Matt
He wasn't blind anymore.
He was sitting on a white bench in the graveyard behind the church. It was mass, usually his dad would be here too, but for some reason, he wasn't.
He was beneath a weeping willow tree. He looked up at the gigantic canopy; the white sunlight seeping through hurt his eyes, a sensation he had long since forgotten. The tree's long languid leaves dangled down all the way to the grass, and swished to-and-fro in the fresh spring air.
Everything was in vivid color, the rolling hills of emerald green, and the bluest sky. Yet the world flickered between this picture perfect image and a world on fire, where everything was engulfed in rampant flames. Color. Fire. Color. Fire. His stomach went queasy with panic.
"Matt?"
He turned to his left and saw Riley. She looked like everything he knew her to be, but also not quite the same, as if he'd painted in the blanks spaces on a canvas from someone else's description of her. Her hair was light brown and her eyes were a deep sea green. She stretched out her hand for him and he took it.
"I'm so happy you're here. Something's not right, Riley."
"I don't think it will be, not for a long time," she said, her eyes swimming with tears like two ocean whirlpools. "We lost. Fisk already won."
"No, no," he went on with vehement denial, "you promised we would fight this together."
"I'm sorry." She rested her hands on his shoulders; "you have to wake up..."
A flash of fire scalded his skin and Matt woke with a shock. He was blind again.
There was a tinge-like sensation to his skin and something wet on his cheek. Hot water.
"Morning sunshine." The Punisher greeted from a few feet away, he had a thermos cup in his hand. He smelt the remnants of tea from it, and tasted the droplets he'd splashed on him. So a murderous assassin drinks tea.
He tried to move, but he couldn't. Lengths of chains wound around him, tying him to a brick chimney. Matt pushed and pulled, struggling against the metal, but it only tightened even more around him like a python.
"Boy, I must have cracked your forehead harder than I thought," he chided. "The only way you walk free is if I let you."
Matt stopped. Clever bastard. He heard the chain links screech against one another but he wasn't going to get out of this one any time soon. He huffed out, giving up momentarily. "Why didn't you take my mask off?"
"I don't give a damn who are you."
They were on rooftop somewhere, still in Hell's Kitchen. Matt could smell the weapons and bullet rounds in crates lined up beneath a canvas nearby. What the hell is he up to?The last thing Matt remembered was falling on the street onto his back, just as the Punisher fired a shot from his sniper position. A fire escape had lessened the velocity of his fall but didn't stop him from passing out. And then he remembered what the Punisher was hunting and a chill ran down his spine.
Riley.
"You killed everyone else, why am I still alive?"
"Because I don't want you dead," he replied, arranging the crates side by side meticulously.
"You're a soldier aren't you?" Matt recalled that from Riley's report on him. "What are you gonna do with all this?" He pointed his chin at the gear he was stock piling up on.
"I'll do what's required," he replied vaguely, stoically looking out over the city. The Punisher carried himself with confidence and ease surrounded by the weapons he had and a rigid sense of purpose.
"Is this another one of your missions?" Matt pressed on. "I'm guessing you've done this 10 or 20 times?" No answer. "How long has it been?" No answer.
"6 months? A year? Or your whole life?" No answer. Matt might as well be talking to a wall.
"Something tells me you don't take breaks," Matt observed, he rolled his wrists around to see if he could loosen the chains further but it still wasn't budging. "No one else has to die you can stop now and walk away."
The Punisher rounded on him, the footfalls of his heavy boots stopping. "Walk away? Jesus, you sound like that cop."
"What did you do to her?" Matt demanded keeping his anger under wraps. "Where is she?"
"She's safe," he shrugged nonchalantly, and the son of a bitch was telling the truth. He was learning that tonight the Punisher was going to be the one asking the questions. "Tell me Red, could you do that? Could you walk away?"
"Where did they send you?" Matt asked instead, if he was going to be there a while, he should put his interrogation skills to work. Although he usually had the upper hand during these.
"Have you ever been to war?" The Punisher countered.
"No." Because I would fail the medical exams.
"Then don't talk about it," he shot back at him.
"Well, I almost had you beat."
"You don't know anything about it," he glowered at him as he checked the gear hooked into a utility belt. "I'm not talking about trading hands on a rooftop, I'm talking about real shit."
"I agree; I don't know anything about it. But I do know war changes people."
"Are you a shrink, Red?" He scoffed, glancing at Matt. "Is that your day job?"
"No, it's not."
"Then what are you?"
"Someone-" Matt couldn't believe he was explain himself to the Punisher of all people, "-someone who was tired of the suffering in this city."
"You wanted to 'save the city' I take it? That's funny, you run around in your little boys pajamas, trying to make a difference and then you go home, take that mask off and pretend it wasn't you doing those things. But soldiers— we don't get that privilege."
"You're not the first person to tell me that," said Matt, thinking about Riley. He leaned his head on the chimney, shaking it; "But why am I here?"
"Because you need to know that everything you do on the streets doesn't work," he replied, taking out a first aid kit.
"And your way is better?" Matt rolled his eyes. The Punisher sat down against the low brick wall, rolling up his sleeve to check on an old injury he had on his upper arm.
Matt studied him closely to discern if he had anything on him he could swipe off and use to escape, but he only had a handgun on his belt and another on his ankle strap.
"Tell me; who did you lose? That's got to be why you're doing this."
"You're the worst shrink in this city," he opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide with his mouth and doused the old wound with it, not even recoiling at the sting.
"Everyone has lost someone," disputed Matt. "It doesn't give you the right to shoot up neighbourhoods."
"Loss doesn't work the same for everybody, Red," The Punisher dabbed at the excess chemicals with a cotton pad. "We don't get to pick the things that fix us. My moment of clarity came from a different place than yours."
"Yeah, I don't kill anyone," he stated the obvious.
"Is that way you think you're better than me?"
"Hold on, I never said that," Matt argued heatedly. "I just know that people don't have to die."
"Did somebody ask you to put on that costume or you put it on yourself?" He stuck on a new plaster over the wound. He stood and stalked over to him, squatting down in front of him, stabbing a finger at Matt; "I think you're a half measure and a coward. And you don't want to admit this yet; but you know you're one bad day away from being me."
Matt mind raced to the sound of footsteps ascending the staircase; "someone's coming." It was a civilian, unarmed; this is bad, really bad.
"He's older. Don't hurt him."
"He better not give me a reason to," he put on his jacket, took the gun from his belt and waved it at Matt. "Don't make a sound or I shoot him."
As soon as the tenant was at the roof door, Matt tried for the chains again, twisting against them. He heard bits and pieces of the conversation the Punisher had with the old man, he made civilised small talk to get him to leave, and also slipped his name; Frank. The chains were a bit too loud and Matt stiffened in place as 'Frank' cocked the gun, hiding it behind the door from the old tenant.
Once he got rid of him, Frank returned.
"Frank. Is that your real name?"
"I told you not to make a sound," he hissed.
"Is shooting a harmless old man something you enjoy doing as well?" He reproached.
"I didn't shoot him. It was to warn you," he pointed the gun at Matt. "Are you listening to me?" He came over to him and rested the tip of the gun on his forehead. He leaned as far as he could into the chimney, glaring daggers and shook it off him. Frank put the gun back on his holster;
"I'm not a bad guy, Red."
"That's not what the people think," said Matt, he was killing batches and batches of mafia and gangs, with no tact, just meaningless violence. "Especially the families of the people you killed."
"I know exactly who I'm killing. And the people I shot deserved it, and their families are better off without them."
"So what about the hospital?" Matt hissed. "Did those people deserve to be terrorized by you too?"
Frank held his empty palms up to him; "hey, I got my guy. I definitely think he deserved it. Don't you?"
Matt glared at him; "he didn't escape that place alone."
"Nah, he didn't."
"So where is she?" He reiterated, clenching his jaw, unable to keep the anger from spilling into his tone.
Again, Frank shrugged indifferently; "she was in my way."
Matt could tell there were thin scratches on Frank's cheeks and bite marks on his right hand. "I swear to God if you hurt her—!"
"Like I said, Red," Frank cut over him. "Only the assholes that deserve it; have to deal with me. You're the one who needs to take off their rose tinted glasses."
"What do you mean?" He asked grinding his teeth. He was tired of this.
"Because I saw it happen," explained Frank, kneeling down in front of him. "That cop you're so worried about, Knight? She thought Roscoe Sweeney deserved it too. You couldn't even be a man and finish your fight with me because you had to prance off and stop her," he mocked. "Could've saved this city months ago, made my job end faster too. That's pathetic you know? You denied her that, her peace, her justice."
"She knew killing him wasn't going to make things right," Matt contended. He didn't believe he was denying her, her justice but rather saving her from a violent decision she would regret. "That's something you need to learn too Frank."
He laughed humourlessly, waving him off; "yeah, yeah, I'll pass, doc."
"So you're just going to keep at it? Shoot people like it's your goddamn shooting gallery?"
"And what do you do, Red?" He opened his arms, questioning him. "You run around and rough up the bullies with your fists. Throw them in jail; get a headline on a newspaper, and everyone calls you a hero. But the cycle never breaks; no one reads about those criminals getting out, a month, a week, a day later. The law failed this city and let those assholes free again. But not on my watch," he pointed adamantly at his chest. "This city is full of filth, Red."
He really believes he is what this city needs. "You don't believe in redemption? In hope? That there's a scrap of goodness in them? It's possible, Frank. I know it is." He and Foggy had shaved off years on the sentences of crooks, but they were trying to make a change in jail, it was possible. A singular person was an entire world, with a past, a history, a present, and a future. There was always one redeeming quality, and to Matt it was worth it, no matter how idealistic it seemed to other people.
Frank sat down in front of him. "Sorry preacher; I think you're wrong. I think you need to start waking up and living in the real world," he used two fingers to knock on Matt's mask. "When I take down criminals, they stay down."
"The real world isn't that black and white, and neither are people," Matt contested. "They deserve a chance to try again. If you can't see that than you really must be insane."
Frank's gaze darkened. "What did you say?"
"You think God made you a one-man firing squad."
He stood up, looming over him; "What the hell are you, then?" He asked, with a barely concealed growl.
Matt kept his breathing steady, he'd hit a nerve here; "there's seriously something wrong with you."
He raised his brows, challenging him; "yeah, keep talking."
Matt didn't care if he was pissing him off, he had to say it; "you're going to have to kill me," he told him calmly. "Because I will never stop coming after you and stopping you. Until I take you down."
"Alright," Frank replied and picked a spanner off the ground. "I think I'm done listening to your bullshit." The tool came down in a rush of air and whacked Matt across the skull.
He didn't dream this time. But when he woke up his head was spinning, just as bad as some of the hangover's he'd had. He was still where he was earlier unfortunately. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out for. But there was definitely something different this time.
There was a gun duct taped around his hand, finger on the trigger. Matt stared at the bizarre object and then realized the Punisher had done this like some sick prank. What the hell is going on? He was honestly lost at the game Frank was playing at. He was unpredictable, and nothing that Matt had ever faced before. He was learning and figuring things out as it went along, it infuriated him to not have control over this.
However, another problem presented itself;
Riley was unconscious not far from where he was, tied up at the ankle and wrists with rope. Her blazer and pants muddied from the rain earlier. Besides a bruise forming on her scalp, she was fine, but as happy as he was to know she was in one piece and relatively unharmed, this was the last place she should be.
Frank was sitting idly on the crates, whistling, loading a handgun with bullets. He noted Matt's sudden apprehension.
"What is she doing here?" Matt demanded, infuriated. "Why did you tie her up?"
"I don't kill cops, unlike some people we know. They'll find her here after we're done."
He was fed up with the unanswered questions; "let her go!"
"She's just as bad as you," said Frank with a disapproving shake of his head. "Wouldn't hand him over so easily, not even for you. I bet that's got to hurt."
I wouldn't have expected anything less. "Let her go!" Matt strained harder than he ever had before against the chains. "Do what you want with me. Let her go."
He was willing to beg for her release, but Frank was in his own world, he spun on his heel and went to the rooftop door; "time to put a face to all your fancy talk about redemption."
Being so distracted with Riley's safety he didn't pay attention to the other newest heartbeat on the premises.
He lugged Xavier out from the stairwell, slamming the roof door behind them. His pride and arrogance had obviously been beat out of him. The hit man was shivering in the thin, wet, hospital gown he still wore and he was restrained at the wrists.
"I don't want to die!" He begged. Frank regarded him like he was an ant and slapped him. He was bleeding from his stitches.
"Please!" The groveling just incensed Frank even more, he shoved him to his knees.
"Shut up!" Frank unholstered his gun and aimed it inches from Xavier's head, he whimpered and stayed quiet.
Matt kicked at the ground; "Stop it Frank! This is insane! This is not up to me, or you!"
"Tell him what you did!" Frank snarled. "What you've done! He's murdered children, Red. Kids! He shot them in the back of the head, and he didn't regret a damn thing. What else? Tell him!"
Matt stopped and gave them a hard look; "I know what's he's done," he replied, his voice low and simmering with scorn. He hated Xavier just as much as any cop or decent person would, but this wasn't how this was supposed to end.
"Still think he's worth protecting?" Asked Frank, looking at him.
"It's not for you to decide!"
Riley finally roused, her eyelids blinking in confusion and then alarm at the scene happening before her, but she had duct tape on her mouth. Matt whipped his head to her.
"Knight—!"
"Eyes here, Red!" Frank barked, and he clocked the gun.
"I'll give you information. I got plenty! Just-just give me a chance," Xavier tried to bargain. He still has the audacity to do that.
Frank kicked him to the ground and smashed his ribs in with his foot, making him howl in pain, "that's not what you're here for!"
Matt yelled at him; "Frank, I'm not going to shoot you, Frank!"
But he was unhinged; he wasn't going to listen to any reason. Frank yanked Xavier's hair and turned his head in Riley's direction. "Tell them what else you did. Look her in the eye and tell her what you did! Confess!"
At first Xavier was unable to, afraid for his life after he'd snuffed out so many, but with the Punisher watching him he met Riley's eyes head on and she was listening intently, glaring at him. At the same time Matt could hear her feeling for any weaknesses in the binds behind her back.
He gulped; "I-I killed a cop..."
Frank pulled on his hair harder; "what was his name?"
"Michaels. D-Darren Michaels."
"And you shot two others didn't you?" Frank shouted into his ear. "Didn't you?!"
Xavier cowered; "yes-yes. But I-I didn't have a choice, I owed them my freedom. I couldn't back out of it. I—"
Even Matt didn't believe he didn't have a 'choice.' Frank was livid; he threw him back onto the ground and punched him mercilessly, bloody spit flying out of his mouth.
"You don't think we don't hear all the fucking lies, you're spewing asshole?" Punch. "Is he still worth it, Red? Huh?" Punch. "Do you regret it?" Punch. "Would you do it again?" Punch.
He coughed out blood, groaning, "just do it—just shoot," he breathed raggedly, giving up, and then erupted into a coughing fit. "Nothing I say will change your mind—"
Frank wrapped his hand around his throat, choking him, "I'm not going to be the judge of that," he cocked his head to Matt, "he is." He returned his attention to Matt in full force; "you heard him. You still think this piece of shit is worth saving? He's asking you to do it, Red. Do it!"
Matt shook his head unyieldingly, "I'm not going to shoot him!" He shouted through gritted teeth, wishing he could fling the gun away, but it was an extension of him now.
For a moment Frank looked disappointed, then he gave a firm nod and got to his feet; "yeah okay." He hauled his prisoner back to his knees. "Then I will. If you don't kill me first." He aimed at Xavier. "I'm losing patience, Red."
"He will get what he deserves, Frank. But not like this!"
Frank shook his head, "Nah that's a bad idea. You see, he'll kill again. We let him go. He'll kill another kid, or another cop." He pointed at Riley, "he'll kill her next for arresting him. Can't live with that now, can you, Red?"
Xavier, tried to get a word in; "I swear I won't kill anyone, I'll tell you what I told—"
"Shut up! Shut up!" Frank smacked him with the gun but not enough to make him pass out, he glowered at Matt. "Take the shot!" He ordered.
"Go to hell!"
"Too late."
"I don't understand! Why are you doing this?"
"You need to understand that pieces of shit like him ruin peoples lives."
Matt was at a loss of how to deal with him, Riley had found a lose screw on the pipe she was tied too and she was cutting at her ropes, he wanted to tell her to go faster, but the only way he could help her now, help both of them, was to keep the Punisher's attention on him;
"I know what he's done. I know! But he's suffered. You shot him before, he's already bleeding, and it's enough! You've made your point!"
"It's not enough!" Frank snarled back. "You value this man's life, as much as you do this cop's don't you?" He nudged his head in Riley's direction. "Do you understand how messed up that is?!"
"It's different, you know it is!"
Frank did an insane thing, instead of Xavier—he pulled the gun on Riley.
Matt shouted at the top of his lungs; "No, stop! Don't you dare! She is not part of this!"
Riley let out a muffled cry of fear, shaking her head.
"She's killed too, Red. You know she has," said Frank, still aiming. "But you know it in your heart who deserves this bullet more. It's common sense." It was another warning, another lesson, he swung the gun back to Xavier, yet Matt's relief was short lived; "you need to understand that his life is not worth this."
"Killing him isn't going to bring anybody back!"
"Nah, but it'll keep him from killing again." Frank had made up his mind; "I'm going to count down, and you have to make your call. Five—"
"I'm going to hand him over to the police myself!" Matt was grasping at the ends of straws here, the gun was taped in his hand he didn't know what else to do, but talking was doing jack shit. "He'll pay for what he's done!" He gave a brief listen to Riley and her rapidly eyes flitted between him and the pair.
"Four! Three!"
"No!" Matt refused.
"Take the shot, Red!" He ordered, in a voice that commanded no hope of wavering. "If you don't do it I'll kill him myself, either way you're a killer!"
"What kind of choice is that?!"
"The kind I make every time I pull the trigger. The kind I'm going to make right now."
Matt screamed and shot his chains, breaking them. Frank was briefly stunned. As the chains fell off, he charged for him. In the milliseconds before he crashed into him, he thought, this is it, he's going to shoot me again.
Frank took his shot.
Riley
She watched as Xavier flopped to the ground, his neck was a gaping mess of blood, the Punisher's bullet lodged in it.
Riley cut through her ropes with the screw and broke free just as Matt attacked Frank. She undid her ankle restraints and ripped the duct tape off, her lips stinging from the adhesive.
Matt and Frank crashed down onto a fire escape; meanwhile she rushed to Xavier's side and delicately held onto him as though they had been lifelong friends. Her hands were shaking, she didn't know what to do, blood was foaming from his mouth. Just the other night I wanted him to die, but now she wasn't sure what she wanted. She had to make a decision now, or fate was going to do it for her.
She gripped the wound on Xavier's neck; the dark red blood seeped through her fingers.
His fearful eyes were staring at the sky. They weren't snake-like anymore, just plain terror that she recognized well. She wondered if he was actually regretting his life, his choices, the path he'd chosen to lead as a hit man, or if it was nothing but endless pain he was suffering through. It didn't take ten seconds for her to know that Xavier wasn't going to survive, no matter how tightly she stemmed the bleeding.
His terrified stare locked with hers as he realized it too.
"Se—se..." he tried to tell her something, she moved her ear close to his mouth, but his words were barely a whisper; "traitor... c-closer... than—"
She leaned her head away, unable to comprehend what he was trying to tell her in his last words; "What do you mean? Who's the traitor? Do you know?" She asked, gripping onto his hospital gown.
But his eyelids fluttered and he took one long breath with all his effort and life in it; he stopped struggling and died.
Riley was unable to move a muscle. His body was still warm, blood still hot. For a moment it was almost as though he would wake up again, to taunt her once more. But there was no glean to his eyes.
Things became apparent bit my bit, the wind on her back, making her cold because of her damp clothes, the ripe smell of blood, and distant angry cries from the street below. She shook her head denying all of it. We were so close, so close...
She leaned off her knees to sit, and only registered Matt after he'd been calling her name.
"—Riley!"
She looked up at him, something haunting about her face gave him pause.
"Riley, I have to go downstairs, there's some trouble he stirred and I need to deal with it," he said while catching his breathe from the fighting and shouting.
"You have to go," said Riley, her voice scratchy. He gave a small nod; spun from her and ran off into the night.
Riley
Matt lost him. After dealing with a horde of enraged Irishmen that the Punisher set off, he came too and escaped from the elevator Matt kept him in.
The handover process after the emergency services arrived was wearisome. Luckily, no one innocent had been injured that night, except the Punisher's target. He completed his mission. It was midnight by the time everything settled down.
She didn't think she would see Matt again that night, but Riley found him waiting for her inside the sick bay. He wasn't in his Daredevil outfit, just his normal dress shirt and trousers, minus the jacket and tie. The shirt was crinkled and untucked. It's like he was never Daredevil to begin with. His shirt was a mess of bloodstains, from carrying Xavier around. When he was alive.
She found it difficult to say anything to him after the night they had been through, how do you make small talk after being kidnapped by a murderous psychopath?
"Quick costume change, huh?" She remarked, walking in.
"Had to keep up with appearances since I was there. Detective Leo just finished questioning me."
She gave a long and tired sigh; "do you ever just, really need a vacation?" She asked him sitting on the waiting chair nearest the sink as he washed his wands.
"Uh, I'm kind of a workaholic so, no."
She rolled her eyes, "typical." She gave a sidelong glance and he was smiling to himself.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his favourite question, but she realised she wasn't tired of hearing it like she thought she would be after months of it. "Does it hurt?" He gestured to the lump on her head.
"I've had worse, I have a few rashes from the ropes, but I'll manage," she glanced down at the red marks on her wrists.
"You gave him a good fight." He sat down next to her.
She snorted, "but I still lost."
He clicked his tongue and sighed. "Yeah, we both did."
"I just wish today didn't happen."
"Me too."
"You should also probably get rid of that shirt," she said, uneasy at the knowledge of Xavier's blood on him after she'd failed to keep the prisoner alive. Riley went to Alfie's locker. He was roughly his size. She returned a minute later with a fresh shirt and handed it to him.
"Thanks." He undid the first two buttons and pulled his shirt off, Riley tried to maintain her eyes on his face but her eyes did wander once or twice. She tossed the old shirt in the trashcan. Riley had showered the grime and dirt of her and changed too. She sat down beside him again as he buttoned up the new shirt, covering up the many scars scattered over his abdomen.
"This is much better," said Matt, visibly more comfortable. Their gazes met, and without saying anything, they fell into each other's arms, hugging. He smelt like his laundry detergent, dust and sweat.
He rested his cheek on the side of her head. "Riley. I'm sorry; I should've stopped him earlier before he attacked you. Even after everything he put us through I still lost him."
She pulled away from him. "We shouldn't have split up. That was my decision."
"It was the right one at the time," he said. "We both agreed to it." They both underestimated the Punisher's prowess and persistence to finish the job. There was no other way to stop Matt from interfering with his missions than to literally chain him up (besides killing him).
"He just came out of nowhere, and I couldn't hold him off by myself."
His jaw tightened; "he was going to kill you."
"He wasn't."
"You believe that?" He asked, doubtfully.
"I do, as impossible as it sounds. He wanted to teach you a lesson. He told me."
"Yeah enlighten me with his perspectives on justice," he berated, and contemplated things silently for a moment; "even if I disagreed with everything he said, I do get it, why he's doing what he does, is that wrong?"
"It's not."
"He said; I was one bad day away from being him," he replied, disturbed by it.
"You're not like that, Matt, God knows that too," she told him. "You're just being you, compassionate, even for the darkest soul, that's—that's what I admire about you."
He turned to her with a fond smile, "thanks."
"Frank Castle, is his real name," she said, clearing her throat, getting back to the business of it before they got carried away. "The DA has her own file on him, using her own investigators now. His family was killed in terrible shootout in Central Park, his children and wife were shot right in front of him. He was caught in the middle of a gang war. He's just trying to get revenge on them." In many ways Riley understood his grief, but abhorred the way he was handling it now.
"That's awful," he said, "explains why he's going after specific groups."
"What do I do now?" She asked, searching his countenance for an answer. "I just don't know."
"We'll find him again," he assured her.
"I guess so." She stared at her hands and they flashed back to the dark red blood on them.
"What is it?" Matt asked, noting her discomfort.
"At first," her words caught in her throat, wondering if she should even say anything at all. "At first I felt like Xavier deserved it, but as he—as he was dying and I was trying so hard to keep him alive." Could she have saved him? Was she holding onto his wound tight enough? Or maybe I didn't hold on tight enough on purpose, I despised him so much.
"And I just watched the light leave his eyes, and it was terrifying. But I still don't think I could forgive him."
"You don't have to forgive him, and despite who he was, you did everything you could to protect him and keep him from harm's way, at the risk of your own safety," said Matt, staunchly believing in her, and his belief in her made her want to believe in herself too. "What matters right now is that we're safe," he said closing his hand over hers that was resting on her knee. "You're safe."
Riley needed a breather from the topic of the Punisher. Her thoughts flew to something else that was unsettling her; "what he said; do you think he was lying? About Alfie? The fact that he knew of his condition; I can't help but think that they're watching him, and they're going to kill him when he's vulnerable." She couldn't bear to lose someone else she loved after she'd just come to terms with Amy's death.
Matt let go of her hand; "no, he wasn't lying."
She shook her head and leaned far back into the plastic chair. I knew it, when he couldn't get up on his own.
"I wasn't sure how to tell you what I heard," he admitted, with a pained expression. "But you have to remember this is temporary, only his doctors truly know the progress of his recovery. Xavier was a liar trying to get a rise out of you."
"I guess you're right. I wish I could tell Amy I was taking care of her brother. I tried to call her old number the other day but it was out of service. It just feels really lonely doing this job with no one to confide in. Does that make sense?"
At first it was because she had not been speaking to Alfie because of her secret partnership with Matt, and then it was because he found out about that secret. Then he had to get injured for them to reconcile and forgive her. It was time wasted, wasn't it?
"Yeah it does make sense," said Matt. "There are times when I think Foggy would rather be somewhere else, somewhere much swankier than our office. He's better at this than I am. But don't tell him that." He wagged his finger at her; she laughed.
"As for Karen..." he gave a lamenting look, "every time I lie to her, I think; this will be the time she finally gets up and leaves us. Then I'd be running the firm alone, and it wouldn't be as fun."
Whether he ever told Karen the truth about Daredevil was his business, but she understood where he was coming from.
"But he'll make it, Riley. I know he will," Matt reassured her. "If he can interrogate me bleeding on the street. Then he will."
She noticed his busted lip from when he visited Fisk was bleeding again. Riley hooked her sleeve over her thumb and dabbed at his bottom lip, staining it with a smudge of red.
"You're going to ruin your shirt." He said with a smile around his words, as she dabbed, his shoulders relaxing.
"Then I guess you owe me a new one," she said, staring at his lips. Riley brought her eyes to level with his, and saw a similar intensity in theirs as she had in hers.
A knock on the door and Sergeant Fitzgerald swung it wide open, "Knight—whoa."
Riley and Matt jumped out of their chairs and put a good five feet between them like a pair of teenager caught making out beneath the school bleachers.
"Sergeant," she addressed him, standing straight as a rod. "Sorry, I was just uh— getting a statement from Mr. Murdock."
"Sure. That's what it looked like," he said, totally unconvinced at her lie that was flimsier than tissue paper. She forgot that Leo already took Matt's statement. "We're having an emergency meeting in the conference room, and you're already late," he instructed strictly. He then gave Matt a stone-cold stare that would've made her run for the hills; "You can leave."
When they were left alone, she turned to him and sighed; "I should go, duty calls."
"Yeah," he replied with a sheepish grin and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Riley couldn't help it; she put a hand on his shoulder, surged forward and kissed him on the cheek. She heard him inhale softly, surprised by her. She lingered her lips there for slightly longer, it would've been so easy to trail the kiss to his lips, but it wasn't the right moment or place. She then slid her palm down his jaw as she stepped back.
"Goodnight, Matt."
He still looked a little thrown but then his features softened. "Goodnight."
I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for stopping by.