wanted to say anything. I know how you love your hair."

"You're an asshole, Murdock," Foggy grumbles. "And since you're an asshole who can't cook and whose fridge only has beer and mayonnaise from the turn of the century, we brought some food. And some clothes for you, new kid." Cassandra thanks them and goes to the guest room to change into the clothes, running her fingers over the material. Cotton T-shirt and denim jeans. And Karen's got a good eye for size; they fit. Something is sizzling in a fry-pan when she reemerges.

"Please tell me the blind guy isn't cooking," she says, finding her way to a chair by a breakfast bar that hums with neglect. Apparently Matt doesn't do much in this place but sleep.

"Nope, that would be me," Foggy says. "You know, my mom wanted me to be a butcher." Karen and Matt both groan and Cassandra can tell that this is an oft-told story. "What? I would've been a great butcher."

"Too bad you're slumming it with us, taking down bad guys." Karen says, smiling.

"Hear, hear." Foggy replies. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, opening her eyes in the process. "Jesus." There's a crash and Cassandra jumps out of the chair. Something hot flies through the air right where she'd been sitting, landing on the floor with a wet sound. For a moment, there's just silence. "I am so sorry," Foggy says finally.

"No, it's on me," Cassandra replies. "I should've warned you. I really need a pair of glasses." She knows that her eyes are startling: Bright blue and slashed through with zigzagging scar tissues that have effectively obliterated her vision. She waits for one of them to ask how she managed to duck out of the way in time, but no one says anything. "So what's this about taking down bad guys? I thought there was some asshole in a mask doing that." The three of them pause, and Cassandra can feel unspoken words flying through the air around her. "Wait. You guys know the Devil?" Cassandra doesn't exactly have a lot of time to listen to the news, but everyone's been talking about the maniac running around Hell's Kitchen. He was the one who blew the hell out of her neighborhood – or so everyone thought until the Devil took down Wilson Fisk.

"We don't know him, per se," Karen explains slowly. "But he saved my life. And gave us evidence on Fisk that helped implicate him." So they're working with the masked idiot who'd tried to take on some of the most powerful crime organizations in the city. What kind of lawyers are they?

"Wow. And here I was thinking that a career in law would be boring," Cassandra says. Not that she ever considered it. Before Matt, she never thought that becoming a lawyer was even possible for a blind person. Besides, she doesn't have a high school diploma – the minute she turned eighteen, Cassandra packed what she had and ran away from the orphanage. It helped that they were going to try and exorcise her. Cassandra always thought that she should be honored; the Catholic Church rarely does them anymore. She's just lucky like that.

"Maybe it would've been, if this idiot hadn't convinced me to start our own practice." Foggy says.

"Good thing for me that you did. I was their first client." Karen says. There's some clattering as whatever Foggy's making is dished onto plates, along with something that smells like pancakes. "It's pancakes and bacon," Karen tells her, setting the plate down. Score.

"I think this might be the first time I've ever eaten a home-cooked meal in this place," Matt says around a bite of food. "Damn. You might have to rethink this whole law thing Foggy. This is good."

"Your surprise wounds me," Foggy replies but he sounds pleased. Cassandra doesn't join in the conversation, too busy attacking her own food. She hasn't eaten anything this good in years. Her meals usually come from shelters, or anything she can steal from bodegas or convenience stores. No one ever suspects the blind kid of stealing; she might as well be invisible. Cassandra uses it to her advantage.

"So speaking of work," Foggy says once everyone's finished their food. "We actually have to get going. There's a client coming in an hour."

"You're welcome to come with us, Cassandra," Karen offers. "It might be a little boring, but I think it beats hanging around here all day. You and I can pick up a pair of glasses while they're in the meeting, if you'd like." Cassandra pauses suspiciously, her first thought that they don't want her here because they don't want her to steal anything. But Karen doesn't resonate with anything but sincerity. She means it. Foggy thinks that she might take off with something, but she can't blame him. She'd be wary of a homeless kid hanging out in her best friend's place too. Part of her wants to say no. She can't afford to get attached and the more she spends time with these people, the more she likes them. Karen and Foggy, at least. There's still something about Matt that nags at her, running shivers of suspicion down her spine. But the other two…

She can't get attached. She still has unfinished business with the assholes who beat her into the ground. Then again, it's not like she's in any shape to go back there, and if she's being honest with herself, this is the nicest place she's going to have to rest and heal. Maybe ever. It wouldn't make sense to give it up before she has to.

"That would be great," she says. "I've never been to a law office before."

"Don't get excited. It's smaller than this place." Matt says. Cassandra shrugs. Still beats sitting around all day.

Matt wasn't lying. The office is small, but Cassandra likes it immediately. There's good energy here. Recent triumph is still hovering in the air. Probably from their victory against Fisk. There's also a sense of loss, hiding under the surface. It's distracting, but Cassandra shoves it all aside when Karen leads her around the office, allowing her to run her fingers over everything, getting a sense of the space. It's easier than using echoes; they're so easily disrupted by people or other vibrations. Cassandra prefers to find her way by touch. Karen sets her up with Matt's iPod and a pair of headphones and Cassandra plug in, losing herself in the music for a while. Blocking her ears doesn't exactly make the world go quiet, but it's a start. The vibrations are still there, pounding at her skull, all demanding attention that she can't spare without going completely insane, but not being able to hear helps.

"Can I ask you a question?" Karen asks when she and Cassandra hit the street, heading for a shop down the block. She makes sure to keep her eyes downcast to avoid freaking anyone out. Matt told her not to worry about the cost. Apparently the owner owes him a favor.

"I was born like this," Cassandra answers without waiting for the question. It's a lie, but it's easier than the truth. People usually don't pity her as much when they think she's lived her whole life without sight.

"That's not actually what I was thinking," Karen says and Cassandra flushes with embarrassment. "How do you get around so easily? Matt uses his cane but you're able to just walk around without any problem."

"Well, not completely," Cassandra hedges, making sure to stumble over the step when Karen opens the door to the shop. She clicks her tongue and the sound bounces off the walls quickly, as well as several glass cases and racks. "It's sort of like echolocation. If I click or clap my hands, or anything like that I can sort of get an idea of where things are around me. It's not concrete and it doesn't work with anything mobile, but it gets me where I need to go. Also works with people who have really shrill voices, but that always ends up giving me a headache." She leaves out the bit about the vibrations and energy that clog the air like smoke. Cassandra's never been a case study in normal, but even she knows thather little talent is freaky. Besides, they're more often a hindrance than anything else, distracting her even while they amplify her ability to move around without knocking into anything.

"That's amazing," Karen says. Cassandra shrugs.

"I think being able to see would be a little better, but I do what I can with what I've got."

"So what about this place?" Karen asks. "Can you get around here without help?" Cassandra nods and clicks again, moving past Karen to touch over the counter on the right.

"There's another counter over there," she says, pointing. "And a couple of racks in the corner. And then there's you behind me and the guy at the counter." The guy staring very obviously but she didn't mention that. She shouldn't be able to know that. "That's all."

"That's amazing," Karen repeats. "You have a gift, Cassandra."

"I wouldn't go that far. But it gets me where I need to go." It's also very much why she hasn't died yet. Without her weird little quirk Cassandra knows that there's no way that she would've survived so long on her own. It's also what made the nuns think that she and Satan were BFFs. "Unfortunately, I still can't actually see. You mind passing me some glasses?" Karen obliges, selecting a few pairs off of the racks and handing them to her. Cassandra traces the frames with her hands and tries each on, finally settling on a pair of Ray Bans that Karen approves of. The man at the counter only waves them out the door when they try to pay.

"Thank you," Cassandra says quietly when Karen opens the door for her. She's been saying that a lot these last couple of days.

"It's my pleasure." Karen talks idly as they walk back to the office and Cassandra holds her head high, finally able to make her way around without ducking and skulking. Which doesn't help her much when she nearly runs into someone right outside of the office.

"Watch it puta," a horribly familiar voice spits and Cassandra freezes, the man's energy crashing over her like the tide. "Learn to fucking walk." Cassandra doesn't reply, just skirts out of his way.

"Asshole," Karen mutters under her breath. "You okay?"

"Fine," Cassandra says, lying. Her mind is occupied with memories of blood and pain and that voice. Andre's voice. "That's Hell's Kitchen for you." Thankfully, either she doesn't notice or isn't willing to push but Karen doesn't mention it again.

"Excuse me," Cassandra says, feeling a man in the hallway and stepping around him before she can knock into him too. She's off her game today. "Sorry."

"No problem," the man says before stopping and taking a longer look at her. Cassandra fought the instinct to duck her head. "Why, you're blind as well, aren't you? Good for you, getting ahead despite your disability. You and Mr. Murdock." He pats her on the shoulder and keeps moving and Cassandra can only stand there, dumbstruck.

"So are we going to talk about the fact that your client is an ablest asshole?" Cassandra announces, shoving the door open.

"Oh you mean the guy who insinuated that I passed the bar because of pity? Yeah," Matt says jokingly, but his tone is dark. "What did he say to you?"

"He congratulated me on rising above my disability. He actually said that. Those words. To my face." Cassandra had been insulted plenty of times but this is the first time someone's actually thought that what they were saying was constructive, even positive. Idiot. "Maybe I should hang out here more often. Make the clients feel grateful that they're not disabled. Or if worse comes to worst, I could always just sit here and put my hands on their faces, peering into their souls like no one with sight can." Cassandra knows that she's getting too emotional, but that guy was a something else, and being so close to Andre so soon after what had happened is putting her on edge.

"He's an idiot," Foggy says dismissively. Cassandra can still feel Matt seething. Guess ignorant comments still sting, even when you're older. "But if you are going to stick around, you might as well help Karen. We've got ourselves a case!"

Cassandra doesn't complain about being put to work. Honestly, it helps to keep her mind off of everything. It's a miracle that Andre didn't recognize her, but then again, after the beating he and his boys laid down, he probably thinks she's dead. He's got another thing coming. Karen explains everything that has to be done and everything is labeled in Braille, so after that it's just going through the motions. It's a late night, peppered with phone calls that Cassandra isn't allowed to answer after she snatched the phone the first time with a cheerful: "You've reached the law office of Blind and Hair Gel, how may I direct your call?" The caller hung up. Around eight, Matt orders Thai food from a local joint, promising that it's the best in the city. Cassandra agrees by default; she doesn't have anything else to go on. It is some pretty good food though, even if she does prefer pancakes.

Around midnight, they pack up and leave. Cassandra almost wishes that they didn't have to go. This whole day…it just felt normal. Good normal. Matt, Foggy, and Karen, they accepted her into their lives without a second thought even though none of them should have trusted her for a minute. It's amazing.

It's bad for her. Cassandra can't afford to get used to this. They're a weird little family and she's already too close. Karen hugs her and Foggy claps her on the back before she and Matt head back to his place and Cassandra makes her choice.

As soon as she can hear steady breathing coming from Matt's room, Cassandra throws open the window and makes her way down the fire escape as fast and as quiet as she can. No one will be surprised that she disappeared in the night; they all had her pegged as a runner. Maybe they'll worry about her injuries – which still don't feel great, but she'll manage. T

This is the only thing she can do. It's the best thing to do. Besides, Cassandra thinks, palming the knife she grabbed out of Matt's kitchen, she's got work to do. This time, she's going to bring him home.


So I totally got carried away, so you all get 2 chapters in a week. Please don't expect this of me every week and please forgive me if my posting is irregular. Finals are coming up and I'm in real hell as well as daredevil hell, so be kind. Review and tell me what you think! 3