A long author's note, but please read!

Hi, guys! I know it's been a few months since I last posted (is anyone still here?) and I'm really sorry. Please know that if you've left a review or a PM (and some of you have sent me some really lovely ones) in the last few weeks and not gotten a reply, it's not because I'm trying to be rude. I've just been super overwhelmed, and I promise that I'll go back and reply in the next few days.

When I started writing this story almost two(!) years ago, I was comfortably employed at a job that I enjoyed, and that left me a good amount of time and energy to write in my spare time. I didn't expect when I began this fic that I would end up getting laid off and having to work multiple jobs that leave me exhausted and with very little time to write. That absolutely does not mean I'm going to abandon the story, I promise! But it does mean that I really can't afford to make writing fanfiction a top priority, so updates might be slow. So if you're tempted to leave a comment about giving up on this story, please remember that just trying to pay my rent and bills, and that I'm doing the best I can with the free time I have.

Parts of this chapter aren't what I wanted them to be, but there are other parts I'm really happy with, so I'm posting it now and I might go back and fix what I don't like later. It's a bit of a toned-down transition chapter, but I made sure to throw in a scene I've been saving for a while to make it worth the read.

PS: Thank you so much for fulfilling my birthday wish and leaving notes about your favorite scenes. Some of you surprised me—in a good way!—by citing scenes I wouldn't have guessed. The overall message I got was that you guys have really enjoyed seeing our two lovebirds get beaten up and then fix each other back up. Poor Sarah has gotten the majority of the injuries in this story it seems—the downside of being a rookie to the crime-fighting game—but expect some Matt whump soon enough.

PPS: I've gotten really bad about giving shout outs to fan works at the beginning of chapters, but there are amazing new playlists, drawings, and even a TV Tropes page for you to check out, and they're all on my profile. I'll give a proper list of who made what next chapter!

Hope you enjoy the read, sorry for the wait!

Edit: Sorry for all of the weird formatting errors/mysteriously cut-off sentences in the original version of this. I think I messed something up while uploading, but hopefully I've fixed most of them by now. Thanks to everyone who helped point them out!


If there was anything Sarah excelled at, it was avoidance.

Currently she was on her way to her dad's to fill out paperwork for his admittance into a care home, and the subject she was trying to avoid thinking about was the same one that had she'd been avoiding thinking about all week: Matt Murdock. Specifically, the uncomfortable realization that at some point she had possibly stopped thinking of him as just her friendly neighborhood vigilante.

Her plan for dealing with this newfound knowledge was to distract herself by throwing all of her effort into taking more steps towards a normal life. And one of those steps was to contact Allison about her party. She'd been thinking about it since the socialite had made the offer, and she'd finally decided that it was something she should try, at least. Fishing her phone out of her purse, she brought up Allison's email, which she had gotten from the mysteriously reappearing business card.

'Hi, Allison. If you still need someone to play piano for your fundraiser, I'd be happy to do it. Just let me know the details. -Sarah'

As soon as she hit the send button on the email, her phone dinged. Sarah frowned; even Allison wasn't that quick to reply. Looking down at her screen, she saw that it wasn't an email alert at all; it was a text message from Todd.

She hadn't talked to Todd since their lackluster date a few days ago, which she had awkwardly ditched out on to go help a bleeding masked man. So she was fairly certain his text was going to be along the lines of letting her know she owed him the cost of an overpriced dinner and gourmet coffee. Biting her lip, she opened the message.

'Had a great time the other night—sorry that you had to leave so soon. I'd love to take you out again if you're free.'

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the text suspiciously. Why on earth would Todd want to see her again after how badly last time had gone? Something must be wrong with him. Maybe he was a serial killer—was he a serial killer? Sarah paused, considering it for a minute, then shook her head. No, probably not. Maybe he just had very low standards for good dates?

Then again, just because she hadn't had the best time didn't mean he hadn't had fun. He had seemed to enjoy talking about himself and hadn't seemed too bothered by spending way too much money for a restaurant that served drinks in mason jars. And if she thought about it, the date itself hadn't really gone that badly, save for her awkward exit. It was mostly just the constant train of anxious thoughts traveling through her own head the whole time that had ruined it.

She hesitated, her thumbs hovering over the screen. The idea of a second date didn't really excite her, but it didn't fill her with dread, either. Maybe whatever fog she'd been living in wasn't going to lift on its own; maybe this discomfort was just because she hadn't been dating for a while, and it was just something she needed to push through. Could she really complain about not being able to live a normal life if she wasn't even willing to put in the effort of going on a second date?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly drafted a reply text that she thought sounded like something a normal person would send.

As she slipped her phone back into her purse, she was caught off guard when someone holding flyers stepped into her path. Sarah automatically began to shake her head, thinking this was another person trying to cajole her into coming to their soul cycle class or buying their mix CD. But when she looked up, it was a middle-aged woman with glasses and dark hair peppered with grey.

"I'm looking for my son; he's missing," the woman said, pressing the paper into her hands. "Please—take a flyer."

Sarah glanced down at the handout, expecting to see a photo of a child, and froze when she saw Aaron McDermott's face looking back up at her instead. She stopped in her tracks so quickly that an elderly man walking behind her knocked into her, swearing at her as he continued on his way.

"Have you seen him?" the woman—McDermott's mother—asked eagerly, encouraged by Sarah's strong reaction to the photo.

Sarah finally managed to tear her eyes away from the familiar face on the flyer. "No, I'm sorry. I—I just wasn't expecting to see…"

"A police officer?" she finished for her. "I know. He's missing. He's been missing for weeks and weeks now. His work says they're doing everything they can, but if that's true why haven't they found him yet?" Mrs. McDermott asked, a pleading note in her tone that people got when they knew no one had answers for them, but were desperate for one anyway.

"I'm—I'm sorry," Sarah said, not knowing what else to say. "I'm so sorry."

"He's my only child," she confided. It was information Sarah immediately wished she didn't know. "I spoiled him growing up."

Sarah averted her gaze, looking away from Mrs. McDermott and back down at the photo, but it didn't help. It didn't matter if she looked at the woman in front of her or the man on the flyer; either way she was met with the same pair of eyes.

Of course McDermott hadn't existed in a vacuum; he'd had family, friends. For all she knew, Ronan had probably had family somewhere as well. They had both occupied a space on this planet that didn't just consist of making her life miserable—although they both certainly had done that.

"If you see or hear anything about him—please contact me," she implored Sarah.

Sarah's throat was tight, and she only managed to nod before quickly continuing down the sidewalk. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that McDermott's mother had already latched onto another pair of passersby, fervently explaining her situation to them as they awkwardly tried to keep walking.

She tore her eyes away from them and turned forwards again, but the encounter lingered with her for a long time.


Later that night, Matt also had an incident that shook him—for different reasons.

He had been trying to track down a group that had been targeting medical supply shipments at the docks to sell the drugs themselves for much higher. The guy he'd caught up with that night was low-level in the group, he could tell. But he definitely knew who the others involved group, and Matt was willing to bet that it wouldn't take too much effort to get it out of him. He was small and shifty, the type to say whatever he had to to get out of the situation in one piece. Getting people like him to talk was never a problem—parsing out what was the truth and what was bullshit was a little harder.

However, his current situation of being pinned to a wall with Daredevil's forearm across his windpipe also seemed to encourage him to cooperate.

Intending to intercept the next robbery, Matt mainly wanted to find out the when and where so that he could crash the party.

"Tell me what your bosses have pl—"

Matt froze in the middle of his sentence as he heard a familiar sound. Past the sound of the man's heartbeat and labored breathing, he recognized a heartbeat he knew, one that he hadn't heard since its last surprise appearance the year before.

Stick.

Matt faltered, caught off guard. He turned his head, frantically trying to place where he'd just heard the sound coming from.

His sudden silence confused the man he was interrogating.

"Was…was that the whole question—?" the man asked nervously.

Matt shoved him harder against the wall.

"Shut up," he growled, still listening for another snatch of heartbeat, the click of a cane against pavement. He strained his ears, but didn't pick up on anything.

He shook his head, cursing internally. He didn't need to be losing his focus over a trick of his imagination.

Turning his attention back to the man in front of him, Matt resumed his interrogation, obtaining the information he needed without too much trouble. He called it a night after that, returning to his apartment with the strange incident still on his mind.


His off mood stuck with him through to his training session with Sarah the next evening.

Matt was still recovering from the wound across his stomach, so they stuck to the punching bag and skipped the sparring. That was probably a good thing in Matt's opinion, as he was still having some difficulty keeping his mind off of the events of the other night, including the unmistakable uptick in Sarah's heartbeat when she'd touched him. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed her reactions to him lately, but this one couldn't be dismissed as easily as the moments during their training sessions could, where the exercise already had her heartbeat elevated and her skin flushed. This had been different, and part of him was itching to pull at that thread.

Of course, he was painfully aware that wasn't an option, but it was harder to remember that when they were sparring and his hands were on her waist or her back was pressed against his chest, with sweat on her skin and blood racing loudly in his ears. So it was lucky for him that he had the excuse of new stitches to avoid that scenario.

It was probably also lucky for Sarah, because she was off that evening, quiet and distracted. Matt didn't ask her about it, figuring she'd come out with it on her own if she felt like it.

Sure enough, midway through their lesson she stepped back from the punching bag to take a few breaths.

"I met McDermott's mother today," she said suddenly.

Whatever Matt had been expecting, that wasn't it. "What?"

"She's—she's been passing out these missing flyers around town," Sarah explained. "She thinks that the police department isn't doing enough to find out what happened to him. Which is fair, I guess, since Jason hasn't been arrested, and neither have I."

Matt's brow furrowed at the inclusion of Jason and Sarah in the same group, as though their crimes had been weighted equally.

"Police in Hell's Kitchen aren't generally known for lending a sympathetic ear to the families of victims. If they haven't made a connection to Orion yet, I doubt they're going to any time soon," he said. It wasn't much of a comfort, but it was something.

"No, that's not the—the issue," Sarah said, running her hands through her hair tiredly before sighing. "I don't know. Nevermind."

She stepped towards the bag and resumed practicing. She still didn't have much power behind her punches—which wasn't surprising given her build—but she was quick, and her form was noticeably better than it had been when they started training.

When they were done, Sarah stretched out on one of the benches tiredly while Matt re-wrapped his hands.

"Hey, are you going to teach me how to use those baton things you're always throwing at people?" she asked curiously.

Matt hesitated. When practicing hand-to-hand in the ring was easy for him to be mindful of how hard he was landing his punches, always pulling them before they could do any actual harm. But it would be harder with the batons to judge how much force he was putting into each hit.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "You do like hitting people with things."

"Why you'd pick batons? I mean, out of all the cool stuff you could throw at bad guys."

"It's just what I was trained with. I stopped using them for a long time, but Stick reintroduced me to them last year and they ended up being pretty useful."

He heard her sit up, and could tell she was looking at him more intently.

"Last year? I didn't realize he was still around."

Matt bit back a grimace; he hadn't meant to wander into this conversational territory, and particularly not after his odd encounter the night before.

"He's not," Matt said shortly. "It was a one-time thing. Otherwise he's stayed away the last twenty years."

"…why?" she asked hesitantly, clearly aware she might be treading on dangerous ground.

Matt answered reluctantly. "I made a mistake, and…he left."

"You were just a kid, what kind of mistake could you possibly have made?" she asked slowly.

"Nothing you need to worry about." He hadn't intended to snap the words, but that was how it came out, his frustration with Stick creeping into his tone.

Sarah faltered, seeming surprised by his harsh reaction.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Sorry."

Matt made himself take a deep breath as he unwound the tape from his hands. It wasn't Sarah's fault that the mention of Stick made his stomach clench—and she had no way of knowing the topic had already been stressing him out lately.

He turned to apologize, then frowned when he picked up on movement. She was rubbing her shoulder, her head craned to the other side. Without the sparring portion of their lesson, they'd spent more time than usual on the punching bag; the repetition had probably put a strain on her socket.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She stepped to the side, avoiding his hand as she went to grab her gym bag. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He paused. She didn't sound angry, but she was definitely closed off—probably, he through ruefully, because of how things with Stick looked from her perspective: yet another person in his life that he was adamant about keeping her away from. He knew he should explain that she wasn't the part of the equation that made him nervous. Sarah was exactly what Stick had always told him he couldn't afford to have in his life, and he could only imagine how disastrous it would be if those two worlds collided.

But explaining that would mean getting much deeper into the subject of Stick than he wanted to. It wasn't something he liked thinking about, much less talking about. It had been difficult enough to get out the very brief explanation he'd been forced to give Foggy the night he'd discovered his identity.

"You should take a couple of days if you're sore," Matt said, hoping to move past the awkward bump in the conversation. "We could go again on Friday."

"Uh, I…can't. I have a date," she said uncomfortably, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Matt kept his face carefully neutral, hoping his expression didn't betray the way his stomach dropped.

"Oh," he said, the nonchalance in his voice sounding painfully contrived even to him. "With the, uh…with the same guy?"

"Yeah," Sarah said. "I didn't really think there'd be a second date after I ran out on the first one, but…"

She trailed off with a shrug. To be honest, Matt hadn't really thought there'd be a second date either, and a selfish part of him had been relieved.

"That's…great," Matt lied, flashing her what he hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm glad it worked out."

"Yeah, me too," she agreed, though her enthusiasm sounded lacking. He heard her shoulder her gym bag in preparation to leave. "Are you coming?"

"Uh…no," he said, gesturing towards his newly re-wrapped hands. "I'm going to stick around a while longer."

"Okay," she said. Her breathing changed, as though there were something else she wanted to say, but she didn't.

Matt nodded, and she left.

He waited until she was to the end of the block before he began, and if he was hitting the bag a little harder than normal, it was just due to a bad week.


Sarah's second date with Todd immediately started off on the wrong foot—for Sarah, at least. She'd gone into it with high hopes, doing her hair and makeup early and selecting a dark blue dress that was backless save for a thin t-strap running down her spine.

Todd was as genial as he had been on their first date, but Sarah couldn't keep her mind from wandering to more stressful subjects. It bounced from work to her dad to the email she'd sent Allison—to which Allison had excitedly replied with a list of songs she'd like Sarah to play, inadvertently reminding Sarah that she had little free time to practice, no place to do it, and a years worth of not having touched a piano—while occasionally focusing on the man sitting across the table from her.

The first obstacle of the evening came when the restaurant Todd brought her to ended up being an upscale seafood restaurant, and she didn't have the heart—or was it the spine?—to tell him that she hated seafood. Todd didn't seem bothered when she only ordered a salad, though he did repeatedly insist that she try the dish he'd ordered.

The second problem presented itself when Todd ordered a bottle of expensive wine for them at the beginning of the meal. The server was already about to step away to fetch it when she spoke up quickly.

"Oh, um…I actually don't think I'm going to be drinking tonight," Sarah said carefully. She didn't want to say anything that screamed, I maybe have a drinking problem.

"Are you sure?" Todd pressed. "This wine is really great, I get it every time."

"I'm sure."

"Trust me, whatever you're used to drinking, this will blow it out of the water. It has these great fruit-flavored undertones and this clean finish that blends amazingly," he said.

Sarah glanced at the waiter, trying to discern if any of that description was supposed to mean something to her. Her requirements for wine—for most alcohol, really—fell mostly along the lines of cheap and strong. The waiter just nodded politely in agreement with whatever nonsense Todd had just spouted off.

"It sounds great, but I'm good," Sarah said with a smile. "Thank you, though."

Looking to change the subject, she asked Todd about his family. He went off on a long story, and they had ended up on the subject of his mother always insisting on being sent copies of every photo shoot he did. Sarah thought it was sweet of his mom, but it wasn't really something she could relate to. She nodded and smiled all the same, hoping at some point there would be some topic they could actually connect on.

"…but you know how mothers are," Todd finished. "Their kids are the center of their world, right?"

Sarah nodded, but she couldn't stop the image of Mrs. McDermott's distraught face from coming to mind.

"He's my only child. I spoiled him growing up."

"Right," she said softly.

"What about your mom? Does she live in the city?"

"Uh…no. She lives in Arizona, I think," Sarah said, still thinking about McDermott. She bit her lip, then made a split second decision. "You know, I think…I think maybe I would like to try that wine you were talking about."

As soon as she said it, she almost took it back.

"Fantastic," he said, brightening immediately. "I'll let the waiter know."

Todd did most of the talking, which was mostly fine with her, as there weren't many parts of her life that she could really share with him. Drinking had always been a way for her to calm her nerves and talk to people more easily, so she had high hopes when she sipped from her first glass and felt that familiar rush of warmth spread through her. She could do this—it was just a date, like she'd gone on in her old life. No big deal.

The wine worked its magic on her nerves, allowing her thoughts to slow down and stay with the conversation instead of wandering off, and she found herself allowing the server to pour a second glass when she was done with her first one. She was finished with her salad much quicker than Todd was done with his food—a Chilean sea bass with champagne truffle sauce, he'd informed her excitedly—leaving her with little to do to do besides listen and sip at her drink.

When the check came, Todd brushed aside her offers to pay her half, insisting on picking up the bill again.

Sarah swayed slightly when she stood, much to her surprise. She'd only had a couple glasses of wine—albeit, heavily poured glasses—which would normally just give her a pleasantly strong buzz. A few glasses of wine was what she'd used to drink before a date just to kill her nerves. But she hadn't calculated for how much her alcohol tolerance had lowered after several weeks of not drinking, and that combined with the small amount of food she'd eaten had brought her well past the point of tipsy without her really noticing.

"If you're up for it, there's actually a place in your neck of the woods that I've been wanting to check out."

"Oh, I…I think I might have had enough to drink tonight," Sarah told him. Her guilt over breaking her resolution to stay sober was slowly clawing through the warm haze of alcohol she was wrapped in.

"You don't have to drink," he said. "They have bar food."

Tempted by the idea of food that wasn't a salad and encouraged by the wine pumping though her, Sarah agreed, and Todd hailed a cab to take them there.

Sarah had been expecting another upscale establishment—maybe one of those bars that also served scented oxygen or some other trend that Todd was into. So she was surprised when they got out of the cab and he pointed to the bar at the end of the block. There were several less-than-friendly looking patrons lounging on the small patio outside, and none of them were dressed anything like Todd and Sarah were.

"Um…are you sure this is the place you heard about?" she asked him, wondering if maybe he'd gotten the address wrong.

"Yeah, this is it," Todd said. He seemed completely oblivious to the vibes she was picking up on.

"It doesn't really seem like a place you'd go to," she said slowly.

"Well, I've never actually been here before. My friend Chase told me about it, though. He always has his finger on the pulse of things—he called food trucks being a thing back in, like, '02. And he says this bar will be on everyone's list of places to be in a year or two."

"Great, so…let's come back in two years?" she suggested.

"No, come on," he implored her with a teasing grin. "Let's be adventurous."

Sarah stared at him as she slowly realized this was what adventure was to someone like him. Slumming it in a dangerous part of town for a night before returning to whatever expensive, door-manned apartment he lived in. He honestly didn't seem to understand that his clean-shaven, designer look wouldn't go over well in a bar like that—nevermind the reaction her own outfit might get.

"No, thanks," she said firmly.

She was relieved when Todd nodded in understanding, though he still looked disappointed.

"Okay. That's alright. Maybe another time."

"I'm sorry," she said, touching his arm lightly. "Maybe we could go somewhere else?"

"It's no big deal," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. He glanced down at her hand on his arm and stepped a little closer. "You know, it's actually…pretty nice out here, too."

It was obvious that Todd was going to kiss her, and while the idea wasn't particularly off-putting, it also wasn't very exciting. Sarah realized as he pressed his lips against hers that total apathy probably wasn't what she should aim for, and she desperately tried to feel anything else. She felt a flicker of something in her chest, but she was hopeful that it was that spark of exhilaration that came with kissing someone new. Something told her it wasn't, but she ignored it, choosing to return the kiss.

Apparently encouraged by her half-hearted response, Todd moved even closer, resting one hand on the small of her back and sliding the other up to cup the side of her neck as he kissed her more aggressively.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that Ronan was never far from her thoughts, but as soon as Todd's hand touched her throat, her mind instantly flashed to the last time someone's mouth had been on hers. Instead of kissing Todd, she was back in the lobby of Orion with the taste of Ronan's blood in her mouth and rough hands digging into her already bleeding skin. The expensive cologne that Todd wore just a little too much of was replaced by the smell of stale cigarettes, overwhelming her and sending her heart rate skyrocketing—and not in the way it was supposed to while being kissed.

The small flicker she'd felt earlier flared up in full force, and she finally recognized it not as excitement, but as inexplicably enough as panic, rising quickly and unstoppably in her chest.

As her mind froze, her body acted of its own accord. Almost as though someone else were operating her hands, she slammed them Todd's chest, shoving him away from her. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, then let out a hiss of pain as he whacked his head on the corner of the low-hanging metal street sign next to them.

Sarah breathed in shakily, reorienting herself. She wasn't at Orion, she was standing on a street corner, and no one was trying to hurt her. Her heart stopped racing almost as soon as she put some distance between the two of them, and as her head cleared she felt her face flush with embarrassment.

"What the hell?" Todd exclaimed as he rubbed back of his head. Sarah was relieved to see there was no blood on his hand when he brought it back down again.

"Sorry," she said abruptly. "I'm—I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

"What just happened? Did I misread that or were you kissing me back just now?"

"I—I was. I'm sorry, I wasn't—I just—" She could still feel her face burning as she tried to explain. "Is—is your head okay?"

"Uh, no," Todd replied incredulously. "It hurts, because you shoved me into a street sign like a lunatic."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. "It's—I wasn't thinking about you—" she tried to explain, but realized even as she said it that it was the wrong thing.

"Well, that makes things better."

"No, that's not what I mean—"

"Listen, I'm not into playing games, so if that's what you're doing—" he began.

"What?" Sarah said. "No, I wasn't trying to play games, I just…"

He was still looking at her like she was insane. "Just what?"

There was absolutely no chance she was going to give him an honest explanation. It didn't really matter anyway, did it? She'd known from the second he kissed her and she'd felt nothing that there wouldn't be a third date, and this had only solidified it.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "I…think we were just m-moving faster…than I wanted to."

Todd cast his eyes up to the sky and sighed deeply. "Okay. Sure. Whatever. Just don't do…whatever girls do where they make up some crazy story in their head, okay? You were definitely kissing me back."

Sarah bristled at the implication. "You don't have to be such an asshole about it."

"I'm being an asshole? That's really rich. You know, Lauren and Greg said you were this cool girl that I could have fun with. But you run out on our first date with some ridiculous explanation, and now you give me all of these signals to kiss you and then freak out on me and call me names," Todd said, laughing incredulously. "Listen, you're a cute girl, and I thought we could have a good time together, but…I'm not looking for drama right now. Whatever kind of craziness you have…I'm not interested."

Sarah pressed her lips together, taking a deep breath before answering.

"I'm not crazy," she said softly.

"Yeah, okay," Todd said, holding his hands up. "Just…have a good night."

Then he walked away. A dozen angry retorts danced on the tip of her tongue, but shouting after him on a public street wasn't going to make her feel any better. Instead she just swore under her breath as she watched him hail a cab and disappear.

Left alone, she took stock of her situation: she didn't have money to spare on a cab, the subway was almost as far of a walk as her apartment was, and she was wearing very uncomfortable heels. To make matters worse, the ground was beginning to look like it was spinning slightly.

Casting around for a safe place to sit, she spotted a low wall set back against a bank. It looked clean, and it was shadowy enough that she wouldn't draw attention. She made her way over to it unsteadily, bringing out her phone as she sat down with little grace.

She dialed Matt's burner phone, but it just rang until his nondescript automated voicemail came on. Sarah hung up before the beep, not intending to leave another inebriated message on his phone. She hoped he was just busy running around rooftops and not hurt somewhere.

Wanting to give herself just a few more minutes to let the spinning sensation pass, Sarah remained on the steps. She tiredly reached up to slip the bobby pins out of her hair one by one, letting it tumble down around her shoulders before lowering her head into her hands. She swallowed hard, hoping to fend off the stinging sensation in her eyes, but it was too late; she was already crying.

This wasn't her. She wasn't sixteen anymore; didn't cry over bad dates. And there was no point in pretending like she had even liked Todd, as hard as she had tried to. But she couldn't get around the fact that she so spectacularly messed up what should have been a fun, simple night. Normal things like this were supposed to be the easiest part of leaving Orion: dating again, helping her dad with his health, getting back into playing piano. And now none of those things were going the way she had thought. The help that her dad needed was buried under mountains of paperwork and red tape; she'd jumped the gun on returning to music with no way to prepare for it; and now she'd just chased away what she was sure was the most normal date she'd manage to find. And over what? Something that had almost happened to her, with a completely different person, months ago? Someone who was now dead and shouldn't justifiably still be such a looming presence in her life?

She couldn't help but think that this was some sort of twisted karma. This was what she got for not feeling guilty over Ronan's death: he would never, ever leave her. The feel of his hands would constantly be on her skin, his shadow would loom over every relationship she had from now on.

The sound of her phone ringing snapped her out of her thoughts. She knew who it was even before she read the screen.

"Matt. Hi."

"Hey. What's wrong?" he said, picking up immediately on the unevenness in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I was just, um…" Sarah pressed her lips into a hard line, casting her eyes upwards. This was pathetic. Was she really going to make him deal with her while she was drunk and crying?

"Sarah?" Matt prompted her, the concern in his voice stronger now.

"I was wondering if…you'd please come walk me home," she said softly. She really hoped he wouldn't ask her any questions, because she didn't feel like explaining things over the phone.

"Where are you?"

"Um…near the corner of 39th and 10th."

There was a short pause after she named the cross streets.

"Okay. I'll be right there."

Sarah closed her eyes as the phone line went dead, for once thankful for the taciturn nature of Matt's alter ego. No questions asked beyond the essentials. Knowing that she wouldn't have to go home alone helped to ease the overwhelming hopelessness that had washed over her.

A short while later, she heard the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground behind her and jumped slightly. She should have expected that Matt would drop in from the overhang sheltering the steps; it's not like he could just waltz down the middle of the street to come get her. She turned to look up at him as he drew closer.

"Hi," she greeted him quietly. "I, um…I just need a minute to—to be less…dizzy before we go." She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes for a moment. Maybe she should have had more to eat.

Matt crouched down in front of where she was sitting on the wall so that he was eye level with her. His Daredevil mask was obscuring the top half of his face, but she knew even without being able to see it that his brow was furrowed in concern. He gently pushed her hair back from where it was hanging in front of her face.

"You've…been drinking."

It wasn't a question, but Sarah nodded yes anyway.

"Where's Todd?"

"He left."

Matt cocked his head in disbelief. "He left you here? By yourself?"

Sarah nodded again, then stopped. Nodding so much was making her more dizzy, so that it looked like there were two Matts in front of her with their mouths set into hard, unhappy lines.

"Yeah, that's…that's done," she said, her words slurring a little at the end. "I screwed that up."

"What hap—"

"Matt, if you don't ask me any questions until I get home and have some water, I swear I will answer whatever you want me to," she said.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll be taking you up on that."

After another minute of regaining her equilibrium, Sarah figured she was steady enough for the walk home.

"You ready?" Matt asked, holding his hand out for her.

"Yeah."

When she'd called the vigilante to come help her, she hadn't thought about the fact that the alcohol pumping through her system would make it that much harder to ignore the thoughts she'd been having about him lately. But that quickly became apparent when Matt stood, pulling her to her feet along with him. His other hand was already at her waist, anticipating the slight sway in her movements as she stood up. She couldn't help but notice that even with his gloves on she could feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of her dress, and she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed when he let go after she found her footing.

"Are you okay to walk all the way?"

"Yes," she said adamantly. "I'm good. Really. It's just the heels."

They didn't talk as they made the walk back to her apartment. Matt kept close to her, occasionally putting out a hand to steady her.

The first thing Sarah did upon entering her apartment was to clumsily kick off her heels, wincing at the blisters she could already feel forming as she padded over to the fire escape window to let Matt in. She'd nearly forgotten that he was in his Daredevil costume until he'd reminded her that he wouldn't be able to go in through the front door with her.

She closed her eyes for a second, leaning back against the windowsill and breathing in deep, wishing she hadn't done this to herself tonight.

"Here," Matt said quietly, and she opened her eyes to see him holding out a glass of water. She hadn't even heard him moving around.

"Thank you," she said, gratefully accepting the glass and taking a long drink from it. She could only hope it was help mitigate the unavoidable hangover she would have tomorrow. Wine always gave her the worst hangovers.

Sarah set the glass down carefully, then slipped her earrings off, setting them on the table as well before reaching behind her to undo her necklace. She fumbled with the clasp on the chain, but it had gotten tangled in the halter strap of her dress. With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder at Matt hopefully.

"Could you…?"

Matt carefully swept her hair to the side and over her shoulder. Sarah was very aware of how close he was, just inches away from the exposed skin of her back where her dress dipped low. She closed her eyes as she felt the warmth of his hands working to detangle the delicate chain.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I don't even know how it got like this."

Matt laughed, and she felt his breath ghost across the back of her neck. She hoped he didn't notice the shiver it sent through her, but the way his fingers paused for a second made her suspect that he did.

A minute later the necklace was untangled. Matt held it out for her and she accepted it as she turned back around to face him.

"Thanks," she said quietly. The space between them was small enough that she had to tilt her head back a fraction to look up at him. For a beat neither of them moved.

Matt cleared his throat and took a deliberate step back, putting some more distance between the two of them.

"You should, uh…drink some more water," he said, his voice tight. "Sober up."

"Right," she agreed quickly. Then she gestured at her outfit. "Um…I'm going to go change out of this first."

She stole a look back at him just before the doorway to her room. He had one hand on his hip as he ran the other through his hair, shaking his head at himself.

Her bedroom was a disaster zone of clothing due to a mix of date preparation and laundry laziness. She unzipped her dress and let it slide to the floor, then dug through her clothing till she found a tank top and a pair of pajama shorts to change into. She looked for a sweatshirt in vain, already knowing that they were all dirty or buried under a mountain of dresses and skirts, until one in particular caught her eye. It was much too large and had Columbia stitched across the front.

She traced her fingers over the embroidered letters, then impulsively grabbed the sweatshirt out of her drawer and slipped it on.

Maybe he won't notice, she thought, kicking some clothing aside as she opened the door to her bedroom. Even if he did, she didn't think she'd particularly mind.

Matt noticed immediately, his eyebrows going up as soon as she came near him. He reached out to catch the edge of one of the sleeves in his fingers.

"I have a distant memory of this belonging to someone else."

"Mmm, no, I don't think so," she said with a guilty laugh, sidestepping him and heading into the kitchen. "Obviously I would have given it back by now if it wasn't mine."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him as he trailed her into the room.

"Didn't you just come from a dinner date?"

"I didn't eat anything," Sarah said. "He took me to this fancy seafood place, and I don't like seafood."

"No?"

"No," Sarah said, wrinkling her nose as she dug through the contents of her fridge. Why did it seem like she had nothing but condiments in here? "It's all just…ugh, trash. Expensive ocean trash."

"So, what are you making?"

She surveyed what little she had in her fridge.

"Uh…grilled cheese," she decided, more out of a lack of other options than anything else.

As she turned on the stove top, Matt leaned back against the counter next to her. He didn't say anything while she messed with the pan and the ingredients, but she could feel it coming. She could sense a Matt Murdock interrogation a mile away by now.

"Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?" he asked quietly.

Sarah bit her lip. Now that she was home and a little less drunk, she felt like she'd been embarrassingly dramatic earlier, and she didn't want Matt to think things had gone worse than they had.

"It was nothing, really," she said. "Just…run-of-the-mill bad date stuff."

Matt tilted his head, unseeing eyes flicking over her in that way that made her feel like she was being x-rayed.

"Stop that," she told him, pointing her spatula at him in a vaguely threatening manner.

"What?" he asked, leaning back to avoid the utensil.

"Listening to my heartbeat. I know that's what you're doing, and that's my own—you know…cardiovascular…business."

"I don't have to bother with your heartbeat. You really think I couldn't tell you'd been crying when I got there? And I've seen you deal with a lot of shitty situations without crying, so I don't think that a boring date is what does the trick. What did he do?"

Sarah chewed her lip, focusing on the stove instead of him. "He didn't do anything. It was me."

"I find that hard to believe."

Sarah didn't even know where to begin trying to explain. She wasn't even really sure what had happened herself, except that Todd had set off some alarm in her head for no reason, made her lose her sense of where she was for a few seconds. But she didn't particularly want to go into detail about Todd kissing her, and she really didn't want to talk about flashing back to her encounter with Ronan, but it was unavoidable if she was going to explain the reaction she'd had.

"It turns out that killing Ronan doesn't magically make him go away," she said, barely audibly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw realization slowly dawn on Matt's face, his jaw tightening. "I just…I got mixed up. Only for a few seconds. About who I was with." She struggled with how to word it without sounding crazy, but she wasn't sure if she was making any sense or if it was all just coming out as drunken fragments. "Like it said, it…it was me."

"That's not your fault."

"No, it kind of is," she said.

"How do you figure?"

She thought about telling him her theory: That maybe this was her punishment for not feeling guiltier about Ronan's death, and for not feeling guilty about McDermott until one of his family members was right in front of her. She'd killed Ronan, and now the feel of his hands on her skin was just going to stick with her forever.

"I don't know," she lied. "I guess because I'd been drinking. Again. And I wasn't very, um…honest with Todd. About what I was comfortable with."

"I take it he didn't react well."

Sarah gave a rueful laugh. "No. I wasn't about to tell him that I thought he was my dead stalker. I didn't really give him any explanation at all, so…he just thinks I'm a crazy bitch," she said bitterly.

Matt was quiet for a moment.

"Did he call you that?"

The deadly calm in his voice caught her attention, and she flicked her gaze over towards him. His expression was misleadingly calm, save for the current of agitation running from the tick in his jaw down to his fingers, which drummed slowly against the counter top.

"No," she said quickly. It was half-true. He hadn't called her a bitch, although she almost would have preferred that to being called crazy.

Matt nodded slowly, but didn't look convinced.

"Why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

"No reason."

"Matt," she said warningly. "He was a jerk, but he doesn't deserve to get…Daredeviled for making me cry."

"You're right," Matt agreed, and for a moment she was relieved. "But…leaving you drunk and alone on a dark street corner in a dangerous part of town late at night?" He shrugged. "Maybe warrants a chat."

"I don't think it does." She was fairly certain he wasn't actually intending to do anything to Todd, but she could never be entirely sure with him.

"Do you know what kind of area he brought you to? You know better than anyone what kind of people you could have run into at night in Hell's Kitchen, especially in that part of town."

"He probably thought I would just get a cab," she said weakly. She didn't know why she was defending Todd's actions. Maybe it was because he'd accused her of playing the victim, and she wanted to prove that she wasn't.

"Mhm."

"Hey." Sarah reached up and gently ran her fingers from his temple down his jaw. She knew she probably shouldn't; but she was drunk and didn't particularly care. "I appreciate the…very considerate offer of violence. But we went over this. You can't possibly punch every problem I have."

Matt's expression remained dark for another moment before he sighed begrudgingly. The hard set of his jaw relaxed slightly as he leaned into her touch.

"I can try," he said seriously, but the tight anger that had been in his voice a moment ago had faded. Then he frowned, tilting his head. "I think your sandwich is burning."

Sarah snapped her attention back to the stove.

"Damn it," she muttered, quickly moving the sandwich off the hot pan and onto a plate. Shaking her head at her dismal drunk-cooking skills, she tossed another piece of bread in the pan.

A few minutes later she was done. She handed him the better of the two sandwiches. He took it, then made a face, nodding towards the plate she was holding.

"I'll take the burnt one off your hands," he offered.

"Mm-mm," she said, leaning back and holding the plate out of his reach. "I'm not making the guy with super taste buds eat burnt food. That's just mean."

"Suit yourself."

Sarah grabbed her plate and water glass and slowly lowered herself to the ground, sitting with her back against the cabinets and her legs stretched out in front of her.

"You do have a kitchen table," Matt noted from above her.

"Too far away," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

With a sigh, Matt sat down next to her, and she turned to look at him.

"Thanks for coming to get me," she said quietly. "I owe you one for having to deal with drunk me again."

"As long as you're not forcing me to drink cheap vodka again, I can handle it," he said, raising his eyebrows pointedly with a small grin before his expression grew serious again. "I'm sorry your night went so badly."

"It got better. This…is better," she said carefully.

He tilted his head, throwing a doubtful look in her general direction.

"Really?" he said dryly. "Grilled cheese on your kitchen floor instead of lobster at a nice restaurant?"

"Well, yeah," she acknowledge with a laugh. "But I meant all of it. The food. The company," she said, drawing a small grin that played across Matt's lips. "The clothing is definitely more comfortable."

His grin curled into something resembling more of a smirk.

"I don't know, I kind of liked your other outfit," he said innocently.

Sarah bit her lip, shaking her head. Surely, she thought, surely, he just said these things sometimes to enjoy hearing her reaction.

"You're just saying that because you want your sweatshirt back," she retorted.

Matt laughed, but shook his head. "It's yours."

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Sarah turned her head to see a tiny pair of beady eyes watching curiously from under the fridge. She hadn't seen the tiny mouse in a while, and she was glad he was still around.

Sarah discreetly tore of a tiny piece and tossed it in the mouse's direction, then pressed her fingers to her lips. Despite what she thought was impressive sneakiness, Matt raised an eyebrow at her, nodding in the small rodent's direction.

"Are you really sharing your sandwich with a mouse?"

"He's hungry," she told him. "I think he's been drinking."

Matt snorted but didn't protest any more.

She let her thoughts wander as she idly watched the mouse creep towards the crust. She couldn't stop thinking about how embarrassed she had been tonight, and it was making her second guess some of the decisions she'd made lately.

"I think…maybe I jumped in too quickly with all of this normal life stuff," she said, breaking the silence. "I didn't even really like Todd, I just…wanted to know I could do something as simple as go out on a date. And it turns out I can't. And I—I said I'd do this dumb fundraiser without really thinking through the million ways I could mess that up, too—"

"You agreed to play at that?" Matt interrupted her. "Your friend's party?"

"I did," she said reluctantly. Any excitement she'd had about the prospect had been swallowed up by anxiety.

"That's fantastic," he said. His genuine enthusiasm made her smile weakly despite herself. "…isn't it?"

"I thought so, but I…I think I might see if it's not too late to back out," she decided, picking at the sandwich on her plate. "I didn't even think about the fact that there were be specific songs she'll want me to play, and that I don't even have anywhere to practice. Everywhere I used to go is either booked or too expensive for me now. And—and I still don't even know how to pronounce this stupid disease they're raising money for—I don't even know what it is, really. I think it, like, makes you bite your fingers off or something, I don't know—"

"I don't think they'll quiz you on it," Matt said, gently cutting off the beginning of a ramble. "Don't cancel."

Sarah eyed him for a moment before making a noncommittal noise and looking back down at her food.

Matt reached over, tugging lightly at one of the drawstrings on the sweatshirt she was wearing. "Do you remember the night I lent you this?"

Sarah gave him an incredulous look, a laugh bursting from lips.

"Do you?" she asked. "I wasn't the one who had a zillion pounds of scaffolding land on my head."

"Admittedly parts of it are still blurry," he said with a chuckle, before sobering up again. "But…I do remember how much you really didn't want to be there."

Sarah tilted her head, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

"You didn't want me there, either," she pointed out, recalling the dark bruise he'd left on her back when he'd pinned her to the doorway. So different from the way Matt always touched her now, as though trying to erase more rough hands he had put on her.

"Definitely not. You were probably the last person I wanted in my apartment when I woke up," he agreed bluntly. Sarah gave him a vaguely offended look on behalf of her past self. "But you…you wanted to leave because you were afraid. I could hear your heartbeat echoing all around my apartment it was so fast. Like you'd rather have been anywhere but there."

"Why are we talking about this?" she asked softly.

"Because you stayed and helped me anyway. And I thought that was…impressive."

"No, see, this is where me not being the concussed one that night wins out, memory-wise," she said with a firm shake of her head. "You were not impressed. You were mostly just annoyed that Foggy and I pushed you around in a dirty shopping cart."

"I forgot you did that," Matt said with a brief frown. Sarah shrugged. "That aside, the point was…I've never known you to not do something just because you were afraid. Sometimes to the point of being slightly infuriating. Like insisting on staying in your apartment despite several offers to stay somewhere safer," he said pointedly. "And I have no doubt that you'll find a way to get past this, too."

Sarah leaned her head back against the cabinet, smiling as she studied him.

"You've got a pretty good memory for a guy who's always getting kicked in the head."

"Some things are a little fuzzy," he acknowledged. Then, after a pause, he added, "You know what I do remember from that night?"

"What?"

"Asking you what you had me saved as in your phone," he said pointedly.

Sarah blinked, then looked over at him.

"Did—did you ask about that?" she asked innocently.

"I did," he confirmed. "And I remember you made some joke instead of answering, but I let it slide because I thought there was no way you'd have me saved as something ridiculously obvious. Like, say…a tiny cartoon devil. "

"Lauren," she grumbled.

"Have you really had me saved as that this whole time?"

"Um…" Sarah began, giving a guilty shrug. Upon seeing the scowl on Matt's face, she changed tactics. "I would like to remind you that I have been crying, so…it would be mean of you to yell at me right now."

"Nice try." He reached over and slipped her phone out of the front pocket of her sweatshirt, then held it out for her to take. "Change it," he told her firmly.

"Fine," she mumbled, taking the phone and tapping at the screen.

"Not to Leonard," he added.

Sarah's fingers paused, then with a sigh she hit the backspace button a few times.

"You take the fun out of everything."

Matt smirked, opening his mouth to reply until something outside caught his attention and he paused. He tilted his head fractionally, like a satellite dish picking up a signal. Sarah watched him curiously, wondering what he was hearing. After a few seconds, he turned back to her.

"I gotta go," he said.

Sarah nodded. "Stay safe."

Matt hesitated when he got to the window.

"Things will be alright," he said. "Okay? Just…give it some time."

Despite everything indicating otherwise, she decided to believe him, at least for right now.


Sarah hadn't heard much from Matt over the weekend, save for a quick text checking on her the morning after her date. But beyond that it had largely been radio silence, and while she told herself it was just because he was busy leading two full time lives there was a small part of her that still worried he was avoiding her for whatever reason. And that reason was probably that he could pick up on her embarrassingly obvious reactions to him lately, and he was staying far away from that potential disaster. Which is really what she should do as well, if she was smart.

He didn't contact her again until Tuesday evening, when she was on her way to the subway after work. Her day had been long and stressful, and she'd just been thinking about slipping into a pair of sweatpants and taking a nap on her couch when her phone rang.

"Hi," she answered.

"Hey. Are you free to meet up right now?" he asked.

He didn't sound like he was in pain, but her mind automatically went to various unpleasant scenarios for why he would need to see her right then.

"Are you hurt?" she asked concernedly.

"No, no. I just want to show you something."

Sarah tilted her head, switching her phone from one ear to the other. "Show me what?"

"I guess you'll have to come with me and find out," he said lightly.

"I…" Sarah hesitated, glancing across the street at the subway stop that would take her home, where she had leftover Thai food and a comfortable change of clothes waiting for her. But in the end, her curiosity over what Matt wanted to show her won out. "Okay, sure. Where should I meet you?"

Ten minutes later, she waited at the intersection he'd mentioned, which was on the way to whatever he wanted to show her. She only had to wait a few minutes before he showed up.

"It's just a few blocks this way," he said, nodding down the street.

As they walked down the sidewalk, most people moved out of the way when they spotted Matt's cane. But more than a few didn't, and if he didn't have his enhanced senses allowing him to lean just out of the way each time, she suspected he would get slammed into a lot.

"So…are you going to tell me what it is we're going to see now?" she asked after they'd been walking for a minute.

Matt looked thoughtful. "No."

She squinted at him. "Well, can you give me a hint?"

"No."

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

"Did I at any point tell you that that I'd be playing twenty questions with you?" he shot back, unimpressed with her investigative attempts.

She let out a frustrated groan, to which he only chuckled.

"Don't set your expectations too high. It's not anything amazing."

"Too late. My expectations are already high," she informed him.

"Well, I hope you aren't disappointed, then."

A few blocks later, they turned a corner and came to a stop. Sarah looked up at the building in front of them, bringing her hand up to her eyes to shield them from the sun. She was met with the sight of a large church—old-fashioned looking with stained-glass windows and tall doors.

She'd known, of course, that Matt was religious. Foggy had mentioned Matt's Catholic guilt more than once, and she'd seen the Bible on his nightstand. She was also almost certain that she'd heard snatches of him saying a prayer under his breath the night Ronan had held a knife to her throat, but it had been difficult to tell for sure, and it had never felt appropriate to ask him.

"It's…a church."

"It is," he confirmed.

"Is—is this the surprise?" she asked uncertainly. "Converting to Catholicism?"

She was mostly joking, but she was still relieved when Matt snorted at the question.

"I think the Church does alright without sending the blind out to lure people in," he said dryly. "That's not why we're here."

"What are we doing here, then?" she asked, trailing after him as he tapped his cane towards the front doors.

"Come on," he said instead of answering, holding the door open for her and nodding towards it.

She hesitated just short of stepping through the doorway, craning her neck so that she could peer inside at how many people were around; she always felt like she was intruding when she entered a place where people were praying. But the church appeared empty.

Matt stepped into the doorway behind her, and she felt a hand on the small of her back as he gently prompted her forward. "If I haven't burst into flames at the threshold, you definitely won't."

Sarah sent him a dirty look over her shoulder but allowed him to guide her into the church, especially aware of his hand on her lower back now that she felt like grand deities were watching her thoughts. Luckily, she was distracted from that by the sight of the room they were in. It wasn't a giant church, and the moderate size made it feel more welcoming. The high-vaulted ceiling above them curved down to meet the colorful stained glass windows that punctuated the walls, and dark wooden pews lined the aisles.

There was a short fountain at the back of the church. When they passed by it Matt dipped his fingertips into the shallow well of water and genuflected, briefly murmuring something under his breath as he bowed his head. Sarah watched, simultaneously fascinated and feeling as though she was intruding on a private moment.

"Why isn't anyone here?" she asked him in a hushed voice.

"Mass doesn't start for another two hours or so."

"Oh," she said, pausing and looking around the church again. Her curiosity was killing her, and she couldn't help asking again. "So…now do I get to find out why we're here?"

"Has anyone ever told you that patience isn't your strong point?" he retorted. Sarah replied with a low noise of offense, and Matt laughed. "This way."

He led her over to a wooden door near the front of the church, which she assumed led to the rectory and church offices.

"Are we allowed back here?" she whispered.

"We're not breaking and entering a church," he said, seeming amused by her discomfort. "I got permission."

Sarah peered into the rooms they passed by: a small, messy office; a colorful room that she assumed was for some sort of Bible study; a meeting room that was doubling as a large storage area.

They came to a stop in front of an open door near the end of the hall, and he motioned for her to go inside.

"Ridiculous," she murmured to herself, laughing softly at the secrecy of the situation as she stepped inside.

She took in a surprised breath when she stepped inside. It was small and dusty, with bookshelves lining two of the walls on both sides, half full of books and half full of various knick knacks. A large window on one side of the room allowed sunlight to stream inside, landing directly on the object in the middle of the room: an upright piano. It had dark cherry wood and simple carvings along the top, with low, matching bench tucked underneath.

Matt's shoulder brushed against her own as he stepped into the room beside her. When Sarah managed to tear her eyes away from the piano to give him a look of disbelief.

"I know you have a lot of things going on that I can't really you help with. But…I figured maybe I could help with this," he said quietly. The teasing tone he'd held during the trip there was gone now, replaced by something more serious. He seemed almost hesitant now that they had reached the big reveal. "It's free, and quiet. They only use it for practice on Wednesday nights, so no one will bother you the rest of the week."

Sarah didn't know what to say, still so surprised by this turn of events. Her entire week had been one awful hit after another, leaving her feeling like she couldn't breathe sometimes—and now here was this one, small thing that was perfect.

Matt shifted next to her, fingering the leather loop at the top of his cane. Her silence seemed to make him doubtful.

"I know it's not an ideal practice space," he added uncertainly. "It's small, and…in a church. And probably not a state-of-the-art piano."

"No, it's…perfect," she whispered.

She gingerly took a seat on the bench to inspect the piano. It was older looking, but solid and well-built. There were no ornate decorations on it, but the keys were still smooth and unchipped as she lightly ran her finger tips over them without pressing down.

"This is perfect," she said softly. "Seriously, Matt. Thank you."

"It was no problem."

She squinted over at him suspiciously. "What kind of fast-talking lawyer tricks did you have to do to convince your priest to let some strange girl practice in here?"

"It didn't take much convincing at all. He's a good man. He likes to help people. And once I promised him that your playing wouldn't make his ears bleed, he was in."

"You don't know that," she said laughingly. "You've never even heard me play. I could be awful for all you know."

From the smirk that spread across his face, it appeared that he had been waiting for her to say something along those lines.

"That's a good point," he agreed, placing his hands on the windowsill and swiftly lifting himself up so that he was sitting on the deep ledge. He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "But conveniently, we're in a room with a piano, and I happen to have some free time to listen."

She supposed she had walked right into that trap.

"You—you want me to play right now?" she clarified.

"Kind of what I'm hoping for."

"Oh," she said, caught off guard by the request. "Um…"

"You did say the other night that you owe me," he pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes at him. He had her there.

"I didn't think you'd actually cash in on it," she muttered.

"Well, then you think I'm a much better person than I am."

As she gazed at the piano in front of her, a nervous feeling fluttered in her stomach. Part of it was just from the suddenness of being asked to play after so long, but she knew part of it had something to do with her audience. Being around him pretty much always made her feel exposed, and playing the piano in front of him seemed like it would only multiply that.

Then she looked back over at Matt on the windowsill, framed just as she was used to always seeing him in her much smaller apartment window. Except this time there was bright sunlight streaming through the glass around him, illuminating the dust particles in the air as it flooded the small room. She studied him for a moment, memorizing that picture, because how often did she get to see him surrounded by sunlight instead of shadows?

He was still waiting patiently for her to answer. She knew that bringing her here—to his church, this central part of his religion and so many of the things that drove him—wasn't a small thing for him. This was a deliberate step, letting her see this part of his life, was and there was no way she could waste that.

"Alright," she agreed, and Matt's smile widened. "What do you want to hear?"

"I…don't know much about piano," he admitted with a self-conscious shrug. "Play me something you like."

She looked down at her hands, framed against a backdrop they hadn't touched in a long time, and frowned at how different they looked now. Thin scars that she could only assume were going to be permanent still crisscrossed her skin and her knuckles were lightly bruised from practicing on the punching bag. Matt swore that they would stop bruising so easily as she practiced more, but she wasn't so sure. She rolled her wrist experimentally, trying to ascertain if it was moving stiffer than it used to before she sprained it, or if she was just imagining things. Even her nails were a mess from where she was constantly chipping away the polish, a nervous habit she'd picked up at some point in the last year.

Sarah could feel herself sinking into her head, becoming overwhelmed by tiny things that rationally she knew didn't matter. It was just a piano; there was no reason to be so nervous about returning to it.

She looked up at Matt. There was a small crease between his brows, and she suspected he was picking up on the range of emotions that must be radiating off her.

"Actually, could you…sit over here, instead?" she asked hesitantly.

He tilted his head at her questioningly, but she didn't have any explanation that she particularly wanted to say out loud, so she didn't offer one. She slid over a few inches to make space for him on the small bench.

Despite the lack of explanation, Matt acquiesced anyway, gracefully hopping down from the window ledge and taking a seat on the bench next to her. It clearly wasn't a two-person bench. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, focusing on the warmth at her side and the light, clean scent he always had, so different from the heavy cologne that had overwhelmed her with Todd. His presence next to her had its usual effect, somehow waking her up and calming her down at the same time; which was exactly what she had been hoping for. The distraction factor that it brought was worth the calm that slowly swept through her.

There was a hairtie around her wrist, which she slipped off and used to tie her hair into a loose, low ponytail over her shoulder. The summer humidity had already started creeping into the city, and it made the ends of her hair curl slightly, getting in her eyes more than usual. She pushed away the few strands that still fell in her face.

She stole a sideways glance at Matt.

"I don't sing," she warned him.

"Neither do I."

"Okay," she said softly. She took a deep breath, in and out, before placing her fingers on the keys.

She looked down at her fingers as she played the first few opening notes of the song, not so much out of any need to see the keys but rather as a way to avoid looking in Matt's direction. Out of all the audiences she had played for—from tiny audition rooms with hypercritical admissions judges to crowds of people who had paid money to be there—this was by far the most vulnerable she'd ever felt behind a piano.

As she played, the tightness in her chest slowly unwound. This was something she could do well, one piece of her that was still here. It wasn't one hundred percent the same; she had to focus a little more than she had when she was playing every day, and her fingers were stiffer than they used to be. But the feeling that came with playing was still the same, and with that realization came a relief so strong it almost made her feel light-headed.

She stole a sideways glance at Matt, and immediately a tiny bit of the nervousness returned when she saw how intently he was listening. He had his head cocked sideways in the same way he did when he was hearing something far away, and his sightless gaze was fixed somewhere just between her and the piano. A faint, crooked smile played across his face, though his eyes were serious as he concentrated on her playing. She wondered what it was like for him to listen to music with his senses—could he hear every tiny detail in each note?

She turned her attention back to the keys before he could notice her studying him, and didn't look back over until she was playing the last few notes. He had a serious look on his face as she waited to hear what he had to say.

"I'm…concerned I might have undersold you when I told Father Lantom you were good."

Sarah laughed, suddenly very relieved that Matt had been the first person to hear her play again, because if that sentiment had come from anyone else's mouth she might not have believed them.

"I thought I heard music down here," came a voice from behind them.

Sarah jumped slightly, and she could have sworn Matt did as well, which was strange. People couldn't really sneak up on Matt, could they? He almost always sensed them coming. She saw a flash of what almost looked like guilt on his face as he quickly leaned away from her, but then it was gone.

Looking behind her, she saw the voice that had spoken belonged to a man standing in the doorway. His black outfit and clerical collar gave him away as a priest, and he was mostly bald, with piercing blue eyes that would have seemed intimidating if not paired with a calm, welcoming look.

Matt stood up from the piano bench, and Sarah followed suit.

"Sarah, this is Father Lantom, the priest here. Father…" Matt hesitated, as though even to the last moment he was debating doing this. "…this is Sarah."

Father Lantom's gaze settled on her.

"Sarah," he said, nodding his head in recognition. He looked at her intently, curiosity on his features. "I'm glad to get to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

It was a fairly innocuous thing to say upon first meeting someone, but the serious weight of his tone when he said it made her think it was something more. Sarah faltered, letting her gaze flick questioningly over to Matt, but she couldn't discern from his expression if that meant what she thought it did. She turned her attention back to the priest in front of her.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, holding her hand out. "Um, your church is beautiful."

"I think so, too. Unfortunately it doesn't have central air, so…enjoy the nice temperatures while you can."

Sarah nodded, pushing her hair behind her ear. She'd always felt a little nervous around religious figures, as though they could read her mind. "Thank you for letting me use your music room."

"It's no problem. Honestly, the piano hardly gets any use. We usually prefer the big church organ—it adds a certain sense of drama that we religious types don't usually get to enjoy," he said lightly.

The mention of religious types reminded her of an issue she felt she needed to bring up if she was going to be using his church to practice.

"I'm not, uh, especially…Catholic," she explained haltingly, looking back and forth between the two men. "I don't know if that's…a problem."

Father Lantom seemed amused by her wording. "'Not especially' meaning…just kind of Catholic? Because we call those Episcopalians."

It took her a second to realize he was joking—she wasn't aware that priests were generally funny—and once she did she laughed.

"Meaning…not at all. I mean, I'm not like, super unreligious, I just—I don't really do a lot of the…church," she explained lamely.

Matt ducked his head in an attempt to conceal his silent laughter, and Sarah narrowed her eyes at him.

"Matthew didn't give me the impression that you were religious when we spoke. It's not an issue," Lantom assured her. "I did my days as a missionary when I was younger, spreading the word. Now I find that it's difficult enough to take care of the ones who are already here. Did you know there are more than three thousand Catholics in the world for every one priest?"

"That's a lot of Catholics."

"And not a lot of priests. It's not the life for everyone, I suppose," Father Lantom said. He gestured down the hallway in the opposite direction of the way they'd come. "There's a side door down the hall. It's open whenever the church is, so feel free to come and go."

"Thank you," she said again.

"Well, I just stopped by to introduce myself, but I have to get back to it," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Sarah."

"You too."

Lantom turned his attention towards Matt.

"I'll see you soon, Matthew. Perhaps actually in Mass rather than several hours afterwards," he said pointedly.

Matt cleared his throat, and Sarah bit back a grin at the mildly chastised expression on his face. "Right. Have a good day, Father."

Sarah glanced back at the office door as they walked down the hallway.

"I think you just got in trouble," she whispered.

Matt groaned. "I'm re-thinking bringing you here."

As they stepped outside, a warm breeze greeted them at the door. The weather was surprisingly nice, having not yet turned to the sweltering, garbage-scented oven New York City turned into in the summertime.

Matt tilted his head towards her.

"You in a hurry?"

Sarah's mind flashed to the couch she had so been looking forward to curling up on and blocking out the long day she'd had. Suddenly it didn't seem as appealing as it had.

"No," she said, her lips curving upwards. "I can stay a while."

They didn't end up going far, choosing to settle on some steps in front of a closed office down the block, with the church still in view. Matt sat with his back against the low stone wall that framed the steps, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Sarah was perched cross-legged a step above him, turned sideways so she was facing him. She traced the patterns on the brick steps as they sat together, sometimes talking and other times not.

"So, why don't you go to Mass?" she asked curiously.

Matt heaved a sigh, leaning his head back against the wall behind him.

"I usually work during the afternoon services, and the morning ones are just so…early," he said. His inflection near the end of his explanation was so unhappy—nearly a whine—that Sarah couldn't stop herself from laughing loudly, startling a middle aged pedestrian who was passing by.

"That cannot possibly be the reason," she said.

He flashed her an easy grin. "You know I'm not a morning person."

"I've noticed," she said, still laughing as she pictured Matt sitting in early Mass with disheveled morning hair and a deeply displeased expression. "But I still don't believe you're skipping church out of laziness."

"I don't know. My dad went to this church when I was a kid. A lot of older members of the parish still remember him, and…what happened to him. I can hear them whispering about me whenever I do attend."

"I didn't know you'd been going there so long. You've always been religious?" she asked.

"For the most part. My dad and I would attend sometimes, but it wasn't anything regular. Major holidays, sometimes Sunday Mass. Then the orphanage was run by Catholic nuns, so…pretty religious," Matt said with a wry grin. His mention of being in an orphanage was casual as always, but it made her chest hurt anyway. She tried not to let on that it affected her, knowing that he would hate it if he interpreted it as pity. "I kind of fell out of the habit of going to church for most of college and law school."

"What made you come back?" she asked, though she suspected she already knew.

"Putting on the mask. Deciding to put it on for real, that is. Not just letting loose occasionally. At that point, no one knew yet. I needed that barometer, some way to gauge if I was going too far."

"He's not really what I'd expect a priest to be like, but…I liked him. He seems like he'd be honest with you."

"He is. There was a point last year, right at the worst part of everything going on with Fisk…I was seriously considering crossing a line. He helped keep me from making that mistake."

Sarah bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her eyes focused on the church and not on him. She knew what kind of mistake he was talking about—the one that he so strictly kept himself from making. One she had already made. And she knew how broken he would be if he ever did actually kill someone, wracked with guilt in a way that she wasn't.

"I guess he knows, then?" she asked. "Father Lantom, I mean. He knows about…what you do?"

"He does. I never really planned to tell him, but it was easy enough for him to figure out. But it makes it simpler. I don't have to hide anything when I talk to him about the things I've done. People…people I've hurt."

He didn't specify that she was on that list of people, but it was obvious to both of them.

"So, when he said that he'd heard a lot about me, he meant…"

Matt breathed out a rueful laugh, shaking his head.

"He, uh…he meant Confession," Matt said quietly, confirming her suspicion. "You've come up more than once. I'm sure that's not a surprise."

It wasn't a surprise by any stretch, but it also didn't sit right with her. Matt had done so much to help her. He could have done the bare minimum to keep her safe from the dangers of her job, and instead he'd time and time again given her what she'd needed to feel like a person again. But if his reaction to Lauren's disapproval was any indication, he didn't see it that way.

"You know you don't…have to talk about me in there," she said hesitantly. It didn't come out as she had intended, and seeing Matt's questioning look, she tried again, struggling to word what she wanted to express. "I just mean…well, from what I know about Confession, you tell your priest what you've done wrong, and they assign you some kind of…atonement. Right?"

"Penance," he clarified. "But yeah, that's the gist of it."

"Well, I'm not an expert on these things, but…I think you've done your penance, Matt," she told him softly. "You don't have to feel guilty about me forever. I'd really like to not add to all that weight on your shoulders."

She'd been hoping that the sentiment would help soften some of the frown lines in his brow. But unlike a normal person, Matt responded to her words with the same reaction she'd expect if she'd just slapped him. The corners of his eyes flinched slightly as his frown deepened into a pained grimace.

"Sarah, I…I told you, you don't need to make excuses for me. That's not on you—"

Sarah could feel him launching into the same speech he'd given her when she'd offered to talk to Lauren, and she cut him off.

"I'm not excusing you. I'm…just saying that I forgive you," she said with a shrug. It was really pretty simple, now that she said it. "You earned that a long time ago. I just…I just want to make sure you know that."

Matt seemed to be struggling with whether or not to continue arguing with her, but after a few moments he swallowed, then nodded.

Sarah was puzzled by the uncertainty on his face, as though he had no idea what to do with the information she'd just given him. It occurred to her suddenly that forgiveness didn't seem to be something he was used to receiving, and her heart twisted. Impulsively, she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his own and squeezing tightly. For a moment he didn't return the gesture, and—worried that she'd made him uncomfortable with the bluntness of her statement—she started to let go.

Matt caught her before she could slip it out of his, bringing her hand up to press his mouth to the back of it. He closed his eyes as he held her hand there, the feel of his five-o-clock shadow rough against her skin. Sarah's heartbeat stuttered as she watched him, transfixed. They stayed that way for a beat, and then he let go.

Before she could do much more than remember to breathe in, Matt stood up, slipping his dark glasses back on.

"I should get you home before it gets dark."

As they passed by the church again, Sarah lifted her gaze up towards the stained glass windows. If there really was some higher power inside those walls, she hoped it would help her, because God knew she had no idea what she was doing.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm evening until they were several blocks away from the church. Then Matt stopped mid-sentence as something caught his attention.

He came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the sidewalk, his hand darting out to seize her arm tightly. Sarah stumbled to a stop and whipped her head around in surprise. Matt was moving his head sharply, as though trying to locate something. She glanced around in alarm, but didn't see anything troubling.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He didn't answer, but there was a tension in his muscles that made her nervous. What was he picking up on? Was something about to happen? "Matt?"

It took a few more seconds before he shook his head.

"I…I thought I heard…" Matt trailed off, his brow furrowed. Then he shook his head. "Nothing. Sorry."

Sarah watched him in concern, noting the confusion and frustration playing across his features. Gingerly, she reached up to place her hand over the one currently holding her arm in a painful grip. The touch seemed to snap him out of it, and he let go instantly.

"Sorry," he repeated.

"It's okay," she said slowly. "What did you think you were hearing?"

He gave her a forced smile that she didn't believe for a second.

"Nothing. Listen, I, uh…I forgot that I had something I was going to look into."

"Uh huh," she said doubtfully. She thought it was strange that he was making up a cover story to tell her, of all people, but she wasn't about to stop him from going to do whatever it was he was really up to. "I guess I'll…see you later, then."

Matt nodded and started to leave, then turned back abruptly.

"You should…you should take the subway home," he told her.

Sarah laughed, looking around. There were tons of pedestrians around, and the sun had barely started setting. Surely he was joking.

"You're kidding," she said, but the serious look on his face indicated otherwise. "It's only a few more blocks, why would I—"

"Please, Sarah," he interrupted. Normally she might have argued with him further, but he looked so thrown by whatever he'd heard—or thought he heard—that she relented.

"I…okay," she said uncertainly. Matt looked relieved, and immediately turned to head in the opposite direction. "Good luck with your…mysterious…thing," she called after him.

A few minutes later she was standing on the crowded subway for her ridiculously short ride home. She idly rubbed her arm as she wondered what could have drawn such a strong reaction from Matt. She figured she would ask him later, but she had a feeling he wouldn't be very forthcoming. She also had a feeling whatever it was would cause trouble anyway.

She was right on both counts.


Next chapter we'll spend a bit more time with Orion things, but after such a long wait I thought you guys might like a more Matt/Sarah centered chapter. I'll try to get the next one up quicker than this one!