What They Wouldn't Do

by Ashevillain

Sarah is a secretary at Orion, a shady company previously owned by Wilson Fisk. When Daredevil begins investigating Orion, Sarah accidentally discovers his true identity, and he's not pleased. Despite her best efforts to avoid him after figuring out who he is, she quickly finds herself on the receiving end of a Daredevil interrogation in a dark alley. Post S1, Slow Burn Matt/OC.

34. Worth It

Hi, everyone! I know it's been a while and I'm sorry. Can we talk about how I published the first 22 chapters of this story in less than a year, and it has since taken me two and half years just to publish the next 10? Ouch. If I ever need a clear marker of when my depression really started kicking my ass, it's riiiight around that steep drop in productivity. But please know that the long waits are not at all due to lack of interest in the story! Honestly, sometimes this story is one of the only things I can muster any interest in. There's a whole lot of factors involved in my inability to update regularly, but wanting to abandon my two angsty Hell's Kitchen children isn't one of them.

But I do have some good news on the waiting front! This was originally a ridiculous behemoth of a chapter (well above 25,000 words) and when it was done I was trying to decide which scenes to cut and eventually I just decided to keep it all and split it into two smaller chapters. Which is good news! It means the next chapter is completely finished and ready to go, so I can just post it next week. No months long wait! Just one little week.

On a different note: Several very sweet anonymous reviewers have recently suggested starting a GoFundMe for this story, which was quickly followed by a LOT of PMs asking if I've set one up. It is so touching that so many of you have expressed a desire to pay for my writing, especially since a lot of you know how much I've been struggling financially these last couple of years. But I really can't take any payment for this fic—including tip jars—and I hope you all understand.

Daredevil, sadly enough, is not my intellectual property; it belongs to Netflix and Marvel. Fanfiction already exists in a legal gray area, but getting paid for it makes things distinctly more litigious than I'm comfortable with. Additionally, I don't want readers to feel as though the rate at which I write/post will be dependent on them having to give me money. It's so, so sweet of you guys to suggest, and some day when I'm publishing my own stuff I would love for you to buy it! But for now it's just not something I can do.

In the past, I have set up some general fundraising pages on my non-fanfiction social media for rent/therapy/groceries during particularly difficult times. If you have an interest in checking those pages out, please feel free to PM/reach me at the email on my profile, but understand that they're very much in regards to my Real Life and not my Fanfiction Life.

I think that's all of my announcements out of the way. I heard Season Three is supposed to come out sometime in 2018, so hopefully they announce it soon! In the mean time, here's lots of Matt Murdock POV to help fill the angsty Catholic void, along with a special guest POV we haven't seen before. Enjoy!

---

There were a number of things Sarah loved about living in New York City, but she held the firm opinion that New York in the summertime was the worst. It got oppressively hot and humid, and for every one local there were ten sweating tourists who didn't know where they were going. There was a reason the richest residents of the city fled to Connecticut or the Hamptons from May until August.

But tonight, New York's hot weather was on her side, because with each summer's heat waves always came power outages. Usually small ones that didn't last long, but they were common enough in these high temperatures that when the power suddenly went out at Orion that night, it didn't immediately raise any suspicions from the few security guards that were there. After all, for once there weren't any unsavory meetings going on there, no congregations of important people to target. No one even noticed as two shadowy figures slipped into the building, then slipped back out undetected about fifteen minutes later, a list of four-digit key codes in hand.

Now they stood on a rooftop across from Orion, and Sarah tried not to look down at the ground. She'd never really considered herself to be someone who was afraid of heights. But as it turned out, that lack of fear was mostly due to her not actively spending much time on top of buildings with little to no barrier between her and a steep fall onto the concrete below.

Sarah made the mistake of glancing down, then immediately looked back up and swallowed.

Matt picked up on her nervousness, as always.

"You'll be fine," he said. "Just remember to—"

"To do what you say, and don't let anyone see me," Sarah finished for him. "You've reminded me a million times so far."

"And if something goes wrong?"

"Run. I know."

She could tell he still wasn't happy about the arrangement, but at least he'd stopped trying to convince her to go back home.

"Okay," he said. "There's two guards coming up the stairs to the roof. They're probably doing a sweep of the perimeter."

Once they were on the roof, Matt made quick work of the two men patrolling the area. He tossed their guns over the side of the building and fished in one of their jacket pockets, pulling out a keycard.

Meanwhile Sarah was over by the door, figuring out how to get in. There was a keypad a few feet to the left of the door, and a card swiper placed several feet on the opposite side of the door. Sarah took in the set up with raised eyebrows.

"Huh. Looks like you need to use both at the same time," Sarah noted innocently. "So…you would need two people. Interesting."

Predictably, Matt's expression below the mask was unamused. He walked over to the card swiper with the guards ID in hand.

"Try not to be smug until we've actually finished the job," he said.

Sarah pulled the key code list out of her pocket and went to type it in.

"Use your knuckle," Matt reminded her. "We don't need to leave fingerprints."

"Right," she said. Ten seconds in and she already would have made a mistake had he not caught it. Great.

Once they were inside, Matt swiveled his head like an antennae, picking up on the activity in the building.

"There's three floors above ground and about…seven more below ground," he surmised. "At least two armed guards on each floor."

"Can you tell where Tyler is?"

Matt frowned in concentration, then shook his head. "It's too difficult to tell."

Her stomach flipped. What if he wasn't even here? She pushed the thought from her mind as they headed towards the stairwell.

The first set of guards they encountered went down smoothly, as did the second and third. Each time it was the same routine: Sarah would use the key codes to open the door to a level of the building, then stay out of sight as Matt quickly and quietly knocked the guards unconscious. Then he'd take the bullets out of their guns and the batteries out of their radios before zip tying their hands. How many zip ties did he carry around, anyway?

They continued downward, checking each floor as they went. Still no sign of Tyler.

They had gotten down to the fourth floor below ground before they ran into any more than two guards. This floor had six, which seemed like a good sign; they had to be protecting something, right?

As they were making their way down a hallway on that floor, Matt suddenly touched a hand to her forearm to halt her. He was listening closely to something.

"There's a few guards coming from different directions," he said. He nodded towards an open doorway leading to a dark room. "Hide in there. Don't come out."

Sarah ducked into the room, staying close enough to the door that she could see what was happening. The first pair of guards rounded the corner. She saw one go into a room a few doors down and flick on the light. The other did the same with another room. Shit. These ones were doing a thorough check.

As they came near the room Sarah was hiding in she held her breath and felt in her pocket for her stun gun, shrinking back from the hallway light. She flattened herself against the wall next to the door as their footsteps drew nearer.

There was a loud clattering noise at the other end of the hall that immediately caught the attention of both guards. Sarah turned her head and watched from her hiding spot, already knowing what would happen as they moved towards the sound. It felt weirdly like watching a horror movie, but with the good guys and bad guys reversed. If this were a movie, she'd be yelling at the people on screen to not go check out that strange noise, because something was waiting for them in the shadows.

But this wasn't a movie. It was real life, and the thing in the shadows was on her side.

They passed by another dark open doorway, and one of the guards was yanked inside so quickly and silently that Sarah might have missed it if she'd blinked. It took the second guard a few seconds to realize his partner was gone, and by the time he did he had already been knocked out by a baton and dropped on the floor inside the dark room, out of sight of the second pair who was approaching.

When two more guards rounded he corner, Matt seemed less concerned with stealth. He stepped out of the room just as they passed, knocking one of guard's head against the wall while grabbing the other's semi-automatic away from him. He kicked it out of reach, and Sarah watch as it slid down the hallway. By the time she looked back at the scuffle, it was over.

She waited until Matt nodded in her direction before stepping out of her concealed spot.

"Can you grab that?" he asked, indicating the gun lying on the floor behind her.

Sarah yanked her sleeves over her hands and carefully picked it up. It felt cold and heavy in a way she didn't like. She handed it to Matt, who swiftly removed the bullets. For a guy who didn't use guns, he didn't seem to have any trouble disassembling one. They passed by more open doors, and more closed ones. Sarah wondered briefly what was in all those rooms.

Matt came to a stop outside one of the closed doors.

"There's someone in there," he said.

Sarah's heart caught in her throat. "Tyler? Or...?"

Matt tilted his head, listening more closely. Then to her immense relief, he nodded.

"It's Tyler. The heartbeat's young, and afraid. He's alone. I don't think he's hurt. You have the key code for doors on this level?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Go in and make sure he's alright. I'll be back in a minute," Matt said. Sarah nodded, and he ducked around a corner, presumably to go punch someone somewhere.

Sarah typed in the access code for the room and opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle the teenager inside. Her heart twisted when she saw him, alone in the middle of the room with his wrists and ankles secured to a chair. He looked tired and scared, but otherwise unharmed. She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to get him untied, but for now she was just relieved he didn't look like he was hurt.

"Hi," she said with a small wave. "Remember me?"

Tyler blinked at her as she knelt in front of his chair, his eyes going wide with confusion.

"Uh, yeah," he said. His voice was hoarse. "You're that lady. The…one who's bad at math."

"I think a C-minus is more average than bad, but yeah. That's me."

She'd been hoping the small joke would help him relax while she figured out how to untie him, but there was no such luck.

"I guess if you're here it means your boss is coming. That guy with all the scars on his face," he said. His voice was shaking. "What…what do you guys want?"

"No, Tyler, it's okay," she said. "I'm not here to help Jason. I'm here to help you. Your dad sent us."

"Us?"

Then his gaze focused behind her and his eyes went even wider. Sarah looked over her shoulder to see Matt standing in the doorway, holding something shiny in his hand.

"Whoa," Tyler said.

She turned back to Tyler.

"Yeah. I know."

Matt strode over to them, handing Sarah the item he was holding: it was a small switchblade she assumed he'd gotten off one of the guards; perfect for cutting through the restraints.

"Are you alright?" he asked Tyler.

Tyler seemed altogether too shocked to reply as Sarah began cutting through the restraints on one of his wrists, being careful not to nick his skin.

There was a sudden commotion on one of the floors above them; footsteps running and voices yelling. It sounded like someone had come across some of the unconscious bodies they'd left littered around the building. Matt cocked his head towards the door to listen, then swore under his breath.

"There's more guards coming," he said. He turned to Sarah, who was finishing with the second restraint now. "Take Tyler and get him out of the building. You can take the northwest stairwell up to ground level. There's no one over there, and I'll keep them away from it. Keep going back towards Rob and don't stop; I'll catch up soon."

Sarah swallowed and nodded.

"Okay. Be careful."

Matt nodded and exited the room, leaving her to hastily finish freeing Tyler from the chair. When she was done, she looked up at the petrified teenager and smiled as reassuringly as she could with her heart racing in her chest.

"Ready to get out of here?"

Just like Matt had said, the stairwell was empty of anyone but the two of them. They climbed the stairs as quickly as they could until they reached the ground level floor, then stumbled out into the cool night air. Sarah was dying to stop for a minute and let the stitch in her side fade, but they needed to get back to Rob. Matt said he would catch up soon. Sarah glanced back inside uneasily; she didn't like the idea of leaving him there, despite knowing he could handle himself.

"Come on," she said, pointing down the street. "It's this way."

Tyler shook his head, squinting in the opposite direction. "No, I have to go home. My dad—"

"Your dad's not at your home. But I know where he is, and I can take you to him."

"What about…?" Tyler nodded to where they'd come from. "Is he coming?"

As if on cue, they heard the sound of shattering glass from inside, followed by an ear piercing alarm splitting through the night air. Sarah jumped at the sound. It was incredibly loud even outside, meaning the sound inside must have been insane.

Definitely loud enough that Matt couldn't hear what was going on around him.

Sarah was frozen on the spot for a moment, staring at the building in horror. Then came the sound of a gunshot from inside, audible even over the piercing alarm. It was quickly followed by two more shots in close succession. Sarah's heart flipped, and she snapped out of whatever state of shock she'd gone into.

She turned to Tyler abruptly. He looked to be similarly frozen by the sound of the gunshot.

"Okay. O-okay, listen," Sarah said. She wasn't sure if she was trying to calm him down or herself. "I have to go back in, but you—"

"Back—back in there?"

Sarah nodded.

"Are you nuts?" he exclaimed. His voice cracked a little, reminding her again how young he was. "You're supposed to run away from gunshots!"

"Listen. You need to go hide. There's a park at the end of the block," she said, pointing towards the entrance in the distance. "Go hide there, and don't come out until we come find you, and then we'll take you to your dad."

She wasn't crazy about sending him off on his own, but the alarm was filling up every inch of air and there was every chance that the next bullet fired would hit Matt—if one hadn't already.

She grabbed her pepper spray and stun gun out of her sweatshirt pocket and held them both up.

"Take your pick," she said.

Tyler stared at her in shock for a moment longer, then reluctantly took the pepper spray. Sarah nodded shakily and pocketed the stun gun.

"Go."

He took off towards the park, and Sarah ran in the opposite direction, back towards the doors they'd just come out of. It occurred to her that no police were showing up, and she wondered who Jason had paid off to make sure this place wasn't responded to.

Back inside, the sound of the alarm was deafening. It seemed to get louder as it bounced off the walls, screaming through the air. Sarah took a breath, bolting towards the staircase and trying to remember how many levels down she had seen the door for an electrical closet. It had been inside the stairwell, and she dearly hoped it would have a circuit breaker in it.

Thankfully, when she found the closet it was unlocked, and the breakers were inside. A rare stroke of luck for her.

Sarah tried to block out the noise and focus on the task in front of her. None of the switches were labeled, but there was a large one at the top that she assumed was for the whole building. She flipped it with shaking fingers.

The piercing siren came to an immediate end as she was suddenly surrounded by pitch black. She heard shouts from a few floors below her and assumed the rest of the building was plunged into darkness as well.

Sarah's ears were ringing from the noise. Between this and that idiot Tracksuit firing his gun right next to her ear, she was probably going to end up with some kind of permanent hearing damage.

Back in the stairwell, she leaned over the railing, gripping the cold metal tightly as she listened for any sound of what was happening below. But it was difficult over her own gasping breaths and the ringing remnants of the alarm in her ears. Around her, dull red bulbs along the walls were slowly beginning to light up as the backup system kicked in. They were small and widely spaced out, bathing the stairwell in a weak but eerie light.

To her relief, she finally heard the sounds of fighting going on below. There was a harsh yell of pain that definitely wasn't Matt's, meaning he was still moving—and hopefully winning. Sarah's hoped his hearing would be quicker to recover than hers was. At least he had the added upper hand of now being able to fight in his own territory: pitch dark. He'd be okay, she reassured herself, breathing a sigh of relief. Now she could go find Tyler in the park, where Matt would meet them there in one piece, and they would bring him back to his dad—

Then a hand clamped down on her shoulder and whipped her away from the railing, sending her careening into the wall. Her hood slipped off as her head snapped back and cracked hard against the concrete wall.

She gasped in pain. Between the dim red lights and the black spots that were now exploding across her vision, it was difficult to see who was attacking her. When she felt a hand close around her arm and fingernails digging into her skin, she lashed out, punching at what she hoped was her assailants face. To her satisfaction, she made contact with what felt like his jaw. It hurt, but unlike past attempts it didn't feel like her hand had exploded.

The blow didn't get the man—and she could see now that it was tall, bearded man who she didn't recognize—out of her space, but it did get him to let go of her. She tried to dart past him but he caught her by the arm again, twisting it behind her. She automatically tried to yank it away and was met with more pain.

No. That wasn't what she was supposed to do. Struggling to remember the right move, Sarah was surprised to find that her body seemed to remember how to do it all on its own. She twisted into the man's hold on her arm, forcing him to grasp her at an awkward angle, then pushed back abruptly.

His hold on her loosened, and she sent an elbow back towards him; she was rewarded with a pained hiss as her elbow made contact with his ribs. She knew there were specific areas she was supposed to aim for, but at the moment she was just grateful to have hit him at all. She did it again, this time aiming high over her shoulder and elbowing him hard in the throat.

Sarah struggled out of his grip and bolted for the stairs, making it up almost one level before he was suddenly in front of her again. He grabbed the front of her sweatshirt and shoved her back so that her spine hit the metal railing. Something clattered loudly to the floor. Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized he was trying to push her over.

She wildly grabbed at anything she could reach, which was mostly just the person trying to kill her. She felt her fingernails slash into his skin a few times, but it seemed to have no effect. There was a panicky animal trying to claw it's way out of her chest, and it really didn't like being suspended over a railing.

The lighting was brighter on this level, allowing the man to get a better look at her face as he tipped her over the railing. She saw his eyes widen as he recognized her, but seemed to be struggling to place who she was. She took advantage of the momentary distraction to bring her knee up hard between his legs.

He let out a yell and let go, leaving Sarah to scramble to regain her balance and not fall over the railing. She felt in her pocket for her stun gun, then realized with a sinking feeling that she knew what had clattered on the floor a few seconds earlier.

And it seemed her opponent had realized it, too. When he came lunging back to his feet he had her stun gun in his hand, and she didn't have any time to get away.

He lashed out, digging the stun gun viciously into her shoulder, and hit the button.

The electric volts shot through her like lightning. She would have screamed if she'd been able to, but she couldn't move at all. Her muscles were rapidly contracting over and over, and she couldn't form a single thought in her head. It felt awful, like every single part of her body cramping, trying to curl in on herself unsuccessfully.

Then the electricity was gone, and so was the man in front of her. The entire thing had only lasted about five seconds, but it felt much longer to her.

The second nothing was holding her up, Sarah slid to the floor. Surprisingly, the pain was already receding, although muscle in her body felt like she had just run thirty miles. Across the room, she could see two dark figures fighting—or more accurately, one dark figure badly losing.

The sliver of her brain that didn't feel like it was sizzling in a frying pan registered that the snapping sound was a familiar one: bones breaking. She couldn't be positive, but she was reasonably sure they weren't hers. Weirdly, the first fully coherent thought that floated across her consciousness was that it was hard to break someone's bones. You didn't just need strength, you also needed to be furious.

The sounds of fighting stopped, and then Matt was crouching in front of her, barely more than a dark outline against the shadows. She could make out the rise and fall of his shoulders as his breathing came fast and harsh from physical exertion.

"Are you okay?" He reached out to touch her cheek but abruptly stopped just before touching her. She could smell the thick, metallic scent of blood on his gloves, and she was positive it wasn't his.

"Yeah," she murmured. The back of her head felt like it was split in two, and sure enough when she put a hand there to check, her fingers came back smeared with blood. Not a lot, but enough to catch Matt's attention.

"What happened? I thought you both got out. Were there more men outside, or—? Where's Tyler?"

"He's safe. I…the alarm was going off. I could hear gunshots. I thought…"

There was a pause as Matt understood what she was saying.

"You came back inside," he said. His tone was flat now, difficult to parse out.

"Tyler's down the street. Hiding," she said. "I told him to wait there for us."

"Can you stand?"

Sarah nodded.

"Okay. Come on," he said. Adrenaline must have still been coursing through Matt's system, because he pulled her to her feet more roughly than she expected. The sudden movement made the pounding in her head worse, and she let out a sharp whine of protest. Matt put a steadying hand on her waist. "Sorry," he murmured.

Sarah's eyes fell on the man who had attacked her, who was now sprawled on the floor, barely stirring.

"That guy…he saw my face," Sarah said.

Matt tilted his head sharply. "Did he recognize you?"

"I'm not sure. I…I think maybe he did."

They both stood in silence for a moment as she realized with a sinking sensation just what he was going to have to do now.

"…you don't have to be here for this," he warned her.

Sarah shook her head. "N-no. I'll stay."

Matt pressed his lips into a thin line but didn't protest.

"Alright. Stay over there," he said, jerking his head towards a corner out of the unconscious man's line of sight. "Where he can't see you."

Sarah quickly moved over into the shadowy area as Matt crouched over the man. His silhouette was illuminated only by the weak red lights nearby, lending him an especially devil-like appearance. She didn't envy the person he was about to interrogate.

"Who hired you?" he demanded.

"Screw you."

Sarah winced before she even heard the crunch of bones. If she squinted in the dark, she could see Matt twisting the man's hand at a very painful looking angle. This wasn't like the methodical hits and efficient kicks of his earlier fights. This guy was on the receiving end of quiet rage, and even through the fog in her mind Sarah knew it was because the he had put his hands on her.

"Who hired you?"

"Man named Jason," he ground out. "I don't know his last name."

"The woman you were fighting. Who was she?"

"I don't know."

Matt tilted his head. Whatever he heard in the man's heartbeat seemed to displease him. He put a glove over the man's mouth, and while it was too dark for Sarah to fully see what he did next, she could hear the muffled scream that followed.

"I'll ask you again," he said softly, uncovering the man's mouth once he quieted down. "Think hard. Who was she?"

"I don't know her name. She—she works for the guy that hired me. She's his assistant or something. Sits at the desk outside his office. I'm sure of it."

Sarah closed her eyes as her stomach sank. He had recognized her. He could identify her. How could she have let this happen?

"What guy?"

"Jason."

There was a long silence as the weight of his statement hit them both. This man knew who Sarah was, and knew who she worked for. He knew who she had just betrayed.

"Listen to me. Listen," Matt growled. "I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to let you walk out of here on two unbroken legs. That's not a privilege I usually afford to people who kidnap children. Do you understand?"

He didn't answer immediately, and Matt sent his fist sailing into the man's nose.

"I asked if you understood me."

"Yes, I understand! Okay? Shit," he said, his voice garbled by the blood pouring out of his nose.

"Good. In return, you're going to leave Hell's Kitchen. Immediately. Tonight. Don't go home first. When the man who hired you finds out how badly you screwed this up, he's going to have you killed in a very painful way. It won't matter that you can tell him about the girl you saw. He will kill you anyway. And I won't stop him. So you leaving town is pretty much your only option if you want to stay alive. Sound good?"

"Yes," the man answered, more quickly this time.

"Are you going to hold up your end of the deal?"

"I can track people down much more easily than Jason can. And if I have reason to believe you've told anyone about tonight, I will find you. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," he panted. "Yeah, I got it."

Matt nodded. Then before Sarah could blink, he punched the bleeding man in the face once more, knocking him unconscious.

It didn't seem like enough. How could they just take this guy's word that he wouldn't bring Sarah's entire cover crashing down on her? But there didn't seem to be another option. Even if Matt beat the guy into a coma—and from the way his fists were clenched she could tell he was tempted—it wouldn't stop him from ratting her out to Jason as soon as he woke up. In fact, it would probably encourage him to do so. Convincing him it was in his best interest to leave town was all they could really do right now, but it did little to untie the knot of panic that formed in her stomach.

As she followed Matt out of the building, she wasn't encouraged by his silence and quick strides. She could tell he was angry; it was crackling in the air around him. But for some reason he wasn't saying anything yet, which made it seem so much worse. But for now they had to go find Tyler; they could deal with each other later.

---

There were only three heartbeats waiting for them in the park. Two were slow and steady, belonging to two homeless men sleeping on some benches nearby. The third was lighter than an adult's would be, fast and panicked. The poor kid had to be traumatized. It took a minute for Sarah to convince him to come out of his hiding spot and follow her to where Matt was waiting near the entrance.

Tyler's footsteps abruptly stopped when he noticed Matt, his heartbeat skipping nervously.

Sarah must have noticed his reaction. "No, no, it's okay. He's here to help."

"I don't even understand why you're helping me," he said to her. "Don't you work for those people? Or—they work for you?"

"It's…complicated," she said reluctantly.

"We're going to take you back to your dad, Tyler," Matt assured him. "You'll both be alright."

Finally he nodded, and the three of them left the park.

Tyler seemed wary of Matt, like most people who met Daredevil were, so he walked a little ahead, letting Sarah walk with Tyler and keep him calm. He could hear him peppering her with questions as they moved along.

"So, you really know Daredevil?"

"Uh...kind of," she answered vaguely.

"Do you know the Avengers?"

"No."

"Oh." The disappointment in Tyler's voice was palpable. "Not even Iron Man?"

"Sorry."

It didn't take long to get back to where they'd left Rob. His son seemed alarmed to find his dad ziptied to a water pipe, but otherwise their reunion was tearful and relieved. Matt made them both make two promises: the first, to never tell anyone they'd seen Sarah working with Daredevil. And the second, to get out of town immediately without stopping anywhere for any reason until they were far away. They readily agreed to both.

Matt and Sarah didn't take the rooftops back home. There was no hurry anymore, and he'd been able to tell on the way over that Sarah wasn't the biggest fan of that particular mode of transport. She probably wasn't much of a fan of stumbling through dark alleys either, but they only had so many options.

Now that Tyler and Rob were safely on their way out of town, Matt was fully processing what had just happened. He couldn't stop remembering the moment he'd heard Sarah several floors above him, struggling with someone twice her size. Or her horrified heartbeat as she'd had to watch him torture someone—again—because she'd come back in the building and been recognized. He knew most of the anger that was coiling tightly in his chest was aimed at himself more than her, but he also knew if he tried talking to her right now he'd probably say something he'd regret.

Sarah was walking a few paces behind him, taking her steps more carefully as she tried not to trip over anything in the dark.

"You're mad at me," she said.

"Yeah," he said shortly.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Sarah was quiet for a moment. "I was trying to help."

He just nodded tightly, not trusting himself to say much else. His silence seemed to frustrate her.

"No answer. Of course. There's those open communication skills you're so good at," she muttered under her breath.

Matt's patience snapped, and he spun around to face her so suddenly that Sarah had to come to a stumbling halt to avoid running directly into him.

"What were you thinking?" Matt exclaimed. The panic and anger coursing through him made the words came out loud and harsh.

Sarah flinched. Just for a second, and her heartbeat remained steady—more of a reflex than any actual fear, but it made Matt's stomach twist all the same. This wasn't what he wanted; he didn't want to scare her, to be yelling at her in alleyways again. He knew that if she'd gotten hurt doing something other than trying to help him, he wouldn't be reacting this way. But she hadn't, and he was.

"I—"

"You were safe! Both of you were safe. Why would you come back in?"

Now Sarah's pulse was pounding as angrily as his was. "The alarm was going off. You were getting hurt!"

"I don't care. There were conditions to me bringing you along. Run if I tell you to, and don't put yourself in danger. You didn't do any of those things," he said.

"I was going to! But it—I didn't—things changed!" she said, struggling to find the words.

"You said you would follow my plan and trust me to keep you safe. Did you just say that so I'd bring you in there with me?"

"What? No," Sarah said incredulously. "Of course I trust you to keep me safe, I just…don't always trust you to keep you safe."

Matt threw his hands up. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I know you couldn't hear anything over that alarm and I got scared. People were shooting at you! I could hear them!" she exclaimed. She took a breath, the exhaustion in her tone becoming much more apparent. "I…I couldn't just leave you there. What did you want me to do?"

The irrational side of him wanted to yell at her that he wanted her to do whatever she had to do to keep safe. But below his anger he knew that he'd been struggling during that fight. His arm was still burning from where a bullet had whizzed by, just barely nicking his skin. He didn't usually let bullets get that close to him, but the shrieking alarm bouncing off of every surface had obscured most of the noises around him he usually relied on, messed up his ability to gauge distances.

Several stories above them, a window slammed open, and an angry female voice yelled down to them.

"Oye—estamos durmiendo! Callate!" the woman yelled.

Matt paused. He could tell from the lack of buzzing streetlights that they were concealed by shadows, so he wasn't worried about the woman being able to see them.

"What'd she say?" Sarah asked.

"She wants us to shut up." His explanation was punctuated by the window being slammed shut again.

There was a pause, and then Sarah let out a short, surprised laugh. Her shoulders sagged as what was left of her energy to argue seemed to leave her. She lifted her hand to touch the back of her head and sucked in a pained breath between her teeth.

"Dammit," she whispered.

The exhaustion was starting to displace anger for Matt, too. He didn't want to stand around and fight with her right now. He just wanted to get home.

Matt took a step closer, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. His gloves were covered in dried blood, and she was pissed at him anyhow.

"I thought you were safe," he said, keeping his voice much quieter. "You said you were leaving. I heard you go. And I…took you off my radar. If something had happened to you—"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. Sarah's heartbeat skipped.

"I'm fine, Matt," Sarah said softly. But she wasn't. In fact, she was swaying slightly on her feet even as she spoke. He knew she was probably just tired, but she'd hit her head pretty hard. He didn't think she had a concussion, but he hadn't been able to tell last time either, had he?

"Come on," he said quietly, turning down a small, deserted side street.

"Isn't the way back that way?" she asked, pointing in the opposite direction.

"Yeah. We have to make a pit stop before I take you home."

He just hoped the person they were going to see would be awake and in the mood to help.

---

For once, Claire Temple was having a good morning. Yes, she'd been getting scheduled for the early morning shift at the hospital lately, meaning she had to be up at the ungodly hour of 3 a.m. to get to work on time. But she didn't mind it so much. The morning was usually quiet and peaceful—or, at least as quiet as Hell's Kitchen ever got. She could enjoy her coffee and actually make something besides toast for breakfast before having to leave for work.

But today was not meant to stay peaceful, and by 3:30 she ended up with two bone-tired and battered black-clad visitors standing in her living room. She shook her head as she gave both Matt and Sarah a cursory glance up and down.

"Good to see Matt's fashion sense is catching on," Claire said dryly, raising an eyebrow at Sarah's black hoodie and pants. "Which one of you am I checking out first?"

"Her," Matt said firmly, batting Sarah's hand away when she tried to indicate towards him.

Claire cast a doubtful look his way, her eyes lingering on the red smears across his skin. "Are you sure? It looks like you're the one covered in blood."

An uncomfortable grimace flickered across Matt's mouth.

"It's not mine," he said. "And anyway, Sarah took a hit to the head."

Claire turned to the woman in question, who at least looked significantly better than the last time she'd had a head injury.

"You hit your head?" Claire asked her. "Or someone else hit your head with something?"

Sarah thought about it for a second. "Someone used my head to hit a wall."

Of course.

Claire sighed. "Anything else?"

"Uh…" Sarah glanced over at Matt warily. "I got a little bit…tased."

Claire paused. She hadn't been expecting that. "Excuse me?"

Sarah just shrugged. Matt looked deeply unhappy.

It took some real effort not to throw her arms up in exasperation two minutes into this conversation.

"Okay. Come on, let's take a look."

"I think Matt has some broken ribs," Sarah mumbled as she followed Claire over to the kitchen table. "If anyone else cares about that."

Before Matt could wave away her concerns, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Claire saw his mouth twist as he bit back what seemed like a very frustrated reaction to a phone call. He slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved the burner phone, working his jaw angrily.

"Can I take this in your room?" Matt asked Claire.

Claire rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up. "Sure, help yourself. This is an all-inclusive hospital experience."

"Thanks," he said, too distracted to pay much mind to her sarcasm.

The phone he was holding seemed to interest Sarah, who watched him leave the room with a mixture of curiosity and scrutiny, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

Good luck with that, Claire thought.

"What kind of guy is so secretive that he needs two burner phones?" she asked Claire, her eyes still on the closed bedroom door.

Claire followed her gaze to the door as she dragged her kitchen chair in front of Sarah's so they were facing each other. She hadn't noticed the burner phone was any different than his usual one.

"The kind you choose to run around with at night?" Claire hazarded. She picked up a small flashlight from her medical kit. "Look this way."

Sarah obediently brought her attention back to Claire.

"Did you lose consciousness when you hit your head?" Claire asked, shining the flashlight in Sarah's left eye. She winced at the bright light.

"No."

"Did you vomit?"

"Nope."

"Any dizziness?" Claire moved the light over to Sarah's right eye. "Disorientation?"

"Just a headache. It's not like when I…" Sarah trailed off with an uncomfortable shrug. "You know."

Claire raised her eyebrows. She did know; she hadn't forgotten Sarah ending up in her emergency room with a nasty combination of head injury, prescription pain killers, and alcohol.

"Follow this for me," she said, holding the flashlight up over her right shoulder. Sarah's eyes tracked the light as Claire moved it in front her face and off to the left.

Satisfied, Claire clicked the flashlight off and turned Sarah's chin slightly to get a look at the back of her head, where her hair was matted with blood. The angle was high on her head, consistent with having her head snapped back into a wall, just like she'd said. Luckily the amount of blood was minimal for a head wound; it looked more like a bad scrape than anything else.

"Well, your head seems okay, aside from some minor bleeding. No uneven pupils, no nausea. Vision and speech seem fine. I don't think you have a concussion. As for the stun gun…they're painful, but they don't usually have any serious lasting effects in people without heart conditions," Claire said. "So, I give you a bill of mostly clean health. Unofficially. But take it easy for the next couple of days, just in case. Don't let Matt drag you along on his adventures for a while.

"Matt didn't drag me along so much as I made him bring me," Sarah admitted.

"That would explain the bad mood."

She nodded. "He's just pissed because I got hurt."

"Yeah. I think you really scared him when you got a concussion last time," Claire said. She held out a bottle of aspirin for Sarah to take.

"You mean the concussion?" Sarah said with a frown as she accepted the bottle and started twisting the cap off. "That was more like a couple times ago, actually."

As Sarah swallowed the aspirin, Claire took a moment to study her face, and how different she looked now compared to the first time they'd met in Matt's apartment.

Claire hadn't been given much information when asked to come that first night, but she'd assumed she'd be helping some kind of highly trained, femme fatale version of Matt. So it had been a surprise to instead meet Sarah: strikingly pale and painfully thin, with wide, distrustful blue eyes set in a face that would have been pretty if not for the cuts and bruises on nearly every inch of visible skin. Friendly enough in a cautious way, but ready to bolt at any second.

She remembered she'd been worried about this seemingly brittle, traumatized woman who had gotten caught up in Matt's dangerous world. She'd been concerned that whatever they were doing would just break her down more, further add to the hopeless air she had about her.

But looking at Sarah now, her prediction seemed to have been wrong. Admittedly, it wasn't great that she was injured again, but at least she didn't look like someone had used her as a punching bag. Still thin, but the angles of her face were less sharp than they had been; her cheekbones a little less hollow and her eyes a little brighter despite the dark circles underneath. And she seemed steadier, somehow; less like an easily spooked stray.

"You know, for someone who claims that she doesn't go around fighting crime, you seem to get hurt pretty often," Claire informed her.

"I know," Sarah said with a trace of a wry smile. "That's how I got bullied into self-defense lessons."

"Right, the patented Matt Murdock overprotectiveness. As far as I've figured out, there's no way to avoid it," Claire said.

"It's okay. I...actually don't mind it that much," she admitted.

"Really?" Claire was a little surprised.

She shrugged.

"I mean, it's frustrating, don't get me wrong. I feel like I spend half my time getting lectured about being more careful, or being yelled at for getting, like, a papercut," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. She paused. "But…the only time I ever feel safe is when I'm with Matt. And I figure that's probably in part because of how ridiculously over-the-top serious he is about keeping me safe."

"I see," Claire said, a small smile playing across her lips. She had her own suspicions for why Sarah didn't mind Matt's overprotectiveness too terribly much.

"But he doesn't need any encouragement, so…don't tell him that," Sarah added.

"Don't tell me what?" Matt's voice came from across the room as he quietly closed the bedroom door.

Sarah and Claire both jumped. Neither of them had even heard him emerge from the bedroom. How did he possibly move so silently wearing those ridiculous combat boots? Even now he barely made any noise as he crossed the room to stand next to Sarah's chair.

"That you dragged Sarah to my apartment in the dead of night for nothing," Claire told him. "She's fine."

"Never better," Sarah said.

"I wouldn't say that. That headache of yours probably won't go away any time soon. And that exhausted feeling in your muscles right now, like you just ran ten miles?" Claire prompted. She'd treated enough arrestees in the emergency room who'd had to be subdued by police tasers that she was familiar with the drill by now.

"Yeah?"

"That'll turn into some killer soreness pretty soon. So you have that to look forward to."

"Great," Sarah said weakly.

"But she's alright?" Matt clarified. He tilted his head towards Sarah. "You're alright?"

"I'm fine."

Matt's agitation seemed to soften with the news that Sarah didn't have a concussion.

"Good."

"Now it's your turn," Claire said, indicating the chair next to Sarah. Matt's brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you think I forgot about your possibly broken ribs?"

He grimaced in return. Apparently he'd been hoping she had, in fact, forgotten.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Oh, no. You interrupted my peaceful morning, so you're not leaving until I get a better look at you," she said firmly. She gestured to the open chair once more.

With a sigh, Matt sat down. In the chair next to him, Sarah slunk down, leaning her head against the back of it and covering her eyes with her hand to block out the light. It seemed safe to assume the aspirin had yet to kick in.

Before Claire could even begin to look at Matt's ribs, a bloody gash in his sleeve caught her attention.

"What's this?"

"Ah—nothing," Matt hedged.

Claire pursed her lips in disapproval and leaned in closer to check it out. At first the wound underneath appeared to be a shallow knife slash, but upon closer inspection, she realized the edges were too neat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this looks like a gunshot wound," Claire observed, pulling the edges of the fabric away from the wound on his bicep.

Sarah opened her eyes and sat up straighter. "What?"

"It's barely a graze," he said reluctantly.

Sarah's mouth fell open in surprise and—strangely enough—what looked like indignation.

"You got shot!" Sarah accused him.

"Barely," he insisted again.

"You made it seem like you weren't in any danger!" she exclaimed. "Like I came back in there for no good reason! You—are you kidding me?"

Sarah smacked Matt hard on his uninjured arm, and he swiftly caught her wrist as she pulled it away.

"Hey, hey," he warned, tightening his fingers so she couldn't hit him again. "I know. I'm sorry."

Claire watched their exchange with a mix of exasperation and confusion.

"I'm going to grab some antiseptic swabs," she said loudly, hoping to prevent anything from escalating further. "Please try not to kill each other in the two seconds I'll be gone."

They both nodded, but Sarah's eyes were still on Matt. Some of the anger drained from her face as her features faded into worry, and she shifted sideways in her chair to face him, trying to get a better look at the graze on his arm. Matt was still holding onto her wrist, as though wary she might smack him again. Claire eyed them both for another second before walking over to the duffle bag full of medical supplies that was open on her counter.

So help me, if I never meet another vigilante in my life it'll be too soon, Claire thought to herself as she dug through the bag.

As she turned back to them, she saw that Matt's hold on Sarah's wrist had slipped into a loose intertwining of their fingers. She hid a grin as her suspicions from earlier grew stronger.

"Here," she said as she returned to the table. Upon her approach, Matt and Sarah quietly unlinked their hands. Claire handed him a few swabs. "I don't think you'll need any stitches. Just put some antiseptic on it while I check out your ribs."

Claire positioned a chair in front of Matt and pushed his shirt up so she could check the skin for discoloration. Sure enough, the entire left side of his torso was a vivid purple-blue. The injury to his ribs wasn't from tonight, but getting into more fights had no doubt made it worse. She lightly pressed two fingers to the bruised area, and a flash of pain flickered across Matt's face.

"Breathe in," she instructed him. She didn't feel anything moving out of place as he inhaled, which was a good sign—it at least meant he wasn't going to puncture any of his internal organs any time soon.

She looked over at Sarah, who was watching with more interest than seemed necessary, medically speaking. Claire followed her gaze to Matt's abs and snorted. Honestly, she couldn't blame her for staring.

"Now breathe out," she said, shifting her fingers down a few inches.

Matt winced again as he exhaled, but didn't seem to be in any excruciating pain. Certainly not the worst she'd seen him.

"Well, it doesn't seem like anything is broken enough to have moved out of place. But with this level of bruising, a few hairline fractures seems like a fair guess. I can't tell for sure without proper x-rays," she said. She didn't know why she even mentioned it; there was no way she'd be able to lure Matt into an x-ray lab. "You probably can, though. Any creaking ships in there?"

Matt breathed out a laugh. "There's nothing we can do about it. Just needs time to heal."

His vague lack of a real answer didn't go unnoticed by Claire, but she let it slide. She handed him a pad of gauze to tape to the graze on his bicep.

"And you'll do the—"

"—deep breathing exercises? Yes," he assured her.

"I mean it. Do not come falling in my window with pneumonia, Matt Murdock."

"I would never," he said. He moved to pull his shirt back down.

"Hold on," Claire said, reaching a hand out to pause him. Her attention had been caught by a long scar across his abdomen, not too far from the ones Matt had gotten from his fight with that ninja who had dragged him around like a fish on a hook. Except the way this scar had been stitched up was a little messier and more noticeable—definitely not her own work.

"You stitched this up, I'm guessing?" Claire asked Sarah, indicating the scar. Sarah sent her a guilty look, as though it had been a reprimand.

"Yeah. You can tell? Are the stitches that bad?"

"Actually no. They're not too bad. Especially for not having been done by a medical professional. But come here. Let me show you something." Sarah shifted her chair closer, facing Matt, and Claire pushed his shirt up a little more to show her the older, much lighter scar from her own stitches. "See how you can barely see this? If you want it to look like that, you have to make your stitches closer together. It'll also make them less likely to rip out when whoever you're stitching up refuses to stay still and rest like they're supposed to."

She sent a pointed look at the man sitting in front of her, despite knowing he couldn't see it.

Matt let out a sigh through his tightly clenched jaw. "Is this necessary?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you just want to stitch yourself up from now on?" Claire shot back.

He held his hands up in surrender, allowing the two women to inspect the various scars on his torso.

The situation seemed to be making Matt uncomfortable on several different levels, and part of Claire was dying to tease him about it. She was well aware she was one of the only people in Hell's Kitchen who could tease the Devil to his face and walk away, and if she didn't exploit that on occasion then what kind of fun was she having? But the professional side of her won out, and she refrained.

Once Claire was done using Matt's torso as an example of good and bad stitching, she let him pull his shirt down and stand from his chair.

"Alright. We should probably get going," Matt said. "Before it starts to get light out."

Claire glanced at the clock; they still had some time before sunrise. She sighed.

"Or if you'll both sit still and rest for just another…fifteen minutes, I'll put on a second pot of coffee," she bargained. They should really be resting for several hours—or in Matt's case, several weeks—but for now, she would settle for making them take another few minutes of rest and some strong caffeine before sending them back out into the night.

Matt shook his head, his lips already parting to turn down her offer. But then he hesitated, focusing in Sarah's direction. She had her eyes closed again, resting her head on her hand with her elbow propped up on the table. His expression wavered.

"Yeah. That would be great, actually," Matt said. "Thanks, Claire."

Claire raised her eyebrows. So that's how you get that boy to take care of himself. Just hitch another person's wellbeing onto his.

As she measured out the ground coffee into a filter, she snuck a look at her two patients out of the corner of her eye. Sarah was still resting her head on her hand, but her eyes were open now, studying Matt with concern. She asked him something in hushed tones, and Claire was surprised to see a faint smile cross his lips. Whatever he said in reply made her laugh quietly even as she let her eyes drift shut, practically looking like she might pass out on the spot. In fact, both of them looked like they could probably fall asleep right there, with their fingers once again loosely hooked together in the small space between their chairs.

Despite the general level of annoyance atone another they'd showed up with, there was a level of intimacy in their small movements that almost made Claire feel like she was intruding just by witnessing it.

Good, she thought, concealing a small smile as she turned her attention back to the coffee maker. Matt deserved to find intimacy with someone. Maybe now he and Claire could actually be friends without the pressure of her being the sole source of comfort and normalcy in his double life. She had realized early on that for as attractive as she found Matt—and she had no shame admitting she still found him ridiculously attractive—she wasn't at all prepared for the intensity of filling that role. But maybe now he'd found someone who was.

When she returned to the table with the coffee they had both straightened up a bit, and were no longer holding hands. Did these two really think they were sneaky?

"Two coffees," she said, setting a mug down in front of each of them. "And I do charge for refills."

"Thanks," Sarah said, flashing her a grateful smile. Matt murmured something similar.

They drank their coffee in relative quiet, which suited Claire just fine. Maybe she could enjoy a semi-peaceful morning before work after all. When their mugs were empty, Matt stood to leave, and Sarah slowly followed suit.

"Thanks for free check up," Sarah said.

"You guys are just lucky I had to be up right now to get to my shift at the hospital," Claire said. She shot Matt a suspicious look. "You have my schedule memorized or something?"

Matt flashed a grin—that same cocky half-smile that had made her fall for him so quickly when they first met. "That would be ridiculous."

"Sure. Don't start showing up here at the crack of dawn all the time just because you know I'll be up," she said, then glanced over at Sarah. "That goes for you, too. Matt's right, you need to be more careful."

"I thought you were on my side," Sarah grumbled.

"Uh, I'm on the side of everyone who doesn't show up at my doorstep in the middle of the night," Claire corrected her. "That disqualifies both of you."

Sarah winced apologetically as she gathered her hair over one shoulder and pulled her hood up to conceal it, while Matt just grinned and reached for his mask.

"Thank you, Claire," he said, as sincerely as he always thanked her. But he said her name differently now; the warmth was still there, but his voice didn't lilt around the 'a' like it once had, like her name was something precious to him. Claire suspected that tone was reserved for someone else now, and she could only hope that it would work out better for him this time than it had with her.

---

They didn't talk on the way back to Sarah's apartment, but it wasn't the tense silence from earlier. Matt was still agitated, but now it wasn't because of Sarah.

It was because of Stick.

He had planned to meet up with Stick that night to help him track down some safe house he was convinced the Yakuza had set up. Matt wasn't thrilled about helping him, but that was his end of the bargain: he helped Stick with his mission, and Stick would help him with Orion when the time came. And more importantly, he would stay away from Sarah.

But their plans had gotten sidelined by Rob's sudden appearance and his pleas for them to save his son. Matt hadn't bothered to tell Stick he would no longer be meeting him at his apartment; he figured it would become apparent when he didn't show.

But Stick had called him while they were at Claire's, and Matt had agreed to briefly meet up with him—if only to ensure that he didn't unexpectedly show up at Claire's place while they were there. So when they got to Sarah's apartment and she told him she'd let him in through the window, he shook his head.

"I…have to go do something," he said. "Just real quick. Ten minutes."

"Oh—you're leaving?" Sarah sounded surprised.

"I'll be right nearby. Close enough to hear if you need anything."

"What are you going to do?" she asked in confusion.

Matt hesitated. "I'll just be ten minutes. Okay?"

"…yeah. Okay."

Matt waited until he heard her close and lock the door to her apartment before he headed towards the roof of a nearby building where Stick was waiting for him.

"Look who actually decided to show up," Stick said as soon as Matt landed on the roof.

"I had a problem I had to go deal with. There was this boy…" Matt stopped himself. Why even bother trying to explain? "Nevermind. You wouldn't understand."

"A boy," Stick scoffed. "He was what, sixteen? He's an adult."

Matt clenched his jaw. Stick really seemed to have a tenuous hold on what qualified as a grown adult. How many times had he told Matt to man up and stop acting like a child when he'd been training him? How old had Matt been then? Ten?

Then Matt's exhausted brain caught up to the fact that Stick knew what kid Matt was talking about in the first place.

"You were spying on me tonight," he said in disbelief.

"You didn't show up at the agreed upon time. So I came looking."

"Looking, but not helping." Stick had to have heard the chaos that Matt and Sarah were dealing with inside that place.

"You said in no unclear terms that I was to stay away from your girl," Stick said. "You didn't make any exception for stupid decisions."

"So you just listened to someone try to kill her?" Matt asked.

"I did," Stick acknowledged. "She's weak."

"She held her own."

"Whatever you say, kid. Besides, I did help. I took care of your little problem."

"What problem?" he asked. He was too tired to play Stick's games right now.

"The goon you were so concerned might rat you two out."

Matt stopped cold.

"…what?"

"You're too soft, Matty. You can't be wishy-washy with guys like that and expect it'll be enough to get what you want."

"What did you do, Stick?" he asked dangerously.

"I put him down. The way you should have done in the first place."

There was a ringing in Matt's ears that had nothing to do with the alarm from earlier. Stick had killed someone behind Matt's back. Again.

"You had no right to do that," he snarled.

"You know who gets the right to do something? The people who actually go out and do it."

"Is this why you wanted to meet me?" Matt demanded hotly. "To rub it in my face that you killed another person right under my nose?"

"I asked to meet so I could remind you that we have a deal. You want my help? You want me to steer clear of your girlfriend? Show up when you're supposed to," Stick said sternly.

"Or what? You'll keep spying on me? On Sarah?"

"She should be thanking me. By snapping that guy's neck I did more to keep her alive in five seconds than you've done since you met her."

Matt clenched his fists. "You're full of shit."

"You're right," Stick said sarcastically. "You're doing a great job of protecting your girl, Matty. Really showing me how wrong I was about you two."

Stick was being an asshole, but as usual he sort of had a point. Just what had been the highlight of Matt's actions tonight? Bringing Sarah into a dangerous situation, letting her get attacked, or yelling at her about it?

"What I do to protect her is none of your business," he said as evenly as he could. "I don't kill people. You know that. And you don't get to kill people in my name."

"He was dead either way," Stick told him flatly. "No one who fails so spectacularly at a job like that gets to walk away in one piece, even if he took your advice and ran for it. The only difference was whether he got to rat you two out before he died."

This entire conversation was more than Matt could handle right now. He'd had a disaster of a night, and letting Stick get in his head wasn't helping matters.

"Well, if that's all you needed to say, I have to go deal with more important things," he said. "We missed the window for anyone being at your safe house anyway. We can try again another night."

He turned to leave before Stick could try to provoke him into another argument. This was making his blood boil, and he needed to calm down before he went back to Sarah's.

"Priorities, Matty," Stick called after him. His voice echoed around the rooftop as Matt left him behind. "You gotta get them straight, and soon."

---

Back in her apartment, Sarah winced as she shrugged off her hoodie. Her whole body felt heavy and difficult to move. She brought her fingers to the back of her head, hesitantly pressing at the sore spot. It didn't hurt too bad; and there didn't seem to be any fresh blood mixed in with the dried.

As usual lately, her apartment was unbearably hot. Even after she changed out of her heavy black outfit and into her usual cotton shorts and t-shirt, it still felt like it was a thousand degrees inside. It was an unfortunate downside of not having air conditioning and also not having the option of safely leaving a window cracked while she was gone all day.

She shoved the living room window open to let in the night breeze, but the effect was minimal. Still, she paused at the opening and let the cooler air creep around her, eyeing the fire escape on the other side as she debated just waiting for Matt out there. After all, he was always insisting that it wasn't going to collapse.

Making her decision, Sarah flattened her palms against the windowsill and lifted herself through, tentatively resting her shoes against the fire escape. It made a creaking sound of complaint, but felt sturdy enough. She lowered herself down to sit on the cool metal with her back against the brick wall of the building, drawing her knees up to her chest and looking out into the darkness.

A short while later, she heard a noise somewhere above her and off to the left. She squinted up into the shadows, trying to spot movement. But she couldn't spot Matt until he had landed on the ledge of the building next to hers, pausing there for a second before jumping onto her fire escape. He cocked his head in confusion.

"This is new," he noted.

Sarah leaned her head back against the wall to look up at him. "I never get to see how you actually get on here. You always just kind of appear out of the shadows. You really jump from all the way up there every time? Even when you're hurt?"

"Pretty much. You'd rather I come to the front door?"

He settled on the fire escape beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers and his legs stretched out next to her so that his heavy combat boots rested against the bottom of the railing. He pulled off his mask, then his gloves, tossing them to the side.

"Mrs. Benedict would get a kick out of it, at least," Sarah said. "Did you get your mysterious task done?"

Matt hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Yes."

He didn't elaborate. She hadn't really expected him to. She wondered if Matt really thought he was so stealthy that she couldn't tell he was still mixed up with Stick. The mysterious second burner phone, the unwillingness to tell her who he was going to meet, the current of agitation running through his frame—there was only one person she'd ever seen get under his skin like that. But if there was any subject they were both too exhausted to deal with tonight, it was Stick.

So, she changed the subject.

"You mind if we stay out here?" she asked, pushing her hair out of her face. "It's a million degrees in my apartment."

She saw Matt's shoulders ease back in relief when she didn't press further. In a way, she was relieved, too; she didn't feel like watching him try to come up with a lie. Secretiveness was built into his DNA, just like hers. And Matt had to coerce even the mildest truths out of her on a regular basis; if it weren't for his lie-detecting abilities she probably wouldn't be brave enough to tell him half of what she did. She couldn't exactly call him out for doing the same thing she did all the time.

"I didn't think you'd ever touch this thing," he said.

"Yeah. You always seem pretty insistent that it won't collapse, but…" Sarah shrugged. "I figure if it does it just means I don't have to deal with Jason tomorrow, so...win-win."

"Jason has no reason to suspect you were involved in this right? He didn't tell you or anyone else at Orion about what he was doing. As far as he knows, you don't even know that Tyler was taken to begin with. You have plausible deniability," Matt said.

Sarah shook her head at that. Always a lawyer.

"Yeah, maybe if he was taking me to court. I think he likes to pursue his hunches in a more…hammer-y way," Sarah said gloomily. "And that guy…he saw my face. He recognized me, he knows I work for Jason."

She thought she saw a flash of guilt cross Matt's face. Was he feeling bad about torturing the man? If anyone should feel bad about that, it was Sarah; she as the reason he'd had to do it.

"You don't have to worry about him," Matt said.

Sarah blinked. "How can you be so sure?"

"I just am."

She was surprised at how certain he sounded. It stood in strange contrast to the way he was tapping his fingers on the fire escape almost...anxiously?

"Matt, you're a scary guy, but not everyone you threaten is going to leave town just because you tell them to," she said.

"No, he—he meant it when he said he was leaving. I...could tell when I asked him," Matt insisted. Asked in this case meaning: broke all the bones in his hands until he told the truth.

"You know, that built-in lie detector is kind of handy when you're not using it on me," she said. "But I'll never understand how sometimes you swear by it and other times you aren't so sure."

"I know. It's hard to explain. But he won't identify you. Just…trust me," Matt said.

Something about his demeanor still seemed weirdly evasive to her, but maybe it was just the exhaustion of the night catching up with her.

"Okay," she said simply. "Of course."

"I know you're nervous. If you want, I can stay nearby when you're at work tomorrow, to make sure nothing happens," he offered.

"No. You're supposed to take those last few depositions tomorrow."

"I'll reschedule."

Sarah shook her head. "The trial begins Thursday. You won't have time."

Matt tilted his head towards her, one corner of his lips tugging upwards. "When did I start telling you so much about my job?"

She shrugged. "It's a thing people do. Complain to each other about their jobs. I do it all the time, you might have noticed."

"Your job is significantly more complaint worthy than mine," he said. "But you'll be fine tomorrow. I know at this point it probably doesn't mean anything when I say I won't let anything happen to you, but—"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she interrupted him.

He gave her a blank look, like the answer was obvious. "I've promised you time and time again that I'd keep you from getting hurt. But it keeps happening anyway."

"You said you'd keep me safe, not that I'd get away without a scratch."

Matt made a noncommittal hum. "You've gotten more than just scratched."

"I don't know. I think I look pretty good, considering," she said. She held her arms out in front of her, inspecting them. There was only one visible hint of the night's scuffle, and that was the row of ugly scratches from where the man had dug his fingernails into her arm. "You know, for a minute I really thought maybe I'd actually win a fight for once."

She was embarrassed to admit it, and wouldn't have been surprised if Matt laughed at the idea. But he didn't.

"You kind of did win."

Sarah let out a sharp laugh. "I think that you having to step in and save me means I didn't."

"And I think him having to resort to using a stun gun on someone half his size means you did," Matt countered. There was an edge to his voice when he mentioned the stun gun, and Sarah had to wonder what more he might have done to that guy had she not been there to witness it.

"I think you're just trying to make me feel better. But I'll take it. It's better than getting yelled at, at least."

"Right," he said with a wince. "Sorry. I kind of lost my temper."

He had, but she hadn't exactly helped. It had occurred to her about two seconds after Matt started yelling that she probably should have given him some time to cool down from his Daredevil persona before picking a fight with him.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "I was yelling, too."

He appeared to be contemplating something, so she waited.

"I, uh…I'm usually alone," he said finally.

That wasn't what she'd been expecting him to say. She turned her head to watch him curiously, but she didn't say anything yet.

"When I go out as Daredevil, I mean," he clarified. Sarah couldn't help but think he'd been more accurate the first time. "I'm not used to…having someone else with me while I'm doing something like that."

"Yeah, you didn't seem to like it very much."

"I didn't like you being in danger. But Tyler needed help And…having someone to watch my back wasn't…the worst thing," he admitted begrudgingly.

She watched him closely. She didn't think he was lying, but he seemed to be more pained by having to admit that she was helpful than he was by his broken ribs or other various injuries.

"So, having a partner was…helpful, you could say?" she prompted him, knocking her knee against his. He grinned at the needling and rested a hand on her knee.

"As a one-time thing. Okay?" he said. The grin faded from his face as he grew serious. "Just…promise me you won't do something like that again. Putting yourself in danger just to try to help me. It's not worth it."

Sarah hesitated, then glanced away from him; she knew that wasn't a promise she could make. With anyone else she would probably just lie and say yes to make them feel better. But Matt didn't get the luxury of being comforted by little white lies.

He was still waiting for an answer.

"I..." Sarah trailed off helplessly. "I can't promise that. You'll be able to tell I'm not telling the truth. You always can."

Matt groaned and knocked his head back against the wall. "Sarah—"

"No, don't lecture me again about staying safe. Matt, you…you get torn apart every night. I mean, I know you give as good as you get, but at least the beatings you give out are spread out over a whole bunch of people. Their violence is all centered on you. I know because I'm the one who gets to see the aftermath."

A shadow of guilt crossed his face again.

"I know," he whispered.

"And I'm happy to help you when you're injured, I really am," she added quickly. More guilt was the last thing she was aiming for with this talk. "But—being able to stop you from getting hurt that badly to begin with? That's not something I usually get a chance to do. And it's probably not an opportunity that will come up very often, but if it did...of course I'd do it again. If it meant you'd get hurt a little less? That I could…take a little bit of that pain from you? Of course I'd do it. It wouldn't be a question."

She knew she was probably ruining her chances of ever getting to come along on another mission with him, but at the moment she didn't care.

Matt's hand tightened on her knee.

"Don't—don't say things like that," he said.

Not too long ago, Matt had knelt in front of her on her living room floor while she tried not to slip into a panic attack, and he'd held a towel to her bleeding neck and let her know with surprising frankness where she stood on his list of priorities.

"Of course I picked you," he had told her. "I'd…pick you over most things, when it comes down to it. Whether you believe that or not."

She remembered how overwhelmed she'd been by his words, like she couldn't breathe. It was surprisingly unnerving to hear how much you meant to someone; how was she supposed to relay that same message back to someone who was even more emotionally closed off than she was?

"Why not? Because you don't think you're worth it?"

"Because I signed up for this. You didn't."

"Well—now I am. Consider me signed up," she said simply.

"Sarah…"

"We don't have to argue about it. Like I said…what are the chances that opportunity would come up again?"

"Zero, if I have any control over it."

"I just…" Sarah hesitated, reaching up to trace a bruise that was beginning to form at his temple. "I don't want you to think that you're the only person in this city who's not worth protecting."

Matt's face was unreadable. Of course. God, he was so frustrating. Nothing seemed to spook him more than suggesting he had some sort of worth beyond his self-sacrificial tendencies. The criminal underworld of New York would be thrilled if they ever discovered such a simple secret to making the Devil of Hell's Kitchen flee in the opposite direction: any kind of affirmation would seemingly do the trick.

Sarah tried to lighten to mood, or at least to clear some of the dark pensiveness in Matt's face.

"I haven't seen you look this mad at me since the night you first met me," she joked.

He didn't laugh. She wasn't surprised.

"I'm not mad at you. I just don't understand you sometimes." He was idly tracing patterns on her leg now, not even seeming to notice. But she certainly noticed, watching as his fingers trailed across her skin just above her knee. "Still."

"Right, right. Because I'm the inscrutable one out of the two of us," she said.

"I think so."

"You have superpowers to help you read people," she protested. "I have to deal with a very taciturn vigilante with no extra senses to help me."

"Sorry," he said with a lopsided smile. It was a tired one, but she'd take it.

They sat without speaking for a while before Sarah checked the time on her phone.

"God, I have work in…two hours," she groaned. She still couldn't stop thinking about the man from earlier having seen her face. Despite Matt's strange certainty, she wasn't quite as convinced that they were in the clear. "Hopefully I don't show up to a building full of people who know I'm a spy."

Matt was quiet for a minute, his forehead creased in thought.

"What if you didn't have to go?" he asked suddenly.

Sarah gave him a confused look. "Well, I do."

"I know. But if you didn't. If Orion…disappeared today, and you were done with it all. How would you spend your day?"

Sarah blinked at him, a small smile forming on her lips; she hadn't really thought of Matt as being the type to indulge in hypothetical fantasies. He always seemed too painfully serious for that. Part of her suspected he was only doing it to distract her from worrying about her cover getting blown, but she didn't mind. She thought about it for a moment, feeling self-conscious that no grand and thrilling celebratory plans came to mind.

"Um…I don't know. Go out for a nice dinner to celebrate," she tried. That sounded like something normal people did when they wanted to celebrate.

He narrowed his eyes in her direction suspiciously, then shook his head with a smirk.

"Liar," he said. "Come on, give me a real answer."

Sarah laughed, but it was interrupted by a yawn. She figured she might as well be honest. "Alright. I'd probably sleep. Like…all day long. I'm talking midnight to midnight, at least."

Maybe it was the exhaustion that pushed sleep to be the first thing she thought of, like shopping on an empty stomach, but at the moment it very much felt like the right answer.

"That's your exciting plan?" he asked in disbelief. "Sleeping?"

"It would be very exciting sleep. Since no one would be actively trying to kill me, I could nap with all my windows open, and all my doors unlocked," Sarah said. She stretched her arms above her head, already imagining the peaceful sleep she could get if Orion was wiped off the face of the planet.

Matt paused, his brow knitting into a disapproving frown. "Not a fan of that idea."

"Alright," Sarah allowed with a laugh. "If you're that concerned, you can be there, too. To make sure everything's safe."

"Yeah?" he said, his eyebrows raised.

"Mm-hm. But just for security purposes. No funny business."

Matt's lips twitched.

"If you say so." His fingers were still lazily trailing across her leg. "Is that your whole plan? Just sleep for hours?"

"What, that's not a good enough answer?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, fine," she said, closing her eyes and thinking about it. "I'd…go upstate. Somewhere quieter."

"And do what?"

"Not much. When I was younger I used to go up to Lake Seneca with my cousins, before they moved away. My aunt would rent out a cabin for a week or two in the summer, and it was always…peaceful. We'd stay up really late after my aunt went to bed, just listening to music on this ancient stereo and eating junk food," she said. She glanced over at Matt to see him listening intently with a faint smile, as though she were describing something much more interesting than your standard cabin vacation. "And…we'd go swimming in the mornings, and then sleep in the afternoons when it got hot."

"Of course. Back to napping."

"It's still the main goal," she insisted. "I'd have to find a different bodyguard, though. Mine doesn't set foot outside New York City."

Matt tilted his head in contemplation. "I could…probably make an exception."

Sarah's eyebrows went up.

"Really?" she said in disbelief. Sure, it was an entirely hypothetical situation, made up to distract her from the dread of tomorrow. But coming from the guy who had never left New York in his life—not only that, but who didn't even see anything weird about having never left? She was honestly surprised even Imaginary Matt would agree to such a thing.

"Yeah. If there was some kind of…really good incentive to go spend a week in a cabin with you, sure," he said innocently.

Sarah's face flushed with heat even as she laughed. Matt grinned at that, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time that night. She was so glad to see the skin at the corners of his eyes crease, so relieved to see him step briefly out of all his guilt and frustration.

On impulse, she leaned over and kissed him, soft and quick, letting her fingertips curve against his cheekbone. The metal underneath them creaked from the shifting of her weight. When she broke away she saw his eyes were open now, fixed directly on her as his brow furrowed curiously.

"Just—for the record," she said haltingly, her hand lingering at his face as she tried to gather her words. "You always sticking around is why I still believe you when you talk about protecting me. Not that I don't appreciate you always saving me from bad guys, because I do, but just staying with me...that's always been how you've made me feel safe." She pressed another fleeting kiss to his lips before he could reject her words or brush them off. "But thanks for saving me, too."

Matt tilted his head like he was trying to figure her out, a small smile playing across his lips.

The two of them sat on the fire escape in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of Hell's Kitchen waking up around them. The noise was a welcome distraction from the faint ringing that still lingered in her ears.

"Is your head killing you?" she asked suddenly.

Matt blinked. "From the alarm?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah. It's pretty bad," he admitted, much to her surprise. "Yours?"

"Same," she said with a wry grin. "And I feel like a building fell on the rest of me."

"I find it all usually come as a package."

"But we saved Tyler," she said. In the midst of all the drama, it was easy to forget they'd succeeded in doing what they'd intended to do. "Him and Rob, they'll both be safe now."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

It did. Despite the pain, despite the bone-deep exhaustion, knowing that Rob and his son were safe because of them felt good.

"It really does. Is this what you feel like all the time?" she asked.

Matt exhaled a soft laugh, but there was something bittersweet to the sound. His unfocused gaze was somewhere out in the darkness past the fire escape.

"On my good nights."

They had less than an hour left until they had to get ready to return to the real world: Sarah to Orion and Matt to preparing for his case. It didn't feel like long enough.

Sarah rested her head on Matt's shoulder and closed her eyes, listening to the quiet in and out of his breathing and trying to match her own to his. Her measured breaths combined with the slow circles he was tracing on her skin effectively dissolved some of the tension from her body, and despite knowing the interlude was temporary, they both found some peace in the stillness of the early morning.