A/N: Thanks for your continued interest.

Chapter 9

Matt lasted a little over four hours at the office the following Monday. Foggy authorized a long lunch for himself to usher Matt home as well as an early dismissal for Karen to make sure Matt was completely settled a few hours later. She brought a bag of groceries when she arrived. His appetite really hadn't improved, with the exception of Friday's pizza, but she chose a selection of what Foggy had had advised were his favorites just anyway. She found him asleep on the couch when she granted herself entrance with Foggy's key. She attempted to avoid disturbing him as she put things away, but he woke when she was about halfway through her reorganization of his kitchen shelves.

"Karen?" he croaked, his voice still thick with sleep and underlying exhaustion.

"Yeah, it's me. Just restocking your supplies here."

He'd never find anything, but whatever. He hadn't starved yet. "Thanks."

"Do you need anything?"

He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Just some water when you get a chance."

"Sure." She filled a coffee mug and sat it on the table in front of him. "Have you talked to Liz?"

Way to cut to the chase, Karen. He shook his head. "Not since she left here Saturday morning."

"Matt," she scolded softly.

"I don't want to talk about it." He sat up, making room for her on the couch. He knew her well enough by now to know that they were going to talk about it.

She took her place on the cushion beside him. "What happened?"

"That is precisely what I don't want to talk about."

Her hand rested on his thigh just above his knee, her touch light but firm, grounding. "If this is a case of you being stubborn, then you should get over it."

He twisted out of her reach, more out of instinct than spite. "Who says this is my fault? Who says she didn't run out on me?"

"You did. Just now," Karen answered. She exuded calm with no change in her breathing or heart rate. Matt hadn't expected that, hadn't expected her to see right through him.

"Karen," he sighed.

Her hand found him again, pulled him back. "You haven't cornered the market on perception, Matt." He dropped his head. Karen thought she saw him nod, or maybe she imagined it. Either way, she pushed on. "You really should talk to her."

He raised his head, turning it toward the windows. "It's really complicated."

Karen moved her hand to his face, her grip again light but firm, and directed his gaze in her direction. "Yeah. It is. Until you talk to her and un-complicate it."

Mat longed to stand, to walk away from her, from this conversation. But he was stuck – in so many ways. "The more I talk, the more complicated things become."

Karen shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you about that."

"It's okay." It really was. "This isn't your problem to fix." It really wasn't.

"Maybe not, but that's not how this works."

Matt scowled. "What do you mean?"

"You're not alone anymore here, Matt." She squeezed his hand.

He closed his eyes, wishing that were true, willing it to be so, even with the obvious drawbacks. "Karen," he tried to protest.

She shut him down with a dogged shake of her head and the continued stabilizing grip on his hand. "Nope. Like it or not, you and Foggy and I are family. It's a weird little unit, but it is what it is. And family means nobody gets left behind."

"Oh my God," Matt snickered, realizing he should try to keep a straight face, unable to appreciate the stricken look on Karen's. "He's got you watching Disney movies now, too?"

"What?" The pitch of Karen's voice elevated about an octave at the end of the word.

"That's from Lilo & Stitch," Matt revealed with a little wag of his head and a roll of his eyes.

"Is it really?" she asked. The phrase had sounded familiar on the way out of her mouth.

"Yeah," he chuckled again. "It definitely is."

"Oh, dear." Karen laughed now, too.

He realized her hand was still in his and squeezed back as though employing their own version of Morse code. "You two are a good match."

"Yeah?"

He appreciated the hope that one word held and nodded decisively. "Absolutely. And if I didn't know by now, this totally seals it."

Karen's hand inched up his forearm. "Talk to her. There's no sense in speculating about anything until you do."

He sighed, a cloud descending across his visage. "Who would be crazy enough to sign up for all of this?"

"Foggy says she didn't bat an eye the night he found you," Karen offered, searching to bolster the argument with some sort of objective evidence. "She just walked right in and took charge."

He shrugged that off with a simple explanation. "She's an ER doctor." Liz had said as much herself.

Karen nodded. "She is. And seems like she can handle herself just fine. She just might be able to handle you, too."

"It's not fair," he whispered. It wasn't. He prided himself in keeping his circle safe, but it kept expanding. And if something happened to one of them now, there would be almost nothing he could do to remedy the situation.

She let her shoulders rise and fall. "Maybe not, but you have to let it be her choice, too. What really isn't fair is if you make this one for her." She paused before she punctuated her point. "You know how you hate people doing that for you."

"Yeah. But if I do…" he trailed off.

"You give her the chance to let you down. Yep. That's how it works, Matt."

He dropped his head into his hands. "People always leave."

Karen grinned as she playfully nudged his healing side with her elbow. "That's One Tree Hill."

"So it is," he confirmed with a side eyed smile and a wink. This girl was perfect for Foggy.

Karen decided on her final angle. "She uses your soap, for goodness sake. That's almost on your level of crazy."

Matt considered this for a moment before he nodded. "I guess it is."

"Talk to her."

Thankfully, Monday lived up to its reputation. Everything that could possibly be put off over the weekend needed to be attended to immediately as the workweek and Liz's shift started at 7 am. While her colleagues whined about not having a moment to sit, eat, drink, or pee all day, Liz found herself thankful she hadn't a moment to spend thinking about anything other than work.

She'd held the phone in her hand the night before. She pulled Matt's number up on the screen three, four, five times but stopped herself each time before connecting the call. She told herself that if he wanted to talk he'd call, even though she knew how statistically unlikely that was. He billed himself as self-sufficient, but with a healthy dose of self-righteousness. She guessed he rarely found occasion to talk about his feelings or that he chose reach to out to others too often. Or ever. She knew Foggy found him on the roof that night because he'd been waiting, not because Matt had asked for help. There was no way Matt would fight to fix this rift.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jim's earlier critique of Liz had been spot on; she had a type. And it wasn't good guys like Jim. Hell. From the news it seemed like Superman was getting along pretty well these days with minimal drama reported in his personal life. Maybe she should head over to Metropolis and mess around with that, too, seeing as she seemed to flock to the virtuous. Plus or minus the damage.

She closed her eyes in a moment of consternation, opening them immediately as she relived the look of betrayal on Matt's face the last time they'd been together. She'd wanted to be honest. She was attracted to every part of what made him who he was. She thought he might understand that, even as he struggled with accepting it himself. Obviously she'd been remiss in that thinking.

"Liz! GSW on the way in to Trauma 1," the charge nurse yelled toward her. She shook the cobwebs and fog as she looked up from the unfinished chart in front of her and nodded. She grabbed a yellow gown and jogged into the room to prepare for the incoming ambulance. She could definitely use something nice and easy like a gunshot wound to distract her from thoughts of Matt Murdock about now.

Two hours after her shift ended and she'd completed a good chunk of the day's documentation, she stumbled onto a subway car headed south toward home. Instead of exiting at 72nd street as was her routine, she sat glued to her seat until the A train's next stop at 50th street and 8th avenue. She hesitated for a moment on the platform, almost choosing to cross to where she could enter the one headed in the opposite direction. But she didn't. They needed to talk, and she'd need to be the impetus for the conversation.

She covered the blocks to his building and then climbed the six flights, shifting her work bag from shoulder to shoulder as she ascended. Each landing provided her with the opportunity to turn around and disappear, but Liz kept going. She stopped in front of his door and exhaled. She hoped he wasn't listening. She still wasn't completely sure how the super sense thing worked. Sometimes it seemed like he required Zen-like concentration, and other times he just heard or knew or perceived or whatever. Hopefully he was a least partially distracted, at least for another few seconds as she collected her courage and willed her heart to slow its staccato serenade of her inner ear. She inhaled a gigantic breath, and then she knocked.

"Just a minute." The terse reply came from a voice deep inside the apartment. Then thirty to forty seconds later, with the clamor of crutches approaching the door and the peep hole that she realized provided him very little information. "Who's there?"

"It's me. It's Liz."

"Okay," he decided. "Hold on."

She started to ask if he was sure, but she wasn't sure that it mattered. She needed to see him. He opened the door and stood there for a minute, not certain what to say. She decided on silence herself. She'd exerted nearly all the effort to make this dialogue happen in the first place. He could make the second move.

"Are you coming in?"

"Yeah."

He backed awkwardly out of her way, misjudging the distance and hitting the back of his head against the wall in his attempt to allow her admittance to the apartment. He bit his lip, but a little groan escaped, nonetheless.

"Matt! Are you okay?" She rushed toward him.

"Just tired," he sighed, slowly righting himself.

She reached for his shoulder, stopping her hand midair, just short of touching it. "Can I?" she asked.

He rallied, pulled himself up to his full height and swung the crutches into ready position. "I can manage, thanks," he replied, a decidedly cold edge to his voice. "After you."

She started to say something about his stubbornness but instead swallowed it as she nodded and pivoted herself in the direction of the living room. When she arrived, she ignored his cocoon on the couch and sat in an armchair across from where he'd clearly been sleeping.

"Would you like something to drink?" he inquired as he approached the sitting room.

"No. I won't stay long. I smell like hospital." If she could notice it, he definitely could.

Matt wrinkled his nose. "And subway."

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "Occupational hazard." She wasn't sure if he meant hers or his. Either way. He found the couch and sat. "Did you need something?"

He appeared exhausted, dark circles ringing his eyes. She almost stated that she'd come back another time, although she wasn't sure that she would. It was now or never. "We should talk."

He leaned back against the couch cushion. "I'm not sure that I want to."

"Will you listen, then?"

He pondered this before offering an almost imperceptible nod. She exhaled with relief. "I'm sorry that what I said upset you, but I'm not sorry I said it, and I'm not taking it back."

"Okay," he grunted, eyes closed, face turned toward the ceiling, as though this exchange was causing Matt as much discomfort as his surgery.

Liz tried to pay little attention to his posture. He needed to hear what she had to say, and as long as he was awake, he could stand on his head if he wanted. She lowered her voice, injecting as much veracity as she could muster in the next statement, maybe the most imperative she'd ever uttered. "Every part of who you are is attractive to me, Matt."

His head swiveled forward, eyes open. "Even…that night?" He stumbled over his words, only managing to verbalize the three.

She shrugged. "First impressions, I guess."

"Of me bleeding on the couch? Yes. Irresistible." Matt rolled his eyes before he turned absently toward the window.

She stood and walked across to where he sat. She wiggled in beside him, pushing a silk sheet and satin trimmed chenille blanket aside. "Yes."

He turned his face to a neutral position, not yet willing to face her. "Come on, Liz. There's no way that's true."

She settled back and crossed her legs. "Okay, then what part of you should I ignore? Should it be the fact that you're blind, but you have four amazing senses that allow you to help your neighbors in a way that makes a real difference in a corrupt city? And maybe it's me, but I don't think you're going out there for glory seeing as you wear a mask, and it's clearly not for your health. I think that maybe you go because you understand what it feels like to be relegated to the margins by society's ignorance and misconceptions. So that gives you a sense of need to protect those who can't protect themselves. Would you suggest I overlook that?"

She shrugged. "Or maybe it's just who you've always been. I don't many kids who would have thought to do what you did." Matt's eyes widened as he finally turned toward her, emitting a little surprised squeak as she continued. "I know all about that, too. And maybe you didn't think about what happened that day. Probably you didn't. And honestly, if that's all I ever knew about you, it would be enough. But I know more, Matt.

"I know about Landman and Zack. I know how you brought down Fisk and dismantled his network, and how you haven't left Hell's Kitchen to fend for itself even though he's off the streets because your city isn't fixed yet. I know a lot about you, Matt. And it's really fucking attractive. Even in light of how goddamned stupid you can be."

He blinked, his eyes trained on her, straining to perceive as much of her profile as possible, his senses hyper concentrated on deciphering her form using the air currents swirling around her. "I thought…I just…I didn't…" he stammered.

"I know." She placed her hand on his left leg. "You didn't let me explain before you shooed me out the door half-naked."

"I'm sorry. I'm used to being underestimated," he managed after a moment or two of silence.

Liz pulled in a deep breath and exhaled before she spoke again. "So am I. But my eyes are open, Matt. I'm not some blushing ingénue. Let me love you, or at least figure out if I want to."

He leaned forward, balled fists pressing against his forehead as his elbows rested on his knees. "It's too hard. It's too much."

"You don't get to decide that, Matt." She moved her hand from his thigh and slid her fingers between his, finding the palm of his clenched hand and coaxing him to release the tension in his fingers as she pulled his upper body toward hers. "Not on your own."

His forehead found its resting place against hers as he respired a shaky breath. "Okay."

TBC