Karen was out of patience. Matt had to come home sometime, and she would be waiting to yell at him when he did. Three freaking days and he hadn't so much as texted to let them know he was still alive. What an asshole.

An understandable asshole, though. Claire had told her and Foggy what happened with Jessica and that IGH psycho. Karen couldn't be so sure that she wouldn't have run away from it all if it were her. But then, she always ran away. Matt was meant to be the one to stand and fight.

Which was why she couldn't stay angry at him for more than a few minutes at a time. Anxiety constantly eroded ire until she was left with a seething gut of worry. Matt tried so hard to be okay for her and Foggy she forgot how deeply he was still suffering. How recently he had been kept in a cage and starved and beaten beyond all memory of kindness. He still tensed sometimes when she touched him, so she'd made it her mission to make up for the months of solitude with as much physical affection as she could coax from her own insecurities. Clearly it hadn't been helping, at least not as much as she had hoped.

Her phone rang out for the third time that hour and she slipped it into her pocket under a fresh wave of anger. From what Claire had said he was in no condition to be out on the streets alone. Fighting god knew who. Not to mention a madman had been sent to kill him.

It took her a minute to dig the spare key out of her handbag. She unlocked the door without bothering to knock, not really believing Matt would be back yet. She latched it behind her out of habit and stopped dead in the hallway.

There was blood on the wall between the stairs and the bathroom door. Blood that definitely had not been there yesterday when she and Foggy had tried playing one of Matt's favourite records as loud as it would go to lure him home.

"Matt?" she called, fear wavering through the word. "Matt, are you there?"

No answer. Swallowing her trepidation, Karen pulled her keys back out of her back and wrapped her fingers securely around the cylinder of mace and moved forward. The bathroom door was ajar and she could make out something dark on the floor. Her heart pounding in her throat, she pushed it open, tensed to fight, her lungs ready to scream.

The black thing on the floor was Matt's suit. She caught a brief glimpse of blood shining wetly against the dark armour, and of the shattered eye guard in the helmet, a few fine cracks sprawling like a spiderweb from the socket. Then her gaze moved to the side and everything froze.

Matt was lying in the bath with his eyes closed, wearing nothing but his underwear, his ears under the waterline which was deep crimson with his blood. Wispy tendrils of burgundy hung half curled through the water, their tails just brushing Matt's skin, anchoring themselves in his pain.

For one eternal moment, Karen stared. Horrified. She barely registered the heart-wrenching evidence of whatever battles had left him in this state. She didn't even fully acknowledge how much blood he must have lost to make the whole bath so darkly red. For one horrible second Karen couldn't see anything past Matt's closed eyes and the deathly stillness of the water.

Then a lazy ripple appeared over his chest like a tiny tsunami and his brow twitched minutely. Without fully intending to Karen found herself on her knees by the tub, her hands crashing like bombs through the water to pull Matt up, his name cascading from her lips. He started at the intrusion, his eyes bleary and confused as she dragged him into a sitting position. The water was glacial, gelid, dripping from her hands with bizarre grace, tracing pale ruby rivers over his wintry skin.

"Matt? Matt talk to me, are you okay? Jesus, what the hell were you thinking! Matt! Answer me!"

He nodded lethargically, one hand emerging slowly from the water to grip her elbow, trying to calm her. The blood was coming from a long cut on his side, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. It didn't make the wound look any better though, especially surrounded by the too-white skin which made his many bruises appear almost black.

"K-Karen," he mumbled. He licked his lips and swallowed, turning his head towards her and offering a weak smile, his eyes blinking languidly. "Hey."

"Don't hey me – what the fuck, Matt? You're freezing!" She looked around frantically for a towel, spotted one folded neatly in an open cabinet by the sink and snatched it. "C'mon, we gotta get you out of there. Can you stand?"

He nodded, reaching one hand out to her for help. His expression frightened her. The slight smile gave his features a pleasant, sleepy cast as though he'd been up too late working on a case, but his eyes were vacant. Empty.

Taking most of his weight for him, Karen helped him to his feet. The cascade of water sluicing from his limbs was disproportionately loud in the confined space, crashing like a waterfall into the tub. Matt let out a faint sigh and leaned into her, his hand shaking in hers. Swallowing her terror, Karen helped him step drunkenly out, wrapped the towel around him, and began rubbing hard, more to warm him up than to dry him off. His teeth were chattering in moments.

"What the hell, Matt?" she half-hissed, half-sighed, his forehead against her shoulder as she massaged warmth into his back. "Talk."

"Jus' wanted some quiet," he mumbled into her collarbone. "I's okay."

Karen snorted and pushed him back. "The hell it is." The cut on his side was oozing blood again. "Shit, you're bleeding. C'mon."

"I'm okay Karen," he promised quietly as she led him to the couch, the towel still draped across his shoulders.

"Shut up."

The first aid kit was in its usual place. Foggy had restocked it a few days ago and she had a needle threaded and clamped in no time. Matt reached for it as she sat down beside him but she swatted his shaking hand aside.

"Don't fall asleep," she ordered darkly.

"I can do it, Karen," he offered, his voice still oddly calm. Too quiet, too peaceful for what she had just seen. It made it worse.

"Just shut up and stay still. And stay awake."

He sucked in a breath as she started the first stitch and leant carefully back into the couch. Silence hung between them as they worked, but she kept a steady eye on his face. His eyes stayed open throughout, his breathing regular and steady as the shivers shaking through him.

Karen had never seen Matt topless before. Any lingering fantasies of muscle were abruptly extinguished by the reality of his thin, scar-littered frame. They were even worse than she'd pictured, standing out all the more for the paleness of his shivering flesh. How had he been hiding all of these under his shirts? How had he come to work and acted normally when these miniature mountain ranges of jagged skin still bled through their stitches? She remembered the not-car crash, the day after Fisk and Nobu had almost killed him. Seeing the remains of that defeat was worse than anything her then-enamoured mind had conjured up. The thick puckered line on his right side was the reason he had walked so gingerly that day. The ragged ridge across his abdomen was his souvenir of Midland Circle. The circular blob on his left shoulder was from a bullet he had taken while saving her from the Hand.

And that jagged, uneven scar along his trembling forearm was from the last time he had tried to –

"Didn't know you could stitch," he muttered as she tied the last one off, her hands almost steady.

"Figured I should learn when we got you back," she said, her voice somewhat clipped. "Been practicing on oranges."

She plonked the needle and clamp back into the little tin box and opened an antiseptic wipe. Matt didn't say anything as she cleaned and bandaged the wound, but once her hands were free of their task he took one gently in his.

"Thank you," he whispered, a soft smile warming the words. His eyes were trained on her cheek, the emptiness filled now with sincerity. With a sigh, Karen held his hand in her lap.

"What the hell was that back there?" she asked, still afraid to hear the answer.

"I j-just needed a bit of q-quiet. It helps, the water. Amplif-f-fies my heartbeat and b-breathing so it's pr-pretty much all I can hear."

She wished he could see her expression. "You really expect me to believe that?" She let his hand go and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it snugly around him, discarding the towel to the floor. It was covered with slashing pink stains.

His brow twitched into confusion as she got up and headed for his bedroom. "What d-do you mean?"

Karen huffed a humourless breath and threw him an incredulous glance through the wall. She let her anger flare briefly as she grabbed him a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt, and his black hoodie. The grey one must be in the wash. The threw them onto the couch – resisting the urge to aim for his face – and tried to keep some of the exasperation out of her voice.

"I mean you disappear for days and then I find you looking half-dead in a bathtub full of blood. Jesus, Matt! Were you –" The words caught in her throat. She took another breath and forced them out. "I expected your wrists to be slit."

He blinked, his hand halting halfway to the pile of clothes. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

He heaved a heavy sigh, hanging his head and pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He pulled the sweatpants over his damp boxers with trembling hands. "I'm sorry Karen. That's not, that's not what was – I wasn't. I swear."

"Could've fooled me," she said, a bit more coldly than she intended, returning to sit beside him.

"I was tired," he pleaded, suddenly looking downright haggard. The deep purple bruise surrounding his right eye coupled with his dark hair and stubble made him look deathly pale. "I was just –"

"Trying to get pneumonia?" she finished pointedly. "You were bleeding. Matt," she sighed, shifting her weight and taking his hand in hers again, taking a deep breath to quell her anger and fear. "Please don't lie to me. Please. Let me help, Matt."

"I ..." Something in his expression shifted and she couldn't tell if it was a wall wavering up or crumbling down. "I've been a huge asshole."

Karen blinked. Not what she'd been expecting him to say, but, well, accurate.

"I'm sorry I ran away, Karen. I just ... I ..." His brows pulled together and another shiver swept along his spine. He closed his eyes in defeat. "I don't even know how to say it. I'm sorry, I just, I – I'm sorry."

His head fell forward over his shaking hands and Karen's angry retort died on her tongue. Matt was pale and shivering and more scarred than she had ever imagined he could be, and seeing him hunched before her, the days of worry and irritation washed away under a wave of aching concern that crested into tears she did not allow to fall.

She sat back down beside him and reached for his hand, squeezing his quivering fingers gently.

"Matt," she said softly, her heart aching for his. She laid a hand gently over his cheek, silently urging him to speak. "We had a deal. Remember? You can talk to me. I promise. I'm not going anywhere. You can hear my heartbeat – you know I mean that."

For a moment, he didn't move. Then, with a barely audible sigh he leaned into her palm, his expression tortured.

"I don't know if I can keep it," he breathed, his eyes closed against whatever made his voice sound so strangled.

"Try," she whispered back, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, careful to avoid the angry bruise around his eye.

He remained silent for a long while. Probably just to prolong the moment before he had to speak again, he pulled the rest of the clothes on, then dragged the blanket back over his shoulders. The shaking was less noticeable now.

"Elektra found me tonight," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen hoped her heart didn't betray her shock as much as her expression did. Elektra was alive?

"When we were in IGH," he continued, each word a deliberate effort, "Jess and the others, we, um, we ended up in the CEO's office. For the files." He swallowed. "And I smelled her. Elektra. And Madame Gao, the Chinese –"

"I know," she cut in softly. He'd known they were alive all this time?

"Well, um ... When sh-she died, Elektra left me money. A lot, more than I'm ever gonna use. I was giving most of it away. When I got back here, I checked it. The day you and Foggy threw me that rebirthday party, actually." He heaved a shaking breath. "And she had been withdrawing money since just a few weeks after Midland Circle collapsed. So it wasn't just, I dunno, wishful thinking or whatever. She was alive."

"Wow. That ... must've been ..." She couldn't think what that must've been like.

"That wasn't all. There'd been a deposit." Matt pulled the blanket tighter around himself and shifted his weight. It looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. "From IGH."

"From –? What?"

He nodded, a humourless smile flashing across his lips. "Fifteen thousand dollars. Dated the same week they started their file on me."

A crushing silence pressed down on them for a long moment as Karen digested this.

"She sold you."

"It looked that way. So I asked Jessica to find out."

"And?"

"She didn't."

"Find out?"

"Sell me. Elektra. Whatever that money was, it wasn't for me. She, em ..." He stopped. Something flickered in his expression that prompted Karen to reach out for him again, her hand on his forearm. Whatever it was was hidden too quickly for her to identify it, but her heart was beating a little faster in its wake.

"She saved me. Under Midland Circle. She ... got me out of there. Left me in a – a mission centre to get better. But the Hand found out and they, uh, one of them attacked the centre. I don't – I don't remember it, but he's the one who took me to IGH."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. She, em, Elektra killed him. She said."

"She told you all this tonight?"

Matt nodded.

"That's a lot, Matt."

He nodded again, that same flicker of something flashing across his features once more.

"She's leaving America," he continued, his voice trembling with tears he didn't allow himself to shed. Karen shifted closer and wrapped her other arm around his shoulders, leaning her head into his. "I wo – she's not gonna come back. She's gone."

His voice cracked a split second before whatever composure he had been clinging to and his shoulders shook under his suddenly ragged breath.

"Oh, Matt." She leaned into him, holding him tight. "I'm so sorry."

"It must be a record," he muttered darkly, attempting to inject a note of humour into his voice and succeeding only in sounding more miserable. "To lose someone you love three times. Four. Least it wasn't so dramatic this time."

Karen snorted a brief laugh and squeezed his arm. "Must be a record, forgiving someone you love so many times, after much pain."

His breath hitched against her. "I think, this time," he said haltingly, "it's real. Permanent. Whatever we had, it's ... over."

Not knowing what to say, how to begin to mend the brokenness of his tone, Karen just drew him into a proper hug and held on for a long, long moment. Uncharacteristically, Matt did not break the embrace, but curled his arms around her waist, drawing her into the warm cocoon of the blanket and burying his face in her shoulder. His breathing was steady, his shoulders solid and sure, but his hands were fists at her sides.

"Is that why?" she asked quietly, drawing back and watching his face closely. She hadn't seen his expression so nakedly vulnerable since the day Jessica brought her and Foggy to Trish's apartment. "Why you wanted ... quiet?"

His eyebrows pulled up as his features crumpled into something halfway between a sob and a snarl. His breath hitched and he dipped his chin, angling his face away from her.

"There's something wrong with me," he whispered, sounding as though he were being dragged over a bed of razor coals. He freed a hand from the blanket he had been clenching and stabbed a finger into his temple. "Something – here." His hand moved to gesture as a claw to his heart. "Something I can't – it's not – I can't breathe around it," he gasped desperately, turning unseeing, imploring eyes on her. Karen took his hand in both of hers and held on tight.

"I know, Matt," she said softly, blinking away tears. "I know."

"It's – I think it's always been there. But now – IGH, it just, it's stronger. Bigger. And I can't – I don't – I don't know how to fight it, Karen, I want to, I just – it –" He shook his head, anger furrowing his brow as he sucked in a much needed breath. His hand was a vice around hers.

"It was stupid of me to run away," he continued after a moment, a little more calmly. "But it was the only thing that made sense. And tonight – last night, whatever –before Elektra found me, I ... I was hurt and I just ... Sat there. Thought what would happen if I just stayed sitting there all night until I bled to ..."

Karen put her other hand firmly over her mouth to silence the sob that was rattling through her heart with uncaring violence. She hoped Matt wasn't listening to it. She had never heard him talk like this before. Ever. She didn't want to be what made him stop. With a silent, steadying breath, she pushed her own agony down and forced herself to be calm. If he wouldn't cry then she would do it for him. Later.

"It's not right," Matt said uncertainly. "Thinking that way. This thing, it – it's dangerous. A-and I don't know how to fix it. How to fight it. It's winning, Karen, and it's not just me it wants, it'll take all of you if it can and I – I can't protect you. I can't even protect myself."

"What do you mean?"

"Jessica." His voice shook through the syllables and Karen's heart broke for the fear he couldn't hide in his face. "Bullseye had her – because of me. And if she hadn't – I couldn't save her, Karen. All it took was a laugh – Bullseye laughed and I couldn't see anything but what he did to me. I was drowning and he could've killed us both. And she – she doesn't deserve that."

"Neither do you," she promised softly. Matt turned tormented eyes on her. When he spoke his voice held all the energy and hope of a dying breath.

"I'm scared, Karen. And so, so tired."

She pulled him against her, tucking his head under her chin and stroking his cheek with one hand, her other arm a protective wall around his shoulders.

"It feels like poison," she whispered, her tone unsteady under the weight of unshed tears. "Like it's burning and choking you and you feel so vile you're sure if you touch another person they'll get sick with it too."

Matt nodded against her collarbone, pressing himself tighter into her with a shuddering gasp.

"And it blinds you," she breathed, "to everything good about yourself. That's how it works. It tricks you into believing you're alone and not worth saving. I know, Matt. I know. When Kevin died ... I didn't feel light again for ... for years. But you and Foggy. You were like a beacon in the dark. You both saved me."

She pressed a kiss into the back of his neck. "We can save you too, Matt. Me and Foggy. I promise. We'll figure this out. We'll get you through this. You just have to let us, Matt. Please. We're not going anywhere," she whispered, the words shaking with sincerity, her heart beating along in emphasis against his bony shoulder. "So you have to stick around for us. You're worth saving, Matt. We love you so much."

His wavering sob was almost inaudible against her chest, but she felt the tension grow in his shoulders, felt him quiver in silent agony for a moment before it washed out of him with a sigh and he slumped against her.

"I'm proud of you, Matt," she said quietly, stroking her fingers through his damp hair. "Thank you for talking to me."

With a last squeeze, he pulled away, putting a hand to the bandaged wound on his side and grimacing.

"Thank you, Karen."

She beamed at him.

"I'm always here, Matt. Always."

He nodded, an exhausted smile ghosting past his lips. With an almost painful look of relief smoothing his features, he took the first deep breath since she'd pulled him from the icy water.

"And for the record," she said, her tone lighter now, a teasing smile playing with her lips. "It's okay for you to love Jessica you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "I didn't say –"

"Oh Matt, come on. It's obvious. You're allowed to be happy. You should be."

Uncertainty contorted his features. "I'll hurt her," he whispered. "I already have."

Karen made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sigh. "Matt, she's a superhero. Getting hurt is what you idiots do best. That and saving people," she added fairly, grinning as the corner of his mouth twitched. "She's gonna get hurt whether she knows you or not, same as you. Case and point," she said, putting a hand gently over the hidden cut on his side. "I'm just saying, you both have a life that's a magnet for Bullseyes. And you could both do a lot worse than having someone who truly understands that, who understands you. You know how much that's worth. Jessica ... she can get you in a way me and Foggy don't, maybe never will, no matter how much we want to. She's in the trench with you. Don't run away from it because it might end bad. Hold on to it so it won't."

He was silent for a long moment. Then,

"You were in the trench with me."

She almost laughed. "Matt I got dragged into a pit by people who wanted me dead. You chose to be there. I just look down and write about it. You live it."

His brow pinched together. "I'm sorry, Karen."

She got to her feet and reached for his hand, pulling him gently off the couch. "I know, Matt. It's okay. I promise. Now come on, you're exhausted."

She dragged him into his bedroom and pulled the sheets into order over the mattress. He hesitated beside her, apprehension shadowing his features.

"Karen?" he asked, his voice like snapping twigs. "Will – would you ... stay?"

He sounded so young, in that moment. So lost. She remembered those first weeks back in his apartment, when she and Foggy and made sure he was never alone, especially at night.

When the nightmares would come for him.

"Of course I will."

He nodded once, his lips twitching in what was meant to be a smile. Karen pulled the pyjamas she had never taken home from the bottom drawer of his closet and went into the bathroom to change.

She leant against the sink with her head bowed for a long moment, taking slow, deliberate breaths as the bath drained away. A numbing weight was settling over her heart, but it was no heavier than she was used to. She pulled out her phone and sent Foggy a quick text, telling him Matt was home and safe and she was going to stay with him tonight. That he was right.

Laying the phone on the shelf she considered her reflection. She looked about as tired as she felt. Doubt curled like a worm through her mind and she tried to shake it away. She couldn't have told Matt about the head found in the Hudson tonight. He could barely breathe right now, the last thing he needed was to know five of his fellow survivors had all been murdered in the past two weeks. And it would be plain stupid to tell him Brett didn't have Bullseye in custody, that someone had falsified the report and the private hospital with armed guards wherein he was supposed to be recovering was really a veterinary clinic on the other side of town. No. She'd tell Jessica, and Claire and the others. They would handle this. Without Matt.

Right now, Matt just needed sleep. And a heartbeat to listen to. Everything else could wait.

He was curled on his side with his back to the door when she came back in. She crawled into bed beside him and he reached one hand out to her. She took it and he relaxed into the pillow.

"Karen?" he mumbled, his eyes at half-mast, his voice matching the silent cadence of the dark.

"Mm?"

"Thank you. For not giving up on me. I don't know what I did to deserve you in my life, but I'm ... I'm really glad I know you."

With a smile, she leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss into his fingers.

"I love you too, Matt." She squeezed his hand and let herself sink into the mattress. "Sweet dreams, Mr Murdock."

A small, fragile smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Sweet dreams, Ms Page."

AN: Sorry for the delay, needed a little break from the intensity of these chapters. But here, have some feels! Oh, and to all you lovely guests who leave reviews, since I can't reply to you individually, thank you so much! I love hearing from you and your reviews make my day ^,^