Author's Note: Hello again reader people. So I'm finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel here. After this, there are probably 2, possibly 3 chapters left. Now, when I started this story, I had every intention of this one being it. I was going to wrap things up, more or less, and close out this little pocket universe. Of course, I also thought this would end up being 60,000 words tops, and here we are now. The problem, though not exactly a problem, is Garrett. Garrett and Rachel and that whole mess of confusion. Most of that wasn't in the original plan, and as I've said before, the narrative took on a life of its own. The point is, there's no way I can tie off all the plot threads within this story, not if I want to do it well. So, I almost hate to say this, because I'm sure half my readers have dropped off by now, but…sequel? Sequel? Man, I can't believe I'm talking sequels here. Again with the sequels, the never-ending sequels! Anyway, more on that next time.

Garrett makes with the French a little bit here. He does this because I was listening to a particular song the other day, which some of you probably know and some of you probably don't. Funnily enough, though I was aware of the song, I wasn't aware of the translation until I decided to throw it in here and look up what I was throwing in. I was pleasantly surprised that the lyrics to 'Lady Marmalade' (at least the French portion) were very appropriate for Garrett's character. So, if you're familiar with the tune and you know the French, you'll get a certain joke between Garrett and Elektra. If not, the whole chapter doesn't hinge on that joke, but if you're curious, Google voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and see what comes back.

I have no idea if the Excelsior actually has safe-deposit boxes, I just know that some hotels do and I didn't feel like naming a fake one. If the real place doesn't have them, chalk my factual errors up to creative license.

The final bit with Elektra and the card was inspired by Daredevil Volume Two, #78. Brian Bendis is quite awesome, and sometimes I take his awesome scenes and defile them with my unworthy hands.

As always, read it, enjoy it, and make me happy by reviewing it.

Abby came downstairs a short while later, drawn by the silence. "So," she began, glancing quickly at Burke's unconscious form, "interrogation over then?"

"Paused," Garrett replied, still at the table with the others. "I'd be fine with feeding him to the bears right now, but Elektra wants to keep up the chat."

"And…that's why he's out cold?"

"Save it," Elektra snapped.

Surprised by the harshness there, Abby took a moment to really look at the adults. All of them wore somber expressions, all of them attempted to mask their somberness. "Is everything-?"

"What's the matter, Abby?" Matt tried to sound firm and ended up sounding tired and depressed.

"We need a third for Go Fish."

Garrett snorted into his beer.

"You said distract her; I'm trying to distract her."

"Fine," the hitman relented, starting to rise from the table. "No cheating this time."

"Yeah," the teen replied carefully, not quite meeting his eyes. "That's…that's not going to work. Rachel's kind of…not happy with you right now."

Halfway between sitting and standing, Garrett froze for a moment, brow crinkling in thought. Then he got it. Dropping back to the chair, he drained half his beer before speaking again. "I wasn't here," he stated.

"It's not your fault," Abby argued, "It's just-"

"Just that I wasn't here. Not when Burke's guys came, not when Fisk's guys killed Jimmy, not when…when Jimmy was screwing with her head. I get it."

"Garrett," Matt tried to cut in.

"I. Get it. She's pissed at me, I'm pissed at me, it's a whole thing where people are pissed at me." He drank the rest of the beer in one long swallow.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then, shrugging in Elektra's direction, Matt broke the silence. "Third for Go Fish."

"You do it."

"Why me?"

"You're better with her."

"Am I?"

"I played with those bean things this morning, you play cards."

"Beanie Babies," Garrett supplied, getting up to retrieve another drink."

"Fine," said Elektra staring down a man who couldn't see. "I played with those, you get to play cards."

"I spent two hours listening to a show about a girl and her talking backpack. Then I spent an hour playing some kind of magical pony game."

"She still does that?" Garrett frowned, "I thought I told her to grow out of that game.

"Okay," said Abby, holding up her hands defensively. "Please stop. I'm going to need therapy already, and this isn't helping."

Snorting again, Garrett uncapped his drink and reclaimed his chair. "You grow up not needing therapy, it means your parents did something wrong. Right, Elektra?"

Shaking his head, Matt left the table, waving for Abby to precede him. "Does it have to be Go Fish?"

"I like Go Fish."

"Great," Matt deadpanned, following the teen upstairs.

Their departure left Elektra alone with Garrett, a situation she'd become much too familiar with over the past days. This time was different though. This time, there was an unconscious man on the floor, Matt was playing children's card games, and Garrett was sick. Dying, Garrett was dying.

"I'm sorry." The apology came after long minutes of heavy quiet.

Distracted from peeling the label off his beer bottle, Garrett set the item down and looked carefully at Elektra. "You are, aren't you?"

The surprise in his voice didn't hurt her like it might have someone else. Elektra herself was surprised by the honesty in her words. He'd never be her favorite person, but Garrett wasn't Fisk or Kirigi or Bullseye. And despite her refusal to be with him right then, Rachel loved him. Rachel, a child with nothing and no one left to her, save her uncle. Her sick uncle. Her dying uncle. Elektra was so sick of everyone dying, even Garrett.

"Kimagure." Elektra began after another long silence.

"Doesn't work in sickness, E. I know that so that means you have to know that. By the way, before Burke wakes up and twists this around, I lied to you about something else too." Pausing, Garrett waited for her to whip out the sais. When she simply scowled, managing to appear both angry and resigned, he continued. "Day after you showed up, you asked me about Stick, I told you I ran into him a couple months back."

"But you didn't."

"I sought him out a couple months back, after I realized the pills and the treatments weren't cutting it anymore. Basically ordered him to use his magic powers to save my life."

Despite her resentment of yet another deception, Elektra couldn't help a bit of dry humor. "That must've gone over well."

"Well as you'd expect, I had a limp for two weeks afterward," the hitman replied. "Funny isn't it? That the dying can't be brought back from the dead. Guess those Japanese sorcerers were thinking about population control when they wrote the rules for all this."

"You said there were treatments."

Nodding, Garrett took another gulp from his beer. "Things to keep my heart from beating itself out, clear my bloodstream of the chemicals, things like that. Chastity gave me numbers for lots of doctors with lots of miracle cures. Thing is, none of those cures were really cures, and I built up an immunity to most of them. Can't fight off whatever the hell S.H.I.E.L.D. poisoned me with, but I have no problem handling the other stuff. Yay for the human body."

Elektra had nothing to say to that. "You could've said something."

The words hadn't been accusatory, so Garrett didn't bother getting defensive. "Why would I?" he asked neutrally. "Anyway, could be worse. Some of the drugs still work, and once I get back on them, I should be good for awhile."

"How long is that?"

"Awhile. Medical community's doing new stuff every day, and every time I've gotten bad before, Chastity's gotten some doctor to pull some drug out of his ass that keeps me breathing. I really should stop calling her a whore, shouldn't I?"

"What about Bullseye?"

"Bullseye's different," Garrett answered, features darkening noticeably. "Uncle Sam's guys were stupid enough to bring him back, but they weren't total morons. They knew those drugs were dangerous, they intentionally filed him with too many of them. Eventually they would've tried to fix that, but he busted out before everything was done. He busted out, S.H.I.E.L.D. lost his trail, and then they sat back, waiting for him to kick it again. They're too busy chasing mutants and building electronic battlesuits to waste time on Target Man, so they're waiting for their work to kill him. Basically, they screwed him up worse than they did me, and he hasn't had a team of geniuses coming up with new ways to keep him alive. Remind me to send Chastity a fruit basket, I really should attempt to be nicer."

"You could've told me Bullseye was sick without bringing yourself into it," Elektra stated.

"You really need a reason to stay pissed off, don't you? It's not healthy to have anger as your default emotional setting, you get that right?" Predictably, a glare was her only response. Sighing, Garrett locked eyes with her and straightened his shoulders. "When I told you Bullseye was alive, you tried twisting my hand off."

"You're ambidextrous."

The hitman rolled his eyes. "And once again you miss the point. You told me Abby doesn't think clearly when it comes to him, but neither do you. You're so damn angry at him-"

"I wonder why that is?" Elektra asked bitingly.

"Would you come off it and let me talk? Look, you hate him, great. You want him dead, great. Do you really think you can do that?"

"So now we're back to you underestimating me."

"No, we're back to you underestimating him."

"I've beaten him before."

"Yeah, so I heard. Then again, there was that other time."

"That was a long time ago."

"It was, but the rematch didn't happen yesterday either."

Elektra shook her head in irritation. "He's sick, right? However good he was before, he's sick enough that he's kept a low profile."

"Exactly!" Garrett exclaimed, snapping his fingers. Off her look of bewilderment, he leaned forward on his chair, being sure to hold her eyes. "You want to know why I didn't tell you about Bullseye's problems? Play back what you just said. He's screwed up, so therefore he won't be a match for you. That's the kind of thinking that'll get you killed, this time without do-overs."

"And what, this was you protecting me?" Elektra questioned. "You have no idea how tired I am of everyone thinking I need protection, let alone the kind that involves lying by omission."

"Everyone lies, E. As far as protection goes, I thought about not even telling you Bullseye was alive. Figured I'd let him die on his own and spare you the grief."

"I didn't need you to spare me anything."

"Because God help anyone who's stupid enough to want to do that. If you're going to keep bitching that I didn't tell you he was dying, fine, I really don't care. What I do care about is you not fucking up again because of how arrogant you are."

"You're one to talk."

"At least I admit it. Hell, the arrogance will probably get me a bullet to the head long before S.H.I.E.L.D.'s work finishes me off."

"Good view to have when you're responsible for a child," Elektra snapped

That stopped him, if only for a moment. "Don't make this about me," Garrett replied brusquely. "When Bullseye escaped that government base, he faked cardiac arrest to get out of his restraints, then he killed three guards with the spork one of them was using for his lunch. This was all after he'd been cut up and worked on and drugged into stupidity for months. Don't assume he's an easy fight, no matter what those medical files say. Way I heard it, you thought he'd be an easy fight before, and then he cut you open."

"That was different," Elektra growled. "I was angry then, emotional."

"So you won't be angry and emotional if you meet up with him again?"

"You don't know anything about it."

"I know I don't want you dying again!"

The words hung heavy in the air. Mentally berating himself, Garrett went for another beer, slamming it down before the fridge had even shut. He'd fucked up, gotten angry and emotional like Elektra, let too much of his feelings bleed out.

A groan from Ethan broke the moment. Refusing to look at Garrett, Elektra got up long enough to haul Ethan's chair from the floor. "I need you to leave."

Empty bottle in hand, Garrett let his eyebrows go skywards. "Because…?"

"I need to talk to Burke."

"I figured that when you wouldn't let me get the ax from the shed. Any particular reason I can't be here for this."

"Any particular reason you want to be?"

"Aside from curiosity? You beating up Ethan is probably the second-biggest turn-on in the history of time."

"Garrett."

"I can't play Go Fish, I can't watch you assault Burke, you're not leaving me a lot of options here, E."

"I need you to leave," Elektra repeated.

Garrett blinked hard. She'd actually sounded like a person that time. She was asking him, really asking him. Or maybe she was still ordering and he was too buzzed to tell the difference, either way. Dropping the bottle in the trash, Garrett gestured vaguely towards the front door. "I'll be around."

Elektra nodded once, but kept her eyes on Burke.

Shrugging, Garrett headed outside to locate his ax. E might want Burke alive now, but that was bound to change as soon as she had whatever information she needed, and Garrett was going to be ready.

"Can we kill him now?"

Matt glared in the direction of Garrett's voice. The man sounded more eager and excited than Matt had ever heard him. "We're not killing him."

Again, the adults were gathered in the kitchen, and again, Burke was unconscious. At some point during their twenty minute chat, Elektra had blackened both of his eyes. While Matt and Garrett argued in the middle of the room, Elektra stood off to the side, arms crossed defensively. The television in Abby's room was loud enough to be heard downstairs from behind a closed door.

"I see," Garrett deadpanned. "And why aren't we killing him?"

"Because we aren't," Matt replied, jaw clenching.

"Great argument, you must've been a fabulous lawyer."

"I'm not taking part in a murder."

Garrett opened his mouth to respond, biting his tongue at the last minute. He'd almost said that Murdock hadn't had a problem with that before. Almost, but not quite, because he knew it wasn't a solid argument. Brainwashed Murdock wasn't the same as regular Murdock. Regular Murdock was apparently the true-blue straight arrow, and Garrett found that very annoying. "You don't have to take part. Hell, you don't even have to watch."

"We've beaten him, there's no reason to-"

"For now we've beaten him. He might not be a threat to you, but I'm a different story. He was willing to kill me to get Rachel, and you want to what, let him stroll out the door? Look what happened the last time I let the bastard live."

"We need him alive. I need him alive."

"For what, your conscience? If that's what it is, do what everyone else does, tell Jiminy to shut the fuck up."

"Your big plan was what? Play it like Burke kidnapped me from Rikers. I can't go back to New York, tell everyone I was kidnapped by some lunatic, then say that he just let me go."

"Why the hell not? He's crazy enough to bust into a prison and take a hostage, he's crazy enough to ditch that hostage later on. You bullshit for a living, Murdock, you'll come up with something. He's dangerous and power hungry and I'm not keeping him around."

"He's stupid," Matt argued. "He's stupid and misguided."

"Which obviously doesn't equal dangerous."

"I'm saying that he's not going for a power-play. He's following Stick's directives-"

"So what, that's supposed to mean something? That's supposed to mean that he doesn't have an agenda?"

"You were the one who said he was always a follower, that he wasn't capable of agendas."

"I didn't think my brother was capable of brainwashing his own child, wrong there. I didn't think Ethan was capable of forming any sort of plan, no matter how shitty that plan was, and then he stabbed me in the back. Not that it matters, but he took the Lopez woman, and I'm pretty sure that wasn't one of Stick's directives."

The police-"

"We're fucking fugitives and you're talking cops? You're not a lawyer anymore Murdock, and you're not a vigilante either, so quit thinking like one. You think if you dump him on the cops, that he'll just admit to taking you from prison, then make up a reason for doing it that'll get you cleared?"

"Yes, because Stick told him to protect me."

"And what happens when he breaks out, or is he just going to stew in jail for you, too?"

"He'll get out, but he won't come for Rachel again, not for a long time, anyway."

"Not for a long time. And why's that?"

"I'll talk to him," Matt replied in a low voice.

Garrett laughed humorlessly. "Talk to him. That'll do it."

"I'll talk to him," the blind man repeated.

A chill ran through the air. It wasn't quite the tone Matt had used after the file had been played, but it was close enough. Elektra, oddly silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke up. "What are you thinking?"

Cloudy eyes that had gone hard and cold softened just slightly at the sound of her voice. "I'm going to convince him that he's going about this the wrong way."

Elektra tried to think of what the Hand might've taught Matt while he was under their control, tried to reconcile the look on his face with the man she knew.

Garrett, who'd also been taken aback by the declaration, quickly recovered. "Yeah, that's an okay plan too, but I like mine better. Yeah, I think I'm just going to kill him."

"You won't," Matt refuted, stepping in front of Ethan's chair.

"You think? I get that you're guilty over whatever Roshi had you doing last year, and I get that you don't want blood on your hands. Thing is, I really don't care." Whirling, Garrett pinned Elektra under an intense stare. "You know it's better if Burke's gone."

For a long moment, there was silence. Both men scrutinized her, waiting for an answer. Elektra could've killed Garrett for putting her in this position. Because honestly, she knew they'd be better off without Burke. Whatever his motives, he was too foolish, too extreme, and, contrary to earlier assessments, too unpredictable. It would be easier if he weren't around.

It would've been easier for her to kill the FBI agents who came looking for Matt in their apartment. It would've been easier for her to kill all of Fisk's men at Jimmy Pierce's home instead of stabbing them in non-vital areas. It would've been easier for her to kill the men Burke sent for Rachel.

"He doesn't need to be dead; there are other ways of doing things."

Matt smiled, just a little. Garrett looked at her blankly. Finally, the hitman said "You guys can't stomach killing him, but it's fine for Murdock to torture him until-"

"That's not what it'll be," Matt objected."

Garrett nodded obligingly. "You can spot liars, Murdock, but you're not a very good one. Why is it that you get final say in this, anyway?"

"Garrett."

"What. E? What? Would you be making the same argument if Burke tried taking Abby from you? These rules you live by now, you make them up as you go along, right? The rules have changed, E. Stick's not here and neither is his system and Ethan…who the fuck knows what Ethan's trying for?"

Elektra said nothing. Staring him down was somehow harder than usual.

"Give me a reason, E, because none of his are cutting it," Garrett continued, tossing a glance at Matt.

"Because I'm asking you. You want trust, it goes both ways."

"Don't joke."

"I'm not."

"Right, so it must be the argument that's a joke."

Eyes narrowing, Elektra stepped towards him, stopping just short of invading his personal space. "I kept that kid safe while you were gone. Again. You owe me this."

Garrett took a step back, feeling Murdock scrutinizing his every move. "What about before that? You came to me first, remember? That worth anything to you?"

"Burke kept Rachel alive."

Matt's words caused the other two to pause, breaking the standoff. "What?" Garrett asked.

"After Rikers. He was the one who told us she was in danger."

"Because we were badgering him and you would've known if he lied."

"Regardless. We wouldn't have known to get her otherwise. Whatever his reasons for doing it, he did save Rachel's life."

For almost thirty seconds, there was silence. Garrett's hand kept twitching towards the gun at his waist. Finally, he turned his back to Matt and Elektra, snatched another beer from the fridge, and headed out the back. "Fucking shyster lawyers. They should make a law that all the fucking shyster lawyers go straight to the firing squad."

"He gone?" Garrett asked, keeping his eyes on the tree he was shooting into.

"He's gone," Elektra confirmed, standing slightly behind him in the woods.

"He leave under his own power? I figure if Murdock had any sort of power of persuasion, Burke shouldn't have been able to walk out of here."

Elektra said nothing, watching the bullets smash into the red painted target. "You're off today," she remarked after the silence got to heavy.

"Damn fingers won't hold still," he replied. "Haven't had any decent treatments since the cops raided my place, and now my fingers won't hold still." Lowering the silenced weapon, Garrett coughed into his hand, cursing when his twitchy fingers came away bloody.

"Garrett?"

"I'm fine. So what did Murdock do? What'd he do to make Burke such a changed man?"

"I don't know," Elektra replied after the slightest hesitation.

"Why don't you know? He not want you to see him torturing Burke into playing nice?"

"That's not-"

"That's exactly what he did. I saw how he looked in that kitchen, E. This whole week, the only time I can remember him looking anything like that is when that file got opened and he…did what he did."

"Tried to shoot himself," the brunette stated tonelessly.

Shutting his eyes tight, Garrett wiped his bloody hand in the pocket of his jeans. "Listen-"

"Don't."

"E-"

"I said don't."

"What's the matter with you?" he asked suddenly. "Murdock and I were having a heated philosophical debate and you barely talked through most of it."

"Philosophy never did much for me."

"You were upset, why were you upset?"

"I was fine."

"You weren't fine, you were somewhere else."

"Exactly where I want to be right now," Elektra growled, half-turning back towards the house.

"All right," the hitman grumbled. "You were fine, transmission received." Raising the gun again, Garrett shot another round, this one barely landing within the target range. "Dammit, sight's off."

Eyebrows raised, Elektra walked up beside him, holding her hand out. When he didn't move, she gestured for the gun.

Confused, Garrett held the weapon closer tilting his head sideways. "I know we're in the woods, but no one will buy it if you shoot me and act like it was a hunting accident."

Glaring in irritation, Elektra held out her hand impatiently.

"You going to shoot me?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You in an impulsive-type mood?"

Shaking her head, Elektra took the handgun from him in one quick move. In another quick move, she brought the weapon upwards, firing three shots in rapid succession. None hit the very center of the target, but each came damn close. Lowering the weapon, Elektra threw Garrett a quick look. "Sight's fine."

Jaw slightly open, Garrett stared at her in amazement. "I thought you didn't do guns?"

"I don't."

"You don't. From where I'm standing, you could've shown Abby the ropes yourself."

"I can use them if I need to, you're the expert."

Garrett blinked. Had E verbally acknowledged that he was better at something than she was? "Who taught you?"

"My father set it up, same as every training program."

"Nice of him," Garrett stated, holding his hand out. "Obviously not your favorite skill-set."

"Most of the men I worked with taught hand-to-hand. Most of them said guns were too easy."

"Really."

"The general consensus was that any idiot could point and pull." Returning the gun, Elektra amended her previous statement. "The sight's fine, it's yours that must be off."

"I get dizzy and fuzzy and discombobulated sometimes. By the way, thanks for not treating me nicer just because of my illness." He waited for a response and got none. E had gone blank again. "So I was supposed to be straight with you about the S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff, huh? You want to be straight with me about something?" Again, he got no response. "Did you side with Murdock because you care if Burke lives, or because you don't want Murdock thinking you're a bad person?"

"Should I bother answering? Your opinion's already formed."

"I asked, so you should bother answering. If you even have an answer."

The brunette sent him a killing scowl. "Screw you."

"When, where, and in what positions?"

Elektra made to leave again.

"You walked right into that and you know it. Relax, kill somebody and borrow their funny bone would you? Seriously, I'm not bad-mouthing your guy so you'll screw me. I may have helped you to begin with on the off-chance you'd screw me, but I knew it was a longshot."

Keeping her back to him, Elektra sighed heavily, the sound a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. "What are you doing, Garrett? Whatever you're trying to get at, do it already."

Gun in hand, the hitman walked up to her, lowering his voice. "I'm saying Burke's a threat and we both know that."

"So does Matt."

Garrett made an unintelligible noise. 'You just hope that whatever Murdock 'talked' to him about had an effect. Murdock doesn't want blood on his hands and maybe you don't either, but Burke's a loose cannon, and any damage he does after this willbe your responsibility."

He was hiding out in their room again, sitting on the edge of the bed with hunched shoulders and a stony expression. She approached him cautiously, blocking out the TV that still blared in Abby's room. "Matt."

He tried to smile for her, but it came off as more of a grimace. Head bowed slightly, Matt patted the spot next to him and waited for her to sit down. He didn't try to touch her or put his arm around her. "I don't…I don't know anymore E, I really don't."

"Ethan, he's…?"

"He's taken care of," Matt replied, with an undercurrent to his voice that only a deaf man could miss. "Can I tell you something? Roshi had me killing people; you know that, even though I promised myself years ago that I wouldn't kill anymore."

"It wasn't you, that man the Hand gave orders to." She'd said it so many times, and Elektra knew that she'd never say it enough.

"I know. I know that as much as I'm ever going to know it. But I can't…so much of what I did back then is so muddled up." He stopped there, some of the tension bleeding from him as Elektra touched his arm. "When I started to fight , right before I…right before I came after you and Abby…" Matt swallowed audibly. "Roshi or his subordinates would order me to kill, but I wouldn't do it all the time, not after I started rejecting their programming. The Hand would give me these targets, but sometimes I couldn't do the job. I'd find these people, and I'd beat them and I'd do things that just... One thing I'll say about being locked in a dungeon and tortured, you learn, it's educational."

He stopped again. Elektra was still stroking his forearm and she knew he was waiting for her to pull away. She didn't, so he talked some more.

"I'd torture these people, then I'd tell them to get the hell out of town, as soon as they could move again. And Ethan, I had to do that to Ethan."

"Whatever you did was better for him than a bullet from Garrett's twelve gage."

"I don't know. Burke's not…regular methods weren't going to work. The stuff I did to him, E… Even when I was throwing rapists on train tracks, I wasn't…"

Privately, Elektra thought that Burke deserved whatever Matt had given him, times ten. Then she wondered what Matt could've done that hadn't sent Abby or Rachel rushing down to investigate. Then again, Burke could be tough sometimes, it probably took a lot to make him scream. Then Elektra wondered about Matt. She knew why he didn't want her to witness his activities, but at the same time, he had to realize some of the things she'd seen. Things she'd done. He had to realize that seeing him hurt Burke wouldn't do much to lower her opinion of him. But she really did know why he'd asked, begged her not to be there, to make sure the girls stayed put while he convinced Ethan to stay away.

"I don't know," Matt repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. His blind eyes were locked downward, on the duffel near his feet, the one that housed everything Daredevil. "Garrett's right, the rules have changed. I'm not a lawyer anymore, I'm not Daredevil…"

"You're not a member of the Hand, either, no matter what happened downstairs."

"No, I'm definitely not that. But until recently, I didn't think I'd be the guy who broke out of jail, or the guy who needs a hitman and his girlfriend to solve his problems for him, or the guy who puts a gun to his head."

Elektra pulled her hand back. He'd been waiting all this time, and she'd finally done as expected, and she hated herself for that. She also hated herself for the thoughts in her head, the ones that were always there, but rarely acknowledged. The thoughts about how at least now they were both damaged goods. She'd never mistaken Matt for perfect, but he'd always been more perfect than her. He had issues and he'd made mistakes yes, but he'd never been as screwed up as she was. And sometimes, on those rare occasions when she felt the need to find some sort of silver lining in the hell that was the last year of their lives, Elektra thought that at least it had leveled the playing field. And then she hated herself for those thoughts.

Elektra was drifting and she knew it. She was supposed to be helping him, but she'd never been good at that. Helping Abby after Mark died was comparatively easy. She was grieving, but she wasn't nearly as closed-off about that as Elektra herself had been. With Abby, Elektra could watch for the signs and sit down and hold the teenager until she was spent and there weren't any more tears. Matt was different. Matt was grieving for the man he used to be, and usually he didn't want Elektra sharing in that grief. But she had. Alone, she'd grieved for simpler times, and times that never really existed but could have, and she grieved for the man she lost. Bur Elektra had never been terribly good about getting Matt better. And now he was angry and confused and whatever else, and Elektra couldn't do a thing for it.

Elektra was still drifting and she still knew it. Her shoulder hurt and her head ached and she couldn't keep her thoughts in place. Unconsciously, she dropped her eyes to the bag on the floor. It was slightly open and a hint of red could be seen through the zipper. Her red, not his, the red of her costume. Wasn't too long ago that she would've been wearing that costume while she punished Burke for his betrayal, while she murdered him. Wasn't too long ago that she never would've been shot in that motel room. She would've been on guard and as a last resort, her Kimagure training would've given a heads-up. Kimagure. Hotel. Abby, dead in a hotel parking lot.

Suddenly, Matt was clasping her hand, turning her face towards his. He looked guilty as hell. "Garrett was right about something else, too. In the kitchen, you weren't-"

"You were listening?" the brunette asked sharply, jerking her head away from him.

"Sometimes it's hard for me not to listen."

"Work on that."

He sighed, speaking in a voice that was much too quiet. "I know you talked to Burke, I know you asked him about the visions."

Of course she'd asked Burke. Stick wasn't around and Burke was all she had. So she'd asked him why the pattern of her visions might've changed, why she was suddenly seeing the same thing for weeks, rather than quick flashes of things only a few days in the future. She'd asked him this, without telling him that she'd been watching Abby die for weeks. She'd asked and he'd said that she should've been a good student and finished her training so she would know these things. Then, after Elektra broke his nose, he explained why these changes might be happening, offering what he felt was a plausible reason. Then she'd asked him if the glimpses of the future were always accurate, always set to happen exactly as they appeared. She'd asked and he'd answered and then, in a fit of temper, she'd knocked him cold again.

Sliding her hand from his, Elektra stood up, breathing around the lump in her throat. As she stood, she looked at the bag again, at what could be seen of her costume. "Don't."

"Elektra," he pleaded.

"I said don't, Matt."

"E, don't walk away from me."

He wasn't angry, he was still pleading with her. And for a second, she thought about doing as he asked. He was slowly getting better at telling her what he'd been though, she was slowly getting better at not running from him whenever she was hurting and he got too close.

"You heard everything, there's nothing to say." She walked away from him.

Garrett dreamed that night. First he dreamt of fire and charred flesh and pain and telling Chastity that he wanted to die. Then he'd been in a white room and a guy in scrubs was telling him that it would all be okay now. And Garrett tried to scream no, no it wouldn't be okay because he still hurt. Somehow, he hurt worse than before and he still wanted to die, and if they weren't going to let that happen, they could at least give him a fucking shot of something. Chastity was standing nearby, crying and apologizing and apologizing again. Those things were more memory than dream, but then Burke had shown up. Kind of. The doctor nodded and came at him with a syringe, and then the doctor turned into Burke. Then suddenly Chast was gone and Rachel was in her place and Dr. Burke was sticking him with a needle and kidnapping his brother's kid.

Garrett jerked awake, hearing a faint noise. Still half-asleep, he went for his gun automatically, wondering what the hell was going on. Then he put the gun down because he figured out that the noise was his phone. Swearing to himself, Garrett answered without checking the display. Only a few people had this number, and most of them were asleep down the hall. "Five more minutes," he grumbled, "I don't want to go to school today."

"Hi," Chastity replied, sounding much too cheerful. "You promised to call me back later and you didn't, so now I'm calling you."

"I wouldn't have guessed if you hadn't cleared that up." Rolling over in bed, Garrett squinted at the clock on his nightstand. "What're you up to, Chast?"

"Breakfast, croissants. They're delicious."

"You don't say. I'm not having breakfast yet. You know why that is, Chast?"

"Time difference. It's 3:30 in the morning over there."

"Because there's a time difference and it's 3:30 in the fucking morning over here."

"You said you'd call, you didn't."

"So that gives you the right to interrupt my beauty sleep?" he asked, falling back on the pillows and slinging an arm over his face.

"You're not going to catch up on thirty-six years of beauty sleep in one night, babe."

"Not with you around, no." Suddenly, Garrett remembered that dream she'd woken him from, remembered how guilty she'd always felt because originally, she was supposed to be in that house that got blown to bits. But she wasn't and he was and S.H.I.E.L.D saved him so he could die another, slower death. He remembered her guilt, and what she'd done for him since, and his vow to treat her better. Sitting up on an elbow, Garrett spoke quietly into the phone. "Hey baby?"

The endearment was tender as opposed to mocking, and he could tell it freaked her out. "What?"

"Thank you, for all of it. You do more than you should and I take it for granted, but I don't always take it for granted, you know?"

There was a pause while Chastity digested that. Then, "Who the fuck is this?"

Garrett blinked repeatedly. "What?"

"If this is some kind of fucking clone thing, so help me-!"

"Wait…what? Chast, it's me."

"Me who?"

"John, Garrett, whichever it is you like better. Chast-"

"You don't sound like John or Garrett."

"Chast-"

"If this is a fucking clone thing-"

"Jesus Christ, Chastity, it's a crime to give an honest thank you?"

"It is for John. And Garrett. Neither of whom you sound like."

"Oh come on."

"What song was playing the first time we fucked?"

"Gee, Chast, don't make it sound more special than it was."

"Song title."

"The Stones, Beast of Burden."

"Wrong."

"What?"

"Wrong song."

"You're lying."

As quickly as it came, the crazed anger was gone and she was casual again. "Yeah, I'm lying. You passed the test though, which I find profoundly shocking."

Lying down again, Garrett considered smothering himself with his pillow. "You are profoundly fucked up." And she was. Not in the Elektra, scarred-for-life-by-childhood-trauma way, but in the pregnant-women-shouldn't-snort-chemicals kind of way.

"That's why I always pictured you as my soul mate. You or that guy from 90210. The one who played David?"

"I have no idea who you're talking about, and please don't think I care. What's with the clone shit? Another project at S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"Not that I know of. Someone should clone the guy who played David."

Six hours ahead, meaning it was 9:30 in the morning on Chastity's end. "You drinking, Chastity?"

"Am I, or do I want to be? Because they're two very different questions. I see you're still grumpy in the mornings."

"I got to bed two hours ago, and then you pull this crap. 'Grumpy' isn't the word for it."

"Did you mean that before, when you thanked me?"

"Did I mean it before or do I mean it now? Because they're two very different questions."

"I told Nelson about that first time we had sex and now he's all embarrassed. It's funny."

"That's good. Is there a reason you're dishing out sex stories?"

"He's been nervous around me; I thought it'd be a tension-breaker."

"And I guess there isn't much chance of you running out of material."

"I told him about some of the more interesting locations, and you know what he said?"

"Did he say you were a whore with a thing for public fornication?"

"No, he actually asked a question. Wanted to know if there was anyplace I absolutely would not have sex under any circumstances."

"And what did you say?" Garrett questioned, wondering if he could choke himself into unconsciousness.

"On a shark."

Garrett blinked, feeling a little stupid. "A shark?"

"I told Nelson that I absolutely would not have sex on a shark. Ever."

Garrett blinked. Several times. "Watching Jaws again, baby?"

"It's Shark Week on the Discovery Channel."

"Of course it is. I'm hanging up now."

"No you're not. Earlier, when you asked me if I'd gone through Jimmy's files, I assumed you were looking for something specific. So then I started looking for something specific."

"How, you said S.H.I.E.L.D. had the original files."

"They do, I have a copy."

"You made a copy of my brother's files without telling me?"

"Shut up. I've seen you spend an hour looking for a sock that was on your foot."

"I was drunk, Chastity."

"Either way, I thought it'd be safer to have an extra copy. So I figured I'd try finding whatever you were trying to find, and I think I found something."

"All this while you were watching Shark Week?"

"Background noise, John. You're brother had a letter here, addressed to you."

Garrett sat up again, wide awake. Throwing off the covers, he grabbed his laptop from the dresser. "You just happened to stumble on this?"

"I figured you'd be going in order, file by file from the beginning. I went backwards."

"Story of your life," Garrett muttered, sitting with the computer on his knees and waiting impatiently for it to boot up.

"Asshole. It wasn't so much a letter, really, but he did leave it for you."

Fucking machine was way too slow. "So?"

"You ever been to the Excelsior in New York?"

"Jimmy got married there; I slept with two of the bridesmaids."

"Thanks for telling me. They have safety deposit boxes. Jimmy had a box there. You're supposed to talk to Lou at the front desk."

"Lou who?"

"How the hell do I know, did I write it?"

"What's the name of the document you're looking at?"

There was a brief pause. "He had it disguised as video footage."

"Fine, what's the name?"

Chastity laughed at him. "Lena's Birth Video."

In the light of the monitor, Garrett's face lost all hint of color. "Thanks, Jim. Leave me something where I'm never, ever going to look for it."

"Yeah well, the good news is, I don't think S.H.I.E.L.D's tech guys would've looked there either, so whatever's in that box, they probably haven't got it."

"Knock on wood," Garrett replied, finding what he was looking for. Chastity had pretty well covered the document's contents. "Hey Chast?"

"Hmmm?"

"You could've told me about this right away instead of burying the lead under all that shark stuff."

"You were being nice; I went into a state of shock and temporarily forgot about it."

"Uh huh."

"So you're going to New York."

"Uh huh."

"Be careful, you're a wanted man."

"I'm always careful."

"Uh huh."

Chastity hung up on him.

The morning didn't start out well. Elektra, who'd barely slept to begin with, was awoken by Matt hurrying out of their bed and into the hallway Elektra threw back the covers and followed him to the landing. Garrett had tripped halfway down the stairs. He didn't look injured, but his skin was too white and his nose was gushing red. She would've liked to blame his clumsiness on the drinking, but Elektra knew she couldn't do that.

"I got it," he insisted, trying to shrug off the help Matt was offering. "Goddamn house is haunted, grew an extra stair while we were sleeping." He limped down to the first floor, dropping heavily onto the first riser. When he looked up again, Elektra was thrusting wad of tissues at him. He tried to thank her, but opening his mouth brought on the coughing fit to end all coughing fits. He sounded like a guy with lung cancer trying to smoke a cigarette. Then, because falling down the stairs like a fucking geriatric wasn't bad enough, Rachel and Abby came to see the show.

The kid started crying in silence. No matter how mad she was at him for not protecting her properly, she didn't want to see this. Garrett pretended that the nosebleed was just a nosebleed, the cough was just a cough. Abby had had a cold several days earlier; he'd just been unlucky enough to catch it. It was a terrible excuse and everyone knew it, and the kid wasn't near stupid enough to believe him.

Breakfast was hardly an improvement. Abby, unaware of Garrett's medical problems, kept trying to catch Elektra's eye, to read some answer from her guardian's face. Elektra never quite looked at her, which was never a good sign. Matt kept throwing concerned looks in Elektra's direction, an even worse sign. Rachel kept watching Garrett like she was waiting for him to collapse, and the others weren't much better.

"Uncle Garrett?"

"What's up, brat?"

"You're not eating."

"I'm not hungry, kid."

"I say that all the time and you still make me eat."

"That's different."

"If you're sick, you won't get better without eating."

"Rachel-"

"What if you don't eat and you don't get better, then you get really, really sick?"

He was really, really sick. He needed some very specialized, very expensive drugs, none of which he could get. He'd checked his accounts and found them empty. Kingpin had cleaned him out, the same way he had with Elektra. Obviously, Garrett told his niece none of this. Instead, he choked down eggs and a pancake, knowing that his breakfast wasn't going to stay in his stomach.

After breakfast, Matt and Elektra sat Abby down privately. Actually, Abby forced both of them aside, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with Rachel's uncle. They told her, or at least Matt did. Elektra still couldn't quite meet her eyes. Abby found that puzzling, but the news of Garrett's condition replaced her confusion with anger. Rachel worshipped him, despite the fragile state of their relationship, and Rachel didn't need to lose someone else

"It's not fair."

"I know it's not," Matt replied.

"He's not that bad of a guy. I mean he is, but he isn't."

Abby wouldn't admit it, and she knew Elektra wouldn't either, but Garrett was okay. He was a killer yes, but not the worst kind. And he was nice, charming in his own way. In a conceited, jerk kind of a way, but still.

Once she'd finished raging over Garrett's situation, Matt told Abby the other half of it. He almost didn't want to, almost wanted to keep it from her, though he couldn't say why. He didn't keep it from her. He told Abby that Bullseye was dying too. He was dying, and he'd be gone long before Garrett. Matt had expected that news to bring a morbid sort of comfort to the teen. He wasn't prepared for Abby's response.

"He doesn't deserve to die like that. He deserves worse than that."

The tone was just as disturbing as the words themselves, and it left Matt feeling sick. As sick as Garrett was, puking and coughing his lungs out of even as they spoke. Matt couldn't see Elektra, but he knew what she was thinking. Abby shouldn't be saying things like that, not the way she was saying them. Whenever Bullseye's name came up nowadays, Abby sounded much too familiar, like Elektra after her father's funeral. Cold and detached.

"You look happy," Garrett deadpanned, chin resting on his elbows, which were resting on the kitchen table.

"Is there something I should be happy about?" Elektra asked. She wasn't in the kitchen for any particular reason, except that she couldn't keep still. She couldn't look at Abby without thinking about blood and gunshot wounds and what Burke had said, and she couldn't stay still long enough to talk to Matt about it. That's how it was with them. One was always closing down and shutting off, and the other was always trying to bring them back.

"Well, it might amuse you to know that the majority of my stomach lining ended up in the toilet, and I'm not feeling too hot because of that."

"You weren't like this a few days ago."

"Told you, a few days ago, I was on drugs," he replied miserably.

"Is it that bad?"

Eyebrows raised, Garrett checked to make sure Rachel wasn't about to come down, then he pulled the gun from his waistband. "You see this?" he asked, pointing his finger at the weapon. "This is my favorite gun. Now currently," he stood up, walked past her, and went for the fridge, "the only thing keeping me from eating my favorite gun is this." He pulled an oversized bottle from one of the shelves, slammed the door, and sat down again. Setting the gun and the bottle next to each other on the table, Garrett reclaimed his seat and resumed his explanation. "This is my favorite gun," he repeated, pointing at the item in question, "this is my favorite bottle of tequila. In the absence of some very awesome drugs, tequila is currently keeping me from eating gun,"

"It's 10:00 in the morning," Elektra pointed out, watching him open the bottle and take a long, long swig.

Showing no reaction to the liquid burning down his throat, Garrett rolled his eyes. "Must I explain again about Mr. Gun and Mrs. Tequila? Anyway, 10:00 here, 4:00 in France. 4:00 is close to 5:00, so I say gitchi gitchi ya ya da da and voulez-vous coucher avec moi."

He'd gone from naming inanimate objects to quoting half-forgotten '70's songs. "Let me guess, that's the only French you know?

"Oui mademoiselle, and that's all the French I'll ever need. So seriously, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

Glaring, Elektra leaned a hip against the counter. "What do you think, Garrett?"

"I'm dying E, show a little pity."

"You want to die today? Keep asking me that."

"You're an icicle, you know that? You lack any scrap of human compassion."

Elektra didn't respond. She supposed it was good that he was still being a wiseass; it meant he wouldn't keel over any time soon. However, she didn't have the energy for his games. Her shoulder, which she'd never given time to start healing, was absolutely hating her. Then there was Matt, hovering nearby trying to help, but not really helping with anything. Then there was Abby and the visions of her death, and Ethan's explanation for them. No, she couldn't deal with Garrett and his games today.

"Hey," he said quietly, getting her attention because he wasn't joking anymore. "Thanks for yesterday. You did protect Rachel and I do owe you, and that's why I hate asking you what I need to ask you."

Son of a bitch. "What do you want now, Garrett?"

"I have to go to New York."

"New York. With Fisk and the police and that government agency of yours all dying to find us, and you want to go to New York."

"It's not a 'want' thing, E."

And he told her about the hotel and their safety deposit units, and how he had to go because his brother left him something, and he needed get it because he just needed to get it.

"Look E, it's just for a little while, I'll be back tonight."

He was asking her to babysit again. To sit on the sidelines, the way she'd sat on the sidelines for a couple of years now. "You're sick, Garrett."

"I've been sick for a long time, E. You understand why I need to go."

"I understand that 'going' is all you've been doing for days."

"Now you sound like Rachel."

"Maybe. She's not going to be okay with you taking off again."

"She'll deal," Garrett replied more harshly than he'd intended. "Kids are adaptable, and this'll be it. After this, I'll be with her 24/7 and I'll…we'll deal with Jimmy and all of his crap together."

He was making excuses and he knew it. He was afraid to deal with his niece, like E must've been when she took Abby in. So yeah, it had been easier to pawn the kid off on the others because he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say to her. But this would be it. He'd pick up whatever Jimmy left him, then he'd stand on his own two feet, and he'd take care of Jimmy's kid, and it would all work out.

But first, he needed something to chase down the tequila. Rising from the chair, Garrett was halfway across the kitchen before he tripped, grabbing the counter to keep himself vertical. Standing on his own two feet might be harder than anticipated.

In the end, Elektra caved. What else was she going to do, really? She could keep Garrett here if she really wanted to, but she didn't really want to, not enough to knock him out and tie him up like they'd done with Burke. She didn't want to be responsible for Garrett's responsibility again, but a part of her wanted him gone. There were too many people in this house, more than Elektra was used to, and she wouldn't mind having one less to deal with.

Then one less had become two, because suddenly Matt was going along on this little road trip. When Rachel discovered her uncle was leaving yet again, right after the bad men had tried getting her yet again, her reaction was predictable. She yelled and cried and pushed Garrett away and it was all very cliché and dramatic.

"You got hurt yesterday! You're sick today! And now you want to leave again?"

"I'm not leaving, Rachel, I'm…I'm stepping out for a little while."

"Leaving."

"Look Rachel, this is important okay? You're Daddy, I need to get something he left before he went away."

"Died. Before Daddy died," the blonde corrected tearfully.

"Died then," replied Garrett in a barely audible whisper. "Rach, I don't get it, you know? I don't understand a lot of what's happening with you and...and what was happening with him. And I need…I need to figure that out so I can take care of you."

"What if Daddy left you another tape? What if Daddy wants me to listen to it and get more headaches? Are you going to-"

"Rachel!" Closing his eyes, Garrett knelt to her level before opening them again. "Rachel," he said softly. "No more tapes. Ever. Okay? But I need to go. Just for a bit, you won't even know I'm gone."

"You're sick," was the stubborn response. "You're sick and you got hurt yesterday and you could get hurt again because you're sick."

It went on like that for some time, and then somehow, Matt was going too. Matt would go too, and he'd keep Garrett from getting hurt and he'd make sure he wasn't too sick and hey, they might pick up some chicken soup on the way back, just for good measure.

Elektra wasn't exactly happy about Matt babysitting Garrett while she babysat Rachel, but she could understand why her lover had volunteered. Rachel was hard to resist, even for her. Elektra, the icicle devoid of human compassion. Still, Elektra wasn't exactly happy with the arrangements. On one hand, she didn't want Matt around, because all Matt was doing was worrying about her. On the other hand, she wanted Matt around, because he worried for her and he loved her and that made it easier somehow. Aware of her displeasure, Garrett suggested that Elektra come too, because there was no immediate danger here, and Abby was more than capable of holding down the fort for a few hours.

"It'll be good. You and I can be up front, Murdock can have the whole backseat all to himself. Then we can all sing The Pina Colada Song, and you and I can play the license plate game. Not slug bug though. I'm not playing slug bug with you because you hit way too hard."

Elektra chose to stay behind and watch cartoons with the girls.

The drive to New York was long. Before, there'd always been a female hanging around somewhere to distract them. Now, they were two men in a car together with opposing philosophies on everything. Everything except Elektra.

The drive was very, very, long.

When they got to the hotel, a guy with 'Lou' on his nametag was working the lobby. He looked and dressed the part of polite employee, but had the manners of an asshole, the kind of guy Jimmy would pal around with.

"You guys together?" Lou asked after Garrett gave his name. "I can book you the honeymoon suite if you want."

Garrett waited until Lou retrieved a small suitcase from Jimmy's box before threatening to kill Lou. He expected Murdock to take issue with that, but the blind man didn't say much. They left, silently agreeing to purge that moment from their memories, then they got back in the car.

They were still in the parking lot, Garrett fumbling with the clasp on his brother's case, when his phone rang. Irritated, Garrett balanced the case on his knees, digging through his pocket until he found his cell. Again, he knew who it was without checking the screen. Only one person he knew had such annoyingly bad timing, and Elektra would dial Murdock's phone long before she called his. "Hey Chast. This is a bad time, but I'm sort of curious anyway. What are you wearing?"

The teasing stopped there. It stopped because Chastity was seriously freaked, and when Chast got serious, it meant serious problems. She told him that Janelle, his latest ex, was found dead in her apartment. Death by fucking toothpicks, sharp little toothpicks that put sharp little holes in her throat. And Janelle, hadn't Garrett taken Janelle to the Connecticut house a few times when she'd had off work and Garrett didn't have anyone to kill that week?

Garrett had the pedal on the ground and a street full of angry New Yorkers yelling about his crazy driving, and he knew they'd be too late, that the others were on their own. Elektra with her busted shoulder, Abby with too much rage and not enough skill, and Rachel, his little niece that he didn't know what to do with, that he loved more than anything in this world.

Garrett knew they'd be too late, they were hours away. He knew they'd be too late and he sure as hell wasn't a religious guy, but he prayed as he sped and weaved and endangered pedestrians. Garrett prayed and prayed hard that he was wrong, that somehow they wouldn't be too late.

Elektra was alone for the first time in days. At first, she'd spent time with Abby and Rachel, then Abby had pulled her aside and asked if she was mad at her or something. Abby couldn't recall doing anything to cause it, but Elektra kept giving her weird looks without actually looking at her, so she assumed Elektra was pissed about something.

After that, the brunette employed the most timeless of parenting tactics. Without using those exact words, Elektra told the girls to run along and play. She also told Abby to stay near the house, not to go tromping into the woods. Abby rolled her eyes.

Feeling like the '50's housewife she'd never wanted to be, Elektra wandered the house alone, half-liking, half-hating the silence within. In the kitchen, Elektra did a mental recap of recent events. She and Matt were fugitives. She was being inundated with visions of her protégé's violent death. She'd been forced to go to Garrett, Garrett of all people, for help. Garrett's niece was the Treasure, and she'd also undergone some form of psychological conditioning. Then there was Matt. Matt, who tried to kill himself, Matt, who somehow ended up torturing Burke into leaving them alone. Or promising to anyway. It wasn't a full summary, it didn't include Garrett dying of who-really-knew-what, or Maya Lopez, the player none of them had the first clue about.

There were lots of things missing from her mental recap, but Elektra made a conscious choice to leave them out. She was already dangerously close to getting into Garrett's favorite bottle of tequila, and she refused to be one of those '50's housewives who broke out the alcohol the minute the kids were out of the house.

At the living room window, Elektra scanned over the front yard. Rachel and Abby weren't by the lake, and they weren't in the backyard either, and she couldn't hear any voices. Abby, smart and strong and capable, and utterly incapable of following simple instructions. Not in the mood to form a one-woman search party, Elektra called the teen's cell phone. She could hear it ringing from upstairs. Sometimes she really felt like hurting that girl.

Elektra's hand was hovering over the knob for the backdoor when the phone she'd just pocked started to buzz. Glancing at the screen, she quickly accepted the call. "Matt?"

"Get out," Matt ordered The Man Without Fear sounded panicked. "Don't ask questions, just take the girls and get out!"

Flinging the door wide, Elektra crossed the backyard, willing Rachel and Abby to come strolling out of the woods right the hell now. He'd told her not to ask questions, but that was a stupid request. "What's happening?"

And then, not because of Kimagure, but because of some other sense she couldn't name, Elektra sensed what would happen next. From somewhere beyond the trees, a playing card came flying at her. Raising her hand, Elektra caught the item just before it would've sliced into her carotid artery. That had already happened once, and the experience hadn't been pleasant. Still holding the phone to her ear, Elektra spared a moment to examine the card between her fingers. Ace of spades. Elektra couldn't remember if that was what he'd used last time.

"Never mind," she said flatly, before Matt could explain. "I figured it out."