Author's Note: To avoid any hassle or being called out, this will serve as a disclaimer for the whole story. I do not own any of the show's characters/storylines. Any original characters/deviations from the storylines are, obvs, my own invention from my brain juices. I do not accept/gain any monetary compensation for any of this, as it is purely for my own amusement (and, hopefully, yours).
A sense of finality simmered in the air around Daredevil. It was done. Fisk's true face was bared to the world and this time – this time – there were no loopholes, no way to cheat or manipulate the system. Not without hanging Vanessa in the process.
Daredevil worked his way across the city, the night's wind biting at the half of his face that was uncovered. What kept him moving was habit, but when he landed on the next rooftop, he wasn't fast enough to stop myself from stumbling. Something was wrong, he realized now, and he attempted to brace himself when his knees buckled. His familiar world of fire faded to gray smoke as he tilted forward. The floor rushed up at him but before he experienced the hit, his world went black.
Some feet away, Constantine remained in the folding chair, watching the infamous Devil of Hell's Kitchen drop face first onto the ground. They looked down at the freshly opened beer and sighed. "Of course," they muttered before setting the can to the side and standing, approaching the unconscious figure.
"Still breathing at least," Constantine muttered after turning him onto his back, carefully inspecting their surprise patient. The amount of red on his face concerned them the most. "You're not going to like this next part." With that, Constantine gently removed the black mask. A very familiar face greeted them in return.
Frank Castle's trial had taken the city by storm, after all, and his lawyers' were forced front and center into the spotlight with Castle. Constantine inspected his features, grabbing their flashlight out of habit and shining it into his eyes. "Right. Blind," they reminded themselves as the flashlight went back to their pocket. The habit of talking to themselves was not unknown. Their partner constantly reminded them how weird it was to suddenly walk in to Constantine listing injuries. "Nothing broken, at least. Some cuts – don't particularly like that side one – and mostly bruises. Easy peasy, devil boy." With the same care as before, Constantine placed the mask back on its owner and stood, preparing to treat him.
When Matthew came to, it was with a sharp gasp as he jolted into a sitting position. Immediately his head spun in protest, and he barely felt the weight of a blanket fall off him, but his hands immediately went to his face. Relief flooded him when he felt the mask in place, and then he tilted his head to the side after regaining his senses, listening to the calm heartbeat to his left. The person was seated, a drink in hand and their attention elsewhere. "Morning, sunshine," they said and Matthew didn't understand why they were smiling. "Right. Probably not the best greeting. I recommend lying back down and getting real sleep, though. An adrenaline crash, malnutrition, and long-term exhaustion are a hell of a mix."
"Who are you?" he asked in return, making to stand only for another wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, this time accompanied with nausea. "Fuck."
"Yeah, you're going to feel that for a bit," Constantine said. "I'm guessing you know where you are. A rooftop you fainted on, just with some slight upgrades. Blanket, pillow – you looked cold," they explained. "There's a water bottle next to you if you think you can keep down some water. I jammed the roof door shut with a chair so you could get some rest."
"I'm fine," Matthew said, only to earn a scoff in return. "I'll be going."
"Mr. Murdock, it really is best if you rest," Constantine insisted with a sigh. At the sound of his name, Matthew froze. "The next building you collapse on may not have a paramedic on it."
"Why?" Matthew asked through gritted teeth. There was no need to elaborate.
The sound of a new beer can opening dispersed the tense silence, and Matthew was confused and shocked at the amusement he sensed from the stranger. "If you witnessed the face-plant I saw, you'd check yourself for a broken nose, too," they said and Matthew frowned. "Add all the blood that was streaming out of you and there was no other choice. It was either see your face or have you possibly choke on your own blood."
"You could've walked away," Matthew countered, upset at himself for bringing in yet another life into his dangerous world. "Called an ambulance or the police."
"Why would I call a co-worker to do a job I know I can do myself? And much better than any of them, I'd say. Don't tell anyone I said that, though," Constantine replied, a playfulness under their tone. "And cops, well… Let's say recent events have proved my distrust of them is not unfounded."
Matthew found himself surprised at how he wanted to laugh at that comment. The silence stretched between them and his surprise grew with it when he noticed the stranger's heartbeat still going at a steady, undisturbed pace. "I appreciate what you've done," he finally spoke. "I should get going. Nothing good comes to those that help me."
"I know something about that," Constantine replied and this time, Matthew noted the barely audible exhale along with the uptick of their heartbeat. "I have a couch you can use. If you lose the mask and wrap yourself up in the blanket, you'd get by in the hallways without being noticed."
"I shouldn't," Matthew said after another pause.
"I won't offer twice," Constantine replied before draining the last of the beer. "I do have an important question, though."
"And what would that be?" Here it comes, Matthew thought. How do you do it? Are you actually blind? What do you see?
There was the soft rustle of them shifting in their seat. "Answer honestly now," Constantine warned, their eyes on the sky. "What's your favorite constellation?"
Caught off guard once more, Matthew sat stumped. Constantine looked over expectantly. "Excuse me?"
"I peg you as an Orion fan, with him being a hunter and all that," they said in response. "Or Libra. Truth and justice and all that jazz. That one fits both of your worlds, now that I think about it."
"Canis Major," Matthew said after a long minute. He was used to feeling anger or fear or even panic. Awkwardness was a new field for him. "The Big Dog."
"Really?" Constantine asked, the obvious amusement back in their voice.
"I like dogs," was Matt's reply and Constantine let out a genuine laugh. He reached for the water Constantine set out for him. He knew they were watching with curiosity more than suspicion. "What's yours?"
"The Phoenix," Constantine said without hesitation. "I like birds," they added cheekily and again Matthew felt shocked at wanting to laugh. "Too bad stargazing isn't a possibility in Hell's Kitchen."
Matthew sipped at the water and was relieved with how easily it settled in his stomach. "Why are you up here, then?"
"Relative quiet. Open space," they replied. "And the view is still pretty."
Constantine didn't ask any of the questions Matthew underwent with Claire or Foggy or Karen. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or suspicious. The night spread out before them, Constantine enjoying their beers and Matthew taking the occasional sip of water. His eyes were heavy. Hell, his whole body weighed a ton. His savior was right – he was in no condition to be hopping roofs. "Can I still take up your couch offer?"
The sound of rustling came from his left again and Matthew snatched a cap thrown at him. "To hide your face," Constantine explained as they stood from their chair. "Don't forget the pillow."
He could hear them folding the chair, tying up a bag of empty beer cans, and shutting a small, personal cooler. "Thanks," he said, pulling off the mask and sliding on the cap instead, pulling on the brim slightly. "For everything."
"Don't sweat it," Constantine said with a wave of their hand. When both had everything gathered up, Constantine guided them to the roof's door, moving the propped up chair from under the handle.
The hallways were empty and once they were in the safety of the apartment, Matthew was able to relax. "Just a couple hours then I'll be out of your hair," he promised as Constantine freed up the couch for him.
"Sure." The reply sounded easygoing, but something about it told Matthew that they knew something he didn't. He was too tired to think of it further, though. "I'll let you get settled in. My bedroom is just across the couch if you need anything. Make yourself at home, though. If you think you can eat, there's some leftover Korean BBQ in the fridge."
"Thanks. Sleep is all I need," Matthew assured as he moved to the couch and sat, beginning the laborious process of removing the Muay Thai ropes from around his hands and arms.
"Alright. Good night, Mr. Murdock," they said and opened the bedroom door.
"Wait." His Good Samaritan stopped and looked back at him curiously. "I didn't catch your name."
His host smiled at this. "I never gave it, and you hadn't asked, until now anyway. I'm Constantine Cruz. Call me Ti. I'm non-binary and use they/them pronouns."
"Not Connie?" Matthew asked with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Seems like the most obvious nickname."
"Only if you're looking to have a broken nose after all, devil boy," they said, laughing.
Matthew genuinely smiled at this. "Duly noted. Good night, Ti." With a wave, Constantine disappeared behind the bedroom door and Matthew was left with his exhaustion and roiling thoughts.