Deciding to go with Jack was simple enough for Heather. Deciding what to take was somewhat more complicated. She didn't want to take too much, and she wasn't sure what she might need. She didn't bother packing any of her professional clothes; she was just going to be sitting in his apartment, so jeans, yoga pants, and sweaters would be fine. How many changes of clothes do I need?
The question prompted her to lean out of her bedroom door and ask, "Do you have a washing machine at your place?" If he did, Heather could get away with fewer clothes, but if Jack was going to have to make trips to a laundromat or something then she'd probably need more clothes.
Jack was sitting on one of her barstools, waiting for her to finish packing. "I do."
Heather nodded. "Okay, good." She ducked back in her room to keep packing. I've got clothes, I've got toiletries, what else do I need?
She didn't need any work stuff obviously. Oh, my laptop! Heather packed that, then thought of her important documents. She'd want to make sure she had her social, and birth certificate and things. Once she had those, she paused and looked around her room. She'd never thought packing could be this hard. What's going to happen to everything I leave behind? It wouldn't stay in her apartment, clearly. Would Wilson take it, when she was officially evicted? If he did, how would she get it back once he was -
Heather gripped the edge of her suitcase, suddenly realizing she was trying to get her brother arrested. Which he definitely deserved to be. But given what he'd done, Wilson was probably looking at being locked up for the rest of his life. That was - that was so final.
He's never going to forgive me for this, is he?
The thought hurt. Maybe it shouldn't, all things considered. But the idea of Wilson hating her made her chest ache.
"Everything alright?"
Heather jumped. Jack stood in the doorway; she hadn't noticed his approach. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to startle you."
"No, it's fine," Heather said. She wondered how he could move so quietly in his heavy looking boots. "I'm fine. Just, uh, thinking about what I might need."
His mouth thinned, and Heather abruptly remembered that he could tell when people lied to him. Her face heated. With all he was doing for her, the least she could do was be honest with him. She just wasn't used to being honest about the things that bothered her with, well, anyone really.
"I'm sorry," Heather said. "That's not true. Which I guess you noticed. Um. I'm not having second thoughts or anything, I promise. I just..." she trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish with her concerns. "You're going to think it's stupid."
He seemed to consider her words. Or maybe he was waiting to see if she'd keep talking. It was hard to read anything about him when she could only see half his face. After a moment he asked, "Is it something I can do anything about? Or something that will make things riskier?"
Heather shook her head. "No. On both counts."
He nodded. "Then you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
Relief flooded her. She wasn't sure if she understood how she was feeling about Wilson; it was all tangled and confusing. Heather wasn't ready to try and talk about it. It was nice to know that Jack wouldn't push her, as long as she didn't lie. She could just tell him she didn't want to talk about something.
I really don't have to pretend with him, do I?
Apparently, he could tell if she was upset whether or not she said anything, and he wouldn't push her to discuss it as long as it wasn't something that would put him at risk. Which meant pretending she was okay wasn't necessary. Heather couldn't remember ever not having to pretend with someone. Sure, some people required less pretense than others, but there was never anyone that she could be completely honest with. It was such a relief.
"Thanks," Heather said. She meant for more than just this moment, but wasn't sure if he realized that. Heather glanced around. "But, um, I really am having a hard time deciding what to bring. I'm not sure what's going to happen to my stuff, or how I'll get it back when this is over, or…" She trailed off, realizing how much of the future was uncertain.
How would she put her life back together when this was over? Would her reputation still be ruined? Would her job be waiting for her, or was she going to have to look for a new one? Would she even be able to find work in Hell's Kitchen, or would she have to move? Could she move? That would take money, and Heather didn't really have money anymore. Or what if this didn't work? What if Wilson was never arrested, what then? She couldn't hide out at Jack's place forever.
"You're starting to panic again."
Jack's words snapped her out of her thoughts. Heather took a deep breath; one hand pressed over her chest to try and slow her racing heart. "A little, yeah. I just…this is so much."
He took a step into her room. "I know. It is." His head turned, seeming to examine the room, and Heather had a fleeting moment of relief that there wasn't anything embarrassing out right now. "If you have anything particularly sentimental, you might want to bring it. Just in case."
"If your house was on fire, what would you save?" Heather mumbled, and he looked her way. She shrugged a little. "It's a game my students play sometimes. Kind of fits."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I guess it does. I'll leave you to it."
Once he left the room, Heather looked around again, assessing with a slightly different perspective. She was surprised to realize how many of the things in her room she did feel were replaceable. She wasn't sure how she'd manage to replace all of it if she needed to, but that was a problem for Future Heather. Her focus right now was on the things she couldn't stand the thought of losing.
Heather crossed to her dresser, and the small jewelry box on it. She didn't wear much jewelry, and most of what she had was costume anyway. But there was a ring, a gift from her mom when Heather had turned eighteen. Then she went for the scrapbook, the one that Becky had made as gifts for their group, chronicling their adventures through college.
She hesitated over a framed picture of her, Wilson, and her mom. It was from her birthday two years ago, her last birthday before their mom had had to be placed in a home. They'd surprised Heather with dinner and a play, and she'd managed to convince the notoriously camera-shy Wilson to allow a family photo be taken with the promise that she wouldn't post it online.
Mom's going to have no idea what's happened to me.
Heather wasn't sure how much of a difference it would actually make in her mom's day-to-day life. Heather tried to visit her fairly regularly, but it was hit or miss if her mom even recognized Heather, or knew how long it had been since Heather's last visit. Maybe this could work in Heather's favor for once, and her mom wouldn't even notice that Heather wasn't visiting anymore.
Heather left the picture where it was, and carried her suitcase back into the living room. There was still room in it, and there were a few more things she wanted to make sure she took. She set the suitcase on her coffee table, and eyed her two bookshelves with longing. She wished there was some way she could bring all of her books with her; Heather hated the thought of losing any of them. Still, when it came down to it, she could eventually replace them. But there were a couple volumes that were special; her well-worn volume of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and a paperback copy of Grimm's Fairytales, both childhood gifts, as well as a few others. She packed them into the suitcase and zipped it up.
Jack had returned to sitting on the barstool while he waited. "All set?" he asked.
"I think so," Heather said, glancing around her apartment one last time. She felt a pang as she realized that this might really be the last time. The chances of this being resolved in the next two weeks seemed slim to none, and once she was evicted, she'd never be able to rent here again.
As she looked around, her coffee machine caught her eye, and a sudden, alarming thought occurred to her. "You do have a coffee maker, right?"
Jack slowly tilted his head. "If I said no, would you actually bring your coffee maker?"
Heather's face heated and she crossed her arms defensively. "I'm about to go into hiding for an undetermined amount of time. I'm not giving up coffee too."
"I have one, yes," Jack said, amusement clear in his voice.
"Okay, good then," Heather said. She bit her lip, trying to think if there was anything else she might need. Oh!
She moved to the kitchen, and Jack swiveled on the stool to follow her movement. "Are – are you bringing it anyway?"
"What? No," Heather said. She went for the cabinet above her coffee maker. "But I buy a really good brand of coffee, and it would be a waste to leave it."
"How would you know it's good with the amount of creamer you use?" he asked dryly.
Heather sputtered, caught off guard by the light teasing. "That's – you – you know what? Just for that, you can't have any of it."
He looked amused by her reaction, and in the face of his amusement, Heather considered not following through with the other half of her initial plan. Her hesitation only lasted half a second though, and she spun on her heel and went for her fridge. It's my favorite, and I'm not leaving it. When she turned back around with two bottles of creamer in hand, Jack was very obviously trying to hold back a smile. "You're bringing your own creamer."
Heather sniffed, and tried to pretend she wasn't blushing. "Peppermint mocha is my favorite," she grumbled, "and stores are going to stop selling it soon, because apparently it can only be sold around Christmas." It was the whole reason she had the extra bottles in the first place.
He still seemed amused by her actions, but he just nodded. "Okay."
Heather packed up her coffee and creamer in a bag, then went for her rain jacket. The rain had slowed while she was packing, but it hadn't stopped. "Right. I think I'm ready now."
Jack stood from the stool and got her suitcase from the coffee table. "Then we should head out." Heather moved for the door at the same time he went for the window, and both of them stopped when they realized the other was going in the opposite direction.
Heather's flush deepened as she realized that obviously Jack couldn't just walk through her building. "Right. Window. Of course."
He opened the window, set her suitcase outside, then slipped out himself. Heather felt awkward as she climbed out after him; she'd never set foot on her fire escape before. She turned to close the window behind them and paused. This was really it. She was really about to run away and hide for the Lord only knew how long. Once she did this, there was no turning back. She bit her lip, and pushed the window shut.
Jack moved to the stairs leading down. "Careful you don't slip," he told her.
She followed him, trying to keep her steps light on the metal. It still amazed her how Jack could make so little noise while he moved. They made it to the ladder that led down to the alley, and Jack went first. The ladder didn't make it all the way to the ground, but he jumped the last couple feet like it was nothing.
"Is there any way we can lower this thing?" Heather asked, careful not to raise her voice too loud. There probably wouldn't be people around in this weather, but she couldn't be too careful.
"Nope," Jack said. "It's too rusted to lower. Just come down and I'll help you."
Heather was reluctant, but she had to get off the fire escape somehow. She wrapped the straps of the bag over her wrist and gingerly climbed onto the ladder. The metal rungs were wet and slick, and she clung to them grimly as she slowly made her way down. Her feet made it the last rung and she paused.
"You're not far," Jack said. "Just lower yourself, and I'll catch you."
She glanced down; he said it wasn't that far, but the ground looked uncomfortably distant from where she was. Heather took a deep breath. Don't be a wimp, Heather. You can do this.
Carefully, Heather slid one foot off the ladder and started lowering herself down. She didn't make it far before necessity dictated that she lower her other foot too, and her hands started to slip on the wet rung. Before she could even think to be alarmed, she felt Jack's hands on her hips, slowing her decent and guiding her down. She still stumbled when her feet hit the ground, only managing to stay upright because Jack was standing behind her.
"See? Not so bad."
Heather shot him an unamused look. "Speak for yourself."
He just smiled and let go of her, picking up her suitcase and moving down the alley. "Let's go; we've got a bit of a walk."
She hastily followed after him. He stuck to deserted, dim back alleys, and it wasn't long before Heather was completely turned around. She thought she knew Hell's Kitchen pretty well, but she didn't exactly make wandering through alleyways a frequent event. Jack on the other hand seemed to know exactly where he was going; his steps never faltered or hesitated, even going through areas dim enough that Heather could barely see.
I hope we're almost there.
Even with her jacket on, Heather was getting pretty damp, and it was cold on top of it. She hoped the rain wouldn't soak through her suitcase and damage her books. She wished she'd have thought to put them in plastic bags or something to waterproof them.
Jack came to a stop, and Heather almost walked into him, but she managed to catch herself just in time. "This is my building," he said. "I have to go in through the roof, but you can use the front door. This alley will take you to the front. My apartment is on the top floor."
He handed over her suitcase to her, and Heather was a little surprised at the actual weight of it when she took it. Jack hadn't acted like carrying it around was a strain at any point during their walk. "Okay. See you in a minute."
He moved back into the shadows, and Heather lost sight of him almost immediately. The moment she did, her heartrate kicked up, suddenly feeling vulnerable and alone. She walked quickly down the alley, eager to get inside the building and back to safety.
The lobby was deserted, and the elevator empty. The ride up felt frustratingly slow, and when she made it, Heather didn't wait for the doors to open completely before she was stepping out into the hall. She made it to Jack's door then hesitated, uncertain if she should knock, or if he'd have even made it into his apartment yet. She didn't have time to make up her mind, because he opened the door without her knocking.
Heather went in, and Jack quickly closed the door behind her, flipping the lock shut. Heather looked around; his apartment was bigger than hers, though sparsely furnished, with gorgeous exposed brick walls, and wide windows that most New Yorkers would kill for. Though maybe not in this particular apartment, given the flashing digital billboard across the street shown brightly enough that one almost didn't need to turn lights on at all.
She set her suitcase down, and turned towards Jack, uncertain about what she should say or do next. She thought he seemed equally uncertain, though between the dim lighting and the mask, it was hard to be sure. He let out a breath of air. "I guess this is the part where I tell you who I am."
He reached up and tugged off the mask. "My name is – "
"Matt?"
He paused, looking taken aback by Heather's sudden exclamation. "…I didn't think you'd remember me," he said.
"Literally running into people isn't the kind of thing I forget," Heather managed to say, still stunned by the revelation of who he actually was. She tried to reconcile the charming man she'd briefly met with everything she'd seen him do in the mask, and couldn't. "Wait, aren't you –?" she abruptly stopped her question, only realizing after it had started to slip out that it might be rude to ask.
"Blind?" he finished for her. "Yeah. I am."
He didn't seem offended, and Heather was completely baffled by this turn of events, so she decided to keep going with it. "Then how…?"
Matt moved into the apartment, tossing his mask onto his table. "Remember how you guessed I have powers? You weren't wrong." He ran a hand through his hair, which was sticking up thanks to the mask he'd been wearing. "There was an accident, when I was nine. I pushed a man out of the way of a crashing truck, and got chemicals splashed in my face. They blinded me, but they also enhanced my other senses."
Heather drifted towards him, fascinated by his story, and reconsidered the things she'd seen him do in light of this new information. "So that's how you knew that cop was in the warehouse? And that the building was surrounded? You could hear them, or something?"
"…That's right," Matt said.
"How do you tell when people are lying?" Heather asked. Enhanced senses sounded incredibly useful, but she wasn't sure how they could lead to that particular skill.
"When someone lies, their heartbeat changes," Matt said. "Breathing too, sometimes. I know what it sounds like."
Heather's lips parted slightly. His hearing was that good? That he could actually listen in on someone's heart? No wonder he can tell how the people around him are feeling.
"That's amazing," Heather said. "Is it just your hearing, or are your other senses enhanced too?"
His brows furrowed, and he didn't respond immediately, and for a moment Heather worried she might be pushing her boundaries by asking about his abilities. Before she could retract the question, he answered. "The others are enhanced too. I could tell Fisk had been at your place earlier because I could still smell his cologne. And I was able to avoid your bruises because there's a slight temperature variation where the bruises are."
That information only served to make Heather more curious, but a yawn cut her off before she could decide what question to ask next.
"It's late," Matt said. "Let me change and then you can have the bedroom."
"What? Oh, no, I don't want to kick you out of your room," Heather protested.
He was already moving towards the bedroom, and he waved a hand in dismissal. "It's fine. I'll sleep out here easier than you will."
He was probably referring to the billboard that lit up his apartment with flashing colors, but Heather was tired enough that she wasn't sure the light would affect her sleep at all. Matt didn't give her the chance to say so, going into his room and sliding the door shut.
Heather stood where she was awkwardly a moment, then remembered the bag she was holding with her creamer and coffee in it. Guess I should put these away.
She felt a little like she was intruding when she walked into his kitchen, but she knew she was going to have to get over that feeling. If she was going to be here a while, then she'd need to just get used to being here. She opened the door to the fridge and was surprised to see how organized the contents were. Heather tended to shove food wherever it would fit, but Matt clearly had a system going on. She fit the creamer into an open space on one of the door shelves and hoped she wasn't taking a spot where something else was supposed to go.
Heather shut the fridge then glanced around the kitchen. She spotted his coffee machine and figured that was probably a good area to start looking for where he kept the coffee. She ignored the awkward feelings of discomfort as she looked through the cabinets, and luckily it only took two tries to find the coffee so she could put hers away.
Matt's bedroom door opened, and he walked out now dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. "The bedroom is all yours."
She considered trying to protest the arrangement again, but her exhaustion weighed down on her. Heather decided she'd shelve that discussion for tomorrow. They would revisit it though; she refused to kick him out of his room indefinitely.
"Thanks," she said. "Goodnight." Heather got her suitcase and went to his room, sliding the door shut behind her. That left the room much darker than the living room had been, and she fumbled a bit searching for the light switch so she could see. His room was as sparsely furnished as the rest of his apartment. Heather set her suitcase in an out of the way corner before digging through it to get her pajamas and toiletries. She took her time getting ready for bed, noting as she did that the bathroom and bedroom were also particularly organized.
I'll have to be careful where I put stuff. Heather had kept her place decent enough, but the only time anything got properly cleaned or organized was if she was stress cleaning. Matt obviously kept things neater than she tended to, and she didn't want to be an annoying guest.
Her evening routine complete, Heather flipped the lights out and crawled into the bed. Are…are his sheets silk? She rubbed the material between her fingers, and yes, those were definitely silk sheets. An extravagance she wouldn't have expected, given how sparse everything else about Matt's apartment was, and somehow it made her feel guiltier for taking his room, even though he'd been the one to insist.
I'll definitely sleep on the couch tomorrow.
But for tonight, she snuggled down under the covers, cocooning herself in the sheets and comforter, and let her heavy eyelids drift closed.
Matt hesitated outside his bedroom door. He didn't think he'd ever felt awkward about trying to go into his own room before, but despite what Foggy thought, he didn't actually have women sleeping in his bed that often.
It's morning. I have a job I need to get ready for. All my things are in there.
He should have thought that through last night, but he hadn't. Or maybe it wouldn't have mattered, since there was only one bathroom in his apartment, and that was also in his room. Based on her breathing, Heather was still sleeping pretty deeply. There was a decent chance she wouldn't wake up when he went in there. Still, if he did accidentally wake her up, he didn't want her to be freaked out by the fact that he'd gone in while she was asleep.
…Or maybe it wouldn't bother her at all. Matt kind of assumed it would, because it seemed like the sort of thing that would bother most women. But Heather had continuously surprised him by not reacting to things the way he thought she would. Matt was about ready to give up trying to predict anything when it came to her.
Regardless, he still needed to get ready for work, and hovering outside his bedroom door wasn't going to help with that. He sighed, then slid the door open. Matt moved on silent feet, careful to keep noise to a minimum as he got his clothes and then slipped into the bathroom. Heather didn't stir at all until Matt turned the shower on. He paid attention, hoping she wouldn't be alarmed when she realized he'd been in there while she was asleep.
She wasn't. Her heart stayed slow and steady, and she laid in the bed a minute longer before kicking the covers off and shuffling out of the bedroom and to the kitchen. For once she did act predictably by going ahead and putting the coffee on.
Heather's one constant; her love of coffee.
Matt showered and dressed quickly, but by the time he was done and went out in the living room, Heather was sitting at the table sipping on her drink. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning." She gestured towards the kitchen. "Coffee's ready."
He could tell by the smell that she'd made a pot of her coffee, not his, and he couldn't resist teasing her a little over it. "I thought I wasn't allowed to have your coffee?"
She shrugged. "Yeah, well, you let me have the bed last night, so I guess you've earned it."
"Generous of you," Matt said, pouring himself a cup. He heard her stomach growl. "Scrambled eggs fine for breakfast?"
"Oh, you don't have to," she started, but Matt cut off her protests with a shake of his head.
"I'm cooking for myself anyway. It's just as easy to cook for two."
"Um. Then, sure," she said.
She's nervous now.
He couldn't blame her. This wasn't exactly a normal situation, though he was doing his best to act like it was. Matt took sip of the coffee as he walked over to the fridge to get the carton of eggs. "Mm. You were right."
Heather looked over at him. "About what?"
"This is really good coffee."
The comment got a quiet laugh out of her and her shoulders relaxed. "If there's one thing I do know, it's good coffee."
Silence fell over them as Matt got busy fixing their breakfast, but this time it didn't feel uncomfortable. "Want toast?" he offered.
She set her mug down on the table. "Sure. Just tell me where the bread is and I'll fix that."
Matt nodded towards his pantry. "Top shelf."
Heather followed his directions and found the loaf of bread. "Do you want one slice or two?" she asked.
"Two please," Matt replied.
It was a little strange, having someone other than himself moving about in his kitchen. Well, himself or Foggy. Foggy always helped himself to Matt's kitchen when he was over. The benefits of a decade long friendship. Matt supposed he'd get used to it.
"Do you have jelly?" Heather asked.
"Middle shelf in the fridge," he answered.
She went to the fridge and paused a moment before grabbing the jelly. "Hey, um, I was thinking and is there anything I should avoid doing while I'm here? I appreciate you letting me stay, and I'd like to minimize the inconvenience."
Matt tilted his head back like he was thinking. "Try not to throw any wild parties?"
She frowned. "Matt, I'm being serious."
"I know." He moved the frying pan off the hot burner. The eggs were done. He turned to grab plates. "Honestly, Heather, I don't have any big rules for you." Being stuck at his place was going to be hard enough already. Matt didn't want her to feel like she was walking on eggshells the whole time she was there. His response didn't seem to put her at ease though. "Just keep things kind of neat, and try not to let anyone know you're here."
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and slowly nodded. "Okay. But if I do anything annoying, you'll tell me?"
"I promise," Matt said, scooping the eggs onto plates.
The toast finished cooking, and Matt carried the plates over to her so she could two pieces on each of the plates. Then he carried them to the table, and Heather followed after with the jelly and his cup of coffee. "I'm not sure what time I'll get back from work," Matt said. Hours at the office were unpredictable right now, especially since part of his time would doubtlessly be spent trying to figure out a way to take care of Fisk from the more legal side of things. "Try to figure out if you left anything important, and let me know when I get back. If you did, I can get it for you tonight."
"Oh, thanks," she said. She slathered jelly on her toast.
Matt noted the amount she used, and added a line to his very short list of constants that he knew about her. Loves coffee, has a sweet tooth.
"Oh!" she said suddenly, and Matt paused.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"No," she said. "I mean, I don't think…I just had a thought. You're sense of smell is really sensitive, right? Will my shampoo bother you? I know some shampoo can bother people that aren't sensitive to smells, and I don't mind using something different while I'm here if-"
"Your shampoo is fine," Matt said, cutting off the flow of words. The light vanilla scent wasn't unpleasant, and mostly drowned out by the coffee she was always drinking anyway.
"Good," she said, sounding genuinely relieved.
Tack another one to the list of surprises.
Heather had taken the information about what Matt could do much more in stride than he'd expected. No, that wasn't quite right. She hadn't merely taken it in stride. She'd just accepted it, without any sort of reservation or hesitation.
"That's amazing."
She'd meant it. And she hadn't made any comment about his abilities being strange, or invasive. He wouldn't have been upset if she had, because Matt knew that what he did – listening to people's hearts, their breathing, monitoring their body temperature, noting the smells that hung around them – all of it was invasive. It was more detail than most people could notice, and it wouldn't be out of line for Heather to be uncomfortable with it.
But she wasn't. And not only was she not uncomfortable, she was going out of her way to make sure she wasn't aggravating him, now that she knew what he could do, and…
Matt didn't know what to make of it.
He ran his thumb over the hands of his watch. It was still a little earlier than he normally left for work, but he decided it was close enough.
"I'd better get going," Matt said, standing.
Heather snagged his plate before he could pick it up. "I'll take care of the dishes."
"Thanks," Matt said. "I'll see you this afternoon."
He listened to her movements as he left the building. It was strange, hearing someone move around in his place when he wasn't there. Guess I'm going to have to get used to it.