Chapter 5: And Into the Fire

She rubbed at her eyes with both hands. "I still don't understand this."

"What's not to understand?" Foggy asked. "Rich guy goes crazy. Rich guy was crazy. Rich guys blows up half of Hell's Kitchen. Handsome lawyers discover rich guy's devious plot, and rich guy goes to jail."

She dropped her hands. "Leaving out the fact that you are now rich-"

He grinned. "And my mom wanted me to be a butcher. A butcher." He looked at Matt. "Can you believe that crap?"

Matt's smile was soft and steady, something she'd been noticing was a more frequent occurrence over the past few weeks. Foggy's humor came easier, as if even the full weight of his grief couldn't hold it back forever, and on the heels of his humor, Matt's smile rode.

It was a point in favor of the light, she thought, even though the evening shadows had long been gathered around the office.

"Okay, but in all seriousness, why?"

"Why'd she want me to be a butcher?"

"No, why blow up the city? What was the point? What did he stand to gain? And if he didn't, who did?"

Matt's smile had faded. "Maybe someone he was working with."

"The Yakuza?" Foggy offered.

"That's what I'm thinking. We know Fisk spent some time in Asia…"

"Doing what?"

"I don't know. But it's a place to start."

"Not to poop on this party," Foggy said, looking at his watch, "but it's not. Trial starts tomorrow. It's nine o'clock, and some of us need our beauty sleep before appearing in court."

Matt nodded reluctantly. "I know it's not our case, but…"

"I get it, but we're not going to help Karen on no sleep. This hearing could go on for days. Let's see what we can find out tomorrow night. We'll feed it to Tower if we need to. Gloria, you want to share a cab home?"

"Thanks, but I'm going to clean up around here first. See you in the morning, Foggy."

"See you in the morning. Matt." Foggy nodded to his former partner as he walked out, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief as the tension slipped out the door after him.

Matt cleared up the remains of the Thai dinner they had all split, while she got their papers in order. Her mind was still reeling from the Yakuza, from Fisk, and from the nagging feeling that they were missing something big in all of this. She wondered…

Matt reached across her for the abandoned wine bottle, and as he did his arm brushed her own. She jerked at the contact, and the bottle crashed to the floor.

"Sorry," she muttered, face suddenly hot. "I wasn't paying attention." And now there was glass, and, surprisingly, leftover wine, all over the office.

"It's alright," he said with a chuckle. "I don't know that we have a broom."

"Mm. We have a broom," she said, moving to get it.

"Since when?"

"Uh, since I bought it."

She returned, swept up the mess. Matt was now sitting on the edge of her desk, and she found the fact that he hadn't moved disconcerting, as if, by sitting on her desk, he was somehow in her space. They were in his office, but she somehow felt she wanted him behind his own desk.

She had to move close to him to get her purse, which was now on the chair Foggy had abandoned, and fetching it brought them close enough for the hairs on her arm to rise. No doubt sensing her response, Matt moved closer, and she shivered, ever so slightly. They'd been close before. One didn't work in a small office with a blind man without occasionally making physical contact. Matt was unusually graceful, would have been even for someone with use of all his senses, yet there were places he still needed guidance.

It struck her, all of a sudden, that with Foggy on thin ice at best, she was the only person around to provide that guidance. The thought nearly broke her heart.

And perhaps Murdock sensed that too. He was very close, and his lips were millimeters from her own…

And she remembered herself and, slipping her hand around the handles of her purse, stepped back and away.

"Will there be anything else, Mr. Murdock?"

He looked startled, and his voice, when he answered, was rough. "No, Gloria, thank you."

Without another word, she left him standing there, and she didn't feel she breathed again until she was in the street.

DD***DD

She was almost the first person in the office the next morning.

"You still have a key?" she asked Foggy.

"Matt never asked for it back," he said, holding up his hands.

"I suppose it's not a terrible idea that someone else can get into this place," she mused, feeling the tension of the day ahead and the night before and hoping Foggy couldn't hear her voice shake. "With everything going on, if something should happen to us and…" She stopped. They weren't going down that road.

"Are you okay?" Foggy asked, frowning. "I know this is all a little scary, but trust me, Matt will keep you safe."

It was a statement that was entirely without merit, but he said it with such conviction she couldn't think to contradict him. In any case, Murdock chose that moment to arrive.

"And now that we're all assembled," Foggy said, "can we get this over with? I just want this day to be done and Fisk back in jail for good."

"You know it's probably not going to be that simple," Matt said.

"Yes, but I can live in my bubble for the cab ride at least."

"Speaking of which, would you mind hailing one for us all? Gloria and I need a minute."

Foggy glanced between the two of them. "Sure. Not like I haven't been in this situation before." He left shaking his head.

She leaned back against the desk, ironically choosing the same position Matt had held the night before. He moved so that he was standing in front of her, hands on his hips, but he maintained a distance of a good two feet.

"Miss Dunham, I owe you an apology."

She started to shake her head.

"No, I mean it. I was out of line. My actions were inappropriate, and I'm sorry. I'd had enough wine that I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to…take advantage of our situation. As your boss, it was a complete abuse of our respective positions. This job…even this city…can be very taxing, and sometimes I get…"

"Lonely?" she offered.

He smiled. "I was going to say 'impulsive,' but yes."

"It's alright, I get it." She stood. "And for the record, I apologize too. I didn't mean to leave the way I did. It wasn't entirely because of you."

He waited.

"There are things you don't know about me, things that would make anything that happened between us…uneven. I don't think it would be fair to pursue something under those circumstances."

"I appreciate your honesty, Gloria," he said, bending to pick up his briefcase and cane, "though I think you're being a little hard on yourself. " He held the door, now half out. "After all, we all have our secrets."

She smiled, glad it was over…And then the last piece of the puzzle slid into place, and she looked up, startled.

Murdock was already gone.

DD***DD

Foggy seemed to think it was his responsibility to keep the awkward silence at bay. She wished he would stop. It was hard to think with the weight of his words, hard to process this morning's revelation. Hard to wrap her mind around all that it meant.

It would have to wait. They were at the courthouse. They were thoroughly examined by security as they went in, and they filed into their seats under all the imposing mahogany of the Manhattan courthouse. Two rows ahead of them, District Attorney Tower was about to lead the charge for the prosecution, and to their right…

Wilson Fisk. He was clad in the generic orange of an inmate, yet he might as well have been wearing Armani, he carried himself so well. His lawyer, by contrast, could have stepped out of 70's courtroom drama. She knew better than to let his appearance disorient her.

"All rise."

They stood, and the judge appeared. A severe woman, but her eyes were steady. That was a good sign.

A few opening comments from the judge and bailiff, and they were once again seated.

Fisk's lawyer rose to his feet. "Your Honor, at this time, I'd like to move for a mistrial."

A general gasp rang throughout the assembly.

Two sharp rings of the gavel. "On what grounds, Mr. Donovan?"

"On the grounds that the evidence used to convict my client was obtained through the corrupt and illegal practice of vigilantism, Your Honor."

"Considering the crimes your client has been convicted of, Mr. Donovan, I wonder that you think you have a leg to stand on. Furthermore, this court is already aware of Daredevil's involvement."

"'Involvement' is putting it lightly, You Honor." Mr. Donovan moved out from behind his table, leaving Fisk to sit there, and it was suddenly very alarming how calm he was. "I understand this is highly irregular, but I would, at this time, like to beg the Court's permission to, in lieu of my opening statements, question several witnesses with the aim of supporting my claim."

"And what claim would that be, Mr. Donovan?"

The man turned, staring straight at them. "That not only did the then law firm of Nelson and Murdock obtain their information with the assistance of the known vigilante, but that Mr. Matthew Murdock is himself said vigilante."

It was hard, for a moment, to understand that the roar around her was the crowd, and did not exist solely in her ears. Beside her, Matt's frame had tightened, and beyond him, Foggy too was unnaturally still. Donovan was still staring at them, and the judge was banging her gavel repeatedly.

"Order! OR-DER!"

When the din had settled, the judge turned again to Donovan. "You are correct in calling this 'irregular.' I think, given the circumstances, stronger language is called for. Furthermore, and my apologies to Mr. Murdock, are you aware that the man you are accusing is blind?"

"A ruse, Your Honor, and I believe we can prove it. I beg the Court's leniency in this matter, as I do my best to make my case in the shortest time possible."

The judge was quiet for a long moment. Then, "I'll allow it." She struck the gavel once. "Proceed, Counselor."

"Thank you, Your Honor. As I've said, this claim requires stringing together the testimony of several witnesses. At this time, the Defense would like to call Miss Gloria Dunham to the stand."

Her eyebrows seemed to shoot to her hairline, and Matt's hand was on her arm, his grip fierce. But there was no time to think – she had to chose, and quickly. She slipped her hand into her purse and, locating the object she sought instantly, almost fatefully so, she thought, slipped it into her pocket. Then she reached across to squeeze Matt's hand, hoping he would take it as reassurance.

The walk to the stand was a blur.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

"State your full name for the record."

"Erinn Gloria Dunham."

Donovan was in front of her. She wondered who else he had lined up. She wondered what they knew. But it didn't matter. This would never go any further than her, not if she could help it.

"And your place of employment, Miss Dunham?"

As she met his gaze, she couldn't stop the corner of her lip from quirking, ever so slightly.

"The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"And…" Mr. Donovan was turning to face the assembly, already forming his next question. He whirled back around. "I'm sorry?"

"Better known as S.H.I.E.L.D."