One of these days I will manage to be timely with my review replies. Clearly this day is not today. Anyway, once again my apologies for taking so long to update: last month was really stressful and I had very little genuinely free time. And thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment on the last chapter. I appreciate every single one, even if I don't always manage to respond to them all.

And now for a meeting that no one asked for, but I hope you enjoy anyway. Because if I can only be one thing, it might as well be unpredictable. :)

The Eye of the Beholder

He'd been a fighter pilot and then an astronaut, and now he was a super hero: he was used to making split-second decisions. Hell, just being Reed Richard's friend meant making decisions on a dime (often to do with knowing the exact moment running for cover became necessary). This, however, was a decision that was making Ben Grimm's stony palms sweat and his heart pound like some rookie on his first milk run gone south.

He'd heard about the antiques shop from Johnny – and then later Cap during one of their by-weekly poker/movie nights – and it had sounded like the perfect place to go, but from the moment he'd entered he'd felt awkward and out-of-his-element. Sort of like a large rock-man in a china shop. Sure, not everything inside was made of glass, but there were enough little trinkets and delicate teacups to make him self-conscious of every move he made.

The old couple who owned the place had been really helpful, their eyes gleaming with excitement at the challenge he'd brought them. But as he looked between the three options they'd finally whittled the massive selection down to, he felt completely, helplessly unsure. He clenched his fists at his sides, once again wishing his clunky rock-fingers weren't so useless in this.

It was his and Alicia's fifth anniversary next week and he wanted to get her something different, something special... something she could appreciate. She was an amazing woman, one who took him as he came and had accepted him without question from the very first at a time when even he hadn't been accepting of himself. Hell, if he was being honest, she was a big part of why he'd eventually learned to live with himself and the changes in his body that had resulted in 'the Thing'. He loved her for it and wanted to reciprocate.

He just hadn't thought it would be so god-damned hard.

Ben took a deep breath and looked at the three pieces sitting on the glass surface in front of him. The first was a small tapestry: heavy blue, purple and red brocade and velvet fabrics sewn together in diamond-shaped swatches with invisible seams, gleaming golden thread forming the image of a large bird sitting on a branch, its wings spread as though about to take off. Small clear glass beads were delicately stitched into the fabrics. They reflected light like tiny little raindrops.

The second was a wooden relief. Carved from dark, polished wood, the only colour variations coming from the natural patterns of the wood itself, it was about three feet wide and a foot high. It showed a small herd of galloping horses, their necks extended and manes and tails flying. The detail was pretty impressive and even the art plebeian Ben knew himself to be recognized the skill that had to have gone into making each strand of hair feel like it was in motion despite being frozen in time. The horses started from the right as just simple carvings on the wood and then with each horse came out of the wood a little more, the line of horses curving outward until the last pair, who looked like they were racing neck and neck towards the viewer, their front legs suspended in mid-air.

The third piece was a heavy marble teddy bear. It even had a little bow tie and a top hat – a classy teddy bear. Its body was smooth and polished to a gleam, except for the bow tie and hat, which the sculptor had decided to leave a little rougher to the touch. Dabs of gold paint accentuated the nose, eyes and bow tie. It was Ben's favourite, though he wasn't sure if that would've made it more a gift for himself rather than Angela. Part of him just really, really wanted to know just why someone decided to carve a teddy bear out of marble.

He supposed the teddy bear would also double as a handy weapon... which was something he knew better than to say out loud in front of Alicia herself. Ever.

Sighing in frustration, Ben ran a hand down his face and then looked back to the old couple who'd been helping him, hoping for a hint of direction. They stared back at him, their expressions revealing none of their thoughts.

"Sorry," he grunted, looking away. "I don't know why this is so damned hard."

The old man's eyes softened with sympathy. "Because you care," he replied. "And because you want her to be able to experience it in a way you are unable to."

Ben nodded. He knew all that, understood that he and Angela both interacted with and experienced the world differently. They'd each tried to explain to the other what the world 'looked' like to them, but even Angela's well-spoken words couldn't quite manage to convey her experience.

"Isn't it always dark?" he'd asked her.

"I don't really know what dark means," she'd answered with a shrug.

"Then how can you tell if it's day or night?"

Angela had shrugged at that. "It's warmer during the day and sometimes I can feel the sun. Besides, I live in New York and the city has a rhythm. I can always tell what time of day it is based on what the city around me feels like. Well, that plus the little voice on my watch tells me the time when I press a button."

Which, when Ben thought about it, made a lot of sense. Over the next couple of days he'd made a point of stopping when he was out and about in the city and closing his eyes to listen. And, yeah, it did kinda feel and sound different at different times of day. Go figure.

None of which helped him choose her anniversary gift.

Suddenly, the large white cat that had followed them into the room uncurled from her nap on top of an elaborately decorated dumbwaiter. In what looked like a single, fluid motion, she unfurled and stood onto all fours, her back stretching into a steep arch and her tail sticking sharply upwards. Her mouth opened into a wide yawn that made it look like the skin was trying to stretch right off her face. She held it for a few moments before relaxing.

Full-body stretch over, she then leaped down to the floor, brushing against the old man and meowed loudly before trotting out of the room.

The old man looked after the feline thoughtfully. "Hm, you know, I think I might have a possible solution," he said. "Just a moment..."

Ben blinked after him as he hurried out the door, baffled by what solution could possibly be inspired by a cat.

"Don't mind him, young man," the old woman told him. "At times, his mind can be quite the mysterious place."

Ben snorted and then sighed. It had taken them an hour to narrow the shop's ridiculously massive selection of stuff to just three options. Now it was looking like it was going to take him another hour to decide between the three.

Part of him was tempted to just forget the whole surprise thing and go get Alicia and let her choose.

Or he could just get the damned teddy bear. It was both sweet, durable and unique; maybe he could claim it was a metaphor for their relationship or something.

Just then he heard voices coming from the hallway. It was the old man with some occasional words from a younger soft-spoken male voice.

After so many visits in the dead of night via rooftops, it felt incredibly strange to be walking up to the Isle of the Blessed during the day. The lack of snow and ice made it a much more pleasant experience than the last – and only – time Matt had come here as himself instead of Daredevil.

But Daredevil was retired now, though Matt's skin itched with restless during the night while the uniform burned a hole in the false bottom of his closet. He couldn't bring himself to ditch it, he just couldn't. It wasn't that he thought he'd need it again (though, in his more honest moments, he knew he wasn't discounting that possibility), but the suit was a physical representation of the metaphorical devil that had always permeated his life, existing just beneath his purposefully benign exterior. It was a part of him he couldn't quite shake despite trying to for most of his life.

Karen and Foggy likened it to an addiction and treated him like a former junkie. He wasn't sure he agreed with them, but, for once, he couldn't quite find the words to argue.

Knowing that a part of his being yearned to put on the suit and run out into the screaming New York night, wasn't any sort of surprise. Hearing the suffering of others was what had sent him out there in the first place, after all. However, what he hadn't anticipated was just how much he'd miss the impromptu meetings of the philosophy group of indeterminate geometric shape. It wasn't even like they'd had a whole lot of meetings, but just the knowledge that he could hop rooftops to Little Italy and join Merlin and whomever also happened to show up for drinks and rambling conversation that sometimes had a point and sometimes didn't, was a comfort he hadn't known he'd become used to depending on.

Stick would tell him he'd gone soft. Of course, Stick was always telling him he'd gone soft. Foggy claimed Stick was insane.

Matt let the delicious scent of the Italian bakery across the street distract him from his thoughts until a potent floral scent joined it. He gotten whiffs of it before from the rooftop, but here at ground level it was nearly overwhelming. Pausing for a moment to reach out his hand and run it gently over the petals, he realized there was large planter in front of the shop. Well, that solved one minor mystery.

With a small smile, he turned and walked up the steps into the antiques shop.

He heard Aithusa approaching from a distance – it had been a while since he'd encountered her inside, and the sensation was stranger than usual even knowing what he now did. Matt snapped his fingers, listening to the sound echo off objects surrounding him in order to ground himself in his actual surroundings, which he knew had to be smaller than Aithusa's loud steps were indicating they were.

"Ah, young man, it's so good to see you again!" Merlin exclaimed as he hurried in behind her. "And with such perfect timing as well! Come along, there's something we could use your help with."

Matt's eyebrows rose in surprise and allowed himself to be ushered along to the back of the store. He blinked as the storefront turned into a narrow corridor with thick carpeting. Every few feet or so he could hear the faint buzzing of light fixtures along the walls, which told him the corridor was designed with a mysterious, old-fashioned aesthetic in mind. Knowing Merlin, this was hardly surprising.

"So, what exactly do you need my help with?" he asked, curious. He could only assume it was a legal matter, but Merlin somehow didn't seem like someone whose problems should be mundane enough to require a lawyer. The man had a dragon.. or at least was friends with one (Matt wasn't quite sure how that worked, but got the distinct impression that calling Aithusa a 'pet' would result in a char-broiling).

"Art," Merlin replied.

"Art." Matt blinked. "That's... not even close to any of my areas of expertise."

"Well, in this particular case, you are exactly the consultant we require."

And then Merlin dragged him into a room.

The carpet immediately cut off and was replaced with the soft thud of hardwood. Two heartbeats awaited them inside, one carrying a familiar floral scent mixed with motor oil and tea leaves – this was clearly Nimueh whom Matt had curiously never actually met but heard a lot about. The other smelled like an odd mix of masculine-scented soap, coffee and rock. His movements were loud, joints sounding like they were scraping against each other painfully.

"Apologies for the delay, but I believe I come bearing a solution to your crisis, young man," Merlin declared as soon as he entered the room. "Or at the very least someone with a more informed opinion than the three of us can muster."

Matt felt two sets of eyes looking towards him.

"Oh," he heard the woman say. "Yes, I suppose that's not daft at all."

"Thank you," said Merlin primly. "Now I don't believe you two have actually met yet. Matthew, this is my partner, Nimueh. Nimueh, this is Matthew, that young philosopher I've told you about."

"I figured as much. Hello, Matthew, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." Air currents moved as light, slightly shuffled footsteps approached. The footsteps stopped a few feet in front of him and then he heard movement that probably meant – "I'm holding my hand out to you," she said just as it finished.

Matt couldn't help the small smile as he brought his hand up, making a slight show of searching for her hand for the sake of the third person in the room. Despite knowing very little about her, he instinctively knew that being closely associated with Merlin meant Nimueh was somehow similar to Merlin in whatever way it was that made him not quite normal.

Not that Matt really knew much about this fabled thing called 'normal'.

"It's good to finally meet you, Nimueh," he said as she shook her hand.

"And now this young man could use your help," Merlin continued, carefully maneuvering Matt around Nimueh and towards the other man in the room.

The mystery man stepped forward towards Matt and immediately felt the devil come alive beneath his skin: the steps resonated with heavy, solid thuds against the wooden floors.

"Ben Grim," the man introduced himself with a deep, gravelly voice. A heavy arm moved. "I'm, uh, holding my hand out."

On autopilot, Matt reached out to grasp his hand, the other man's hand clearly moving to help them meet. Matt froze. The hand didn't feel human in the slightest. In fact, had Matt not been able to hear his heartbeat and the breaths going in and out of his lungs, he would've thought he was shaking hands with a statue.

"Uh, I guess you don't recognize the name then," Ben Grim said, sounding slightly uneasy.

"No, sorry," Matt replied, trying to keep his voice even. "Should I?"

Ben looked down at the smaller man, feeling awkward once again. Not only was Ben twice his size, but there was a gentleness in Matthew's demeanor that made Ben incredibly conscious about being able to break him in half with a single blow. Forget the dark sunglasses and white cane that highlighted his blindness, between floppy brown curls and a boyish face, this man look a bit like a lost puppy.

Alicia had never seemed to be overly surprised by his looks but he supposed feeling his hand without the visual to accompany it would be quite jarring. But, damn, he didn't recognize the name 'Ben Grim'?

"Uh, maybe you'd know me as The Thing?" he tried.

He could see the man's eyes rise above his sunglasses. "The Thing?" he asked incredulously. Then he frowned. "Wait, I think I might have... You're part of that other superhero team, uh, out of the Baxter Building, I think?"

Ben relaxed slightly. "Yeah, we're the Fantastic Four. We all got caught up in one of Reed Richard's experiments a few years ago and, well, this is the result for me. The others all got different superpowers, but I'm now a living rock man."

Matt nodded thoughtfully. "Could be worse," he said. "At least you'll never having to worry about getting mugged in New York ever again."

Ben chuckled. "There's that, yeah." He paused. "Problem, though, is that rock isn't particularly sensitive, at least not to detail... See, my girlfriend is blind and, well, our anniversary is commin' up and I wanted to get her some art that she'd enjoy. Alicia's an artist, you see, a sculptor and she's amazing at it, but I don't know the first thing about regular, uh, visual art, let alone art for the blind. I'd take her on one of those blind art tours at the MET, but we already did that for her birthday last year."

He paused and took a deep breath. "Merlin and Nimueh here have been real helpful, so I've narrowed it down to three choices, but I'd really appreciate it if you could take a look – er, I mean, like feel them out or something – to see if you think one's better than the others."

Whatever tension had remained in Matt's frame, had melted away during his explanation and been replaced with amusement.

"First of all, while I might not know your girlfriend, I can guarantee you that just the fact that you're going to all the trouble of trying to find artwork that she can experience rather than just be told about by others, will count for a lot," he said quietly. "Secondly, you should also realize that just because we're both blind, doesn't mean our taste in art is the same."

Ben grimaced. "Yeah, I get that," he said. "But I don't want to choose something just 'cause I like it when I don't really see the world the same way."

Matt nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Okay, I'll take a look at them."

"Lookin' at them would sorta defeat the purpose," Ben muttered just loudly enough to be heard. Then he froze, suddenly wondering if that came across as offensive.

The smaller man's lips, however, spread in a delighted grin. "Good thing that isn't my area of expertise then, isn't it?" he quipped back.

Ben relaxed.

He then watched with bated breath as Matt looked over the three pieces he'd chosen. The tapestry was quickly rejected: apparently the bold stitching didn't quite stand out enough against the brocade and it was too busy with the beads even if the variety of fabrics made it interesting to touch. The teddy bear got a set of raised eyebrows.

"The smooth marble is soothing and it's definitely something that can be touched without worrying about damage," he said. Then he shrugged. "It's not my sort of thing, that's for sure, but I guess I can understand the appeal. I'm pretty sure there's a metaphor to be mined somewhere in there too."

"That's what I thought," Ben said with a chuckle.

It was the horses, however, that seemed to fascinate Matthew. He spent long minutes tracing his fingers along their forms, seemingly taking in every detail carved into the wood, from the straining of their muscles to the strands of their hair and minutia of their expressions.

"That one's amazing," he said after he'd stepped back. "You can really feel the movement, the power in their forms..."

"Thanks, that helped a lot." He gave the teddy bear one, last look of regret before turning to the old couple. "I'll take the horse carving."

Nimueh nodded, looking pleased. "An excellent choice, young man."

"And, you never know, perhaps the teddy bear will still be here should you decide to add some artwork to your own home," Merlin added with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Ben paused to consider that. "It's not flammable, and can take some degree of damage... 'S not actually a bad idea really. I'll think about it. Maybe in a few weeks if it's still here."

"You know, you didn't actually have to go with my suggestion if you liked the bear," Matthew pointed out after the two shop owners had bustled off to polish and wrap the carving.

Ben waved him off. "I think that was a choice for me more than her," he said. "She's not really a cute animal person, you know?"

"Ah."

"So, anyway, thanks again for helpin' me out."

"It was my pleasure," Matthew answered. "This was infinitely more pleasant than the sorts of things people usually ask my help with."

"Oh?"

Matthew shrugged. "I'm a lawyer."

That was a bit surprising, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. Ben frowned. Matthew Murdock... the name hadn't meant anything to him at first, but now that he knew the guy was a lawyer, something was niggling at his brain.

Merlin bustled back into the room just then. "I do apologize for leaving you both in here," he said. "Please, come with me. We've got your package up at the front, young man. And, Matthew, Nimueh is making tea. I assume you'll have some?"

Matthew's lips twitched. "Sure, I'd love some."

"Good, good, I don't think you had the opportunity to stop by since you were here with your partner, uh..."

"Foggy, Foggy Nelson."

A metaphorical lightbulb chose that moment to go off in Ben's brain. "Nelson and Murdock!" he exclaimed and then turned to point at Matthew. "You're one of the guys who helped take down Wilson Fisk!"

Matthew blinked up at him. "Uh, yeah, I am," he said.

"Then I owe ya more thanks than just for helping me picking out an anniversary gift," he said, ignoring Matthew when he tried to protest. "No, I got family in Hell's Kitchen and I knew it was gettin' kinda tense there, but I had no idea how bad 'till he got arrested and then Daredevil took him down. Don't really think my aunt realized how bad it really was until then either, mind you, but that's still no excuse. I'm supposed to be a god-damned superhero and I didn't notice a villain in my own backyard!"

Matthew just smiled. "Hell's Kitchen is my city. I might not be able to do much, but I'll do whatever I can to keep it safe to live in."

Ben barely took any time to think it over, as soon as they came to the front, he grabbed a notepad that was sitting on top of the counter and the pen next to it. With careful, practiced movements, he poked holes into the paper, just enough to make the braille legible.

"Here," he said, tearing the paper and handing it over to the other man. "My cellphone number. Guys like Fisk, they never give up and they've always got connections, resources and flunkies to bribe their way to just about anything. If you or your partner ever need help, you call me, got it? I might not have a ton of connections, but I've got a few friends to call on and the police mostly like us. Plus, the Baxter Building is an, uh, safe place you can hide out in if you need to. Unless, Reed's doing one of his more questionable experiments, that is."

The lawyer took the phone number seemingly by reflex, looking stunned by the offer. "Uh, thanks. I don't think I'll need–"

"–Never say never, kid."

He didn't give Matthew Murdock any more chances to protest, instead turning back to the old man to pay for his purchase and then quickly leaving. He still had flowers to get, after all.

Matt wasn't quite sure what to feel as he felt the strongest member of the Fantastic Four hurry out of the shop, muttering something about flowers under his breath. That hadn't gone in any expected direction.

Nimueh's soft, careful footsteps broke him out of his musings. She was accompanied by the clink of china and silverware and the smell of tea with a hint of alcohol. Matt felt his lips twitch: had she spiked the tea?

Merlin came around the counter and gently took Matt by the elbow. "Allow me to guide you to the back," he said softly. "I'm afraid it's a bit of an obstacle course on its best day."

"I think I remember some of that," Matt said with a smile, allowing the guiding with grace. "Is there anything you don't sell in here?"

There was a thoughtful pause.

"Dinosaur bones. I'm reasonably certain there are no dinosaur bones in the shop."

Matt laughed. "Well, if you're reasonably certain."

"Hm."

He could hear Aithusa's steady, echoing heartbeat coming from the table. Matt greeted her and received a soft rumble in response and a swish of movement as her tail trailed along the table.

Merlin ushered him into a seat just as Nimueh placed a mug in front of him.

"Thank you," said Matt as he inhaled the herbal scent of the tea – sure enough, spiked with the sharp tang of alcohol, though not any sort Matt recognized. "It smells lovely... and potent."

Nimueh chuckled. "There's not nearly enough of anything for you to be worried about," she said. "Especially as, from what I hear, you can handle quite a bit."

Matt felt the corners of his lips twitch. "I suppose I can't exactly deny that."

It also answered the question as to just how much Nimueh knew. Somehow, Matt couldn't find it in him to be worried that she knew who he was... or at least who he used to be.

Was, a small voice inside him insisted – the suit was a mask, not the source of his abilities, after all.

Matt took a large sip of tea in an attempt to drown it out. His eyes closed without conscious thought, as though the gesture actually did something to block out the world around him, while the tea exploded across his taste buds. It hadn't been brewed using a bag, he could immediately tell; it lacked the processed, metallic taste of the machines that'd been used. Instead, the fruity herbal mix danced across his senses like a summer garden in liquid form. And the alcohol was sweet, but not sugary – it wasn't like anything he'd had before, couldn't identify it from his vast internal database of liqueurs and spirits.

"This is amazing," he stated softly once he'd recovered from his momentary overload.

"Why thank you, young man," said Nimueh, smile obvious in her voice. "We gather our own ingredients and mix the blends."

"I can tell," he replied with a smile.

Even as he took his next sip of tea, he knew he'd be back. Whether it was the tea, the general atmosphere of the shop, or the company itself, as he sat at the large round wooden table, Matt realized that the terrible itch that had settled itself just beneath his skin, the one that had been plaguing him for months, demanding that he don the suit and take to the streets, was suddenly, inexplicably silent.

For the first time in what felt like years, he felt like he could breathe and just... exist.

Author's Notes: So, while I did do some research into art for the blind, as someone who's very much a visual learner, I have absolutely no idea how any form of art would translate to someone who can't see. Honestly, it's one of the reasons I love writing Daredevil: it's such a fascinating challenge, trying to understand how he perceives the world and interacts with it. However, as a result, I am entirely guessing as to his takes on the artworks.