Matt sat at his desk, going through reports from the past year and a bit that concerned a man who even vaguely fitted the description of James Barnes. Some were clearly not him; the man mentioned was black or hispanic, or too old or too young, or later apprehended, or in California or Oregon or Wisconsin.

Barnes was careful and he was good, but he was becoming careless and sloppy. He was getting tired. There were some quite recent sightings of a man fitting his description around New York. The night Fisk had blown up half of Hell's Kitchen, someone had reported seeing a man "behaving suspiciously" in Midtown who matched Barnes's description. There was another sighting the night Fisk had been apprehended of a "suspicious looking homeless man" in East Village. It was interesting, Matt thought, that people only seemed to report something unusual when there was something bigger at play. How many people had walked past Barnes in the street without a second thought?

"Matt?" Karen tapped at his door. Matt had been so absorbed in the reports that he hadn't heard another woman enter their office. "A lady named Tanya Marinko from NYPD is here to see you."

"NYPD?" Matt asked. He could hear the other woman's heart beat. It was perfectly calm. Too perfect.

"She said it was about a missing person's case you were consulting with?"

"Oh yes," Matt said, "Of course. Thank-you, Karen. Send her in, please."

"Would you like me to get Foggy, too?"

"No, it's alright. I'll let you know if I need anything. Thanks."

"No problem," Karen said. "Mr Murdoch will see you now," Matt heard Karen say.

"Thank-you," said the lady.

Matt stood up as she entered. "Matthew Murdock, nice to meet you."

"Tanya Marinko," the lady replied and shut the door behind her, "And the pleasure is all mine." Matt reached out, and they shook hands. Matt noted that her handshake was perfect, just like her heartbeat. Her hands were warm, but not sweaty or clammy. Her voice sounded like syrup. Matt knew she'd had porridge with fruit, and a cup of tea for breakfast. He could smell the hairspray keeping her hair in place, and clothes were neat and clean and normal. Her perfume was exotic and expensive, likely the one luxury that she afforded herself, yet it was familiar. Too familiar.

"Ms Marinko," Matt said, sitting back down. He listened as she put down her bag and sat also, "They can't hear us through that wall, and I am 100% certain that my room is not bugged. Who are you really?"

"Gee, Matt, you really are as good as Cap said," Ms Marino said, sitting quite casually in the chair. Her voice made Matt feel all hot. "Any guesses?"

"This isn't a game."

"One guess."

She called him 'Cap', the perfume was too familiar, "Black Widow?"

"You should be a detective, Matthew Murdock," she said.

"I don't think I'd be that good. I can't see."

"Oh, I think you'd be fantastic."

Matt felt hot under the collar. Was she flirting? He rubbed his neck. "Natasha Romanov, I believe?"

"Sure, why not?"

"So why the disguise?"

"It's hardly a disguise. It's a blouse and skirt. Would you prefer me in something a little more comfortable?"

Matt crossed his legs. "Why are you here, Ms Romanov?" he asked.

"Same reason you're reading those reports, Mr Murdock," she said. Matt wondered how she could read the braille pages on his desk, or whether she had already known that he'd accessed them via the database. He felt a little intimated, almost outmatched. She was good. He liked that.

"Are the Avengers watching me?" Matt asked, trying to keep his cool.

"You're looking into someone who means a lot to us."

"Why do you care about the Winter Soldier?" Matt asked.

Natasha exhaled, pulled out the folder she had in her bag, and placed it on the desk. "Because he was hurt. And he was turned into something that he doesn't understand. What they did to him, Matt…" Natasha stopped and swallowed. That action and the slight increase in her heart rate told Matt that she cared about what happened to this guy.

"What's in the file?" Matt asked, trying to stay professional.

"It's everything SHIELD had on the Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, and the Winter Soldier. Seventy years worth of intelligence. But it's not exactly a bedtime story."

"I've seen some pretty horrible things, Ms Romanov," Matt said.

"I know," Natasha said, "Me too. But this, this is going to rank pretty high up whatever it is you've seen."

"Why are you giving it to me?" Matt asked, reaching out and pulling the folder a little bit closer.

"Steve trusts you and said we'd sent intel, so here I am. Bringing it in person was the safest way to ensure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. And we need help. Our current channels, our current methods, they're not working. You bring something new to the table."

"How much do the Avengers know about me?" Matt asked.

"Enough to know that if you ever need a job, all you have to do is call."

"Call?" Matt asked.

"Give me your phone," Natasha said, and held out her hand.

Matt took his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her. He didn't know why he was trusting her. She was a trained Soviet assassin, for goodness sake. She could control her heartbeat, which made it harder for Matt to get a proper read on her. But she was a friend of Captain America, and she genuinely wanted to help Barnes. "Just so you know, because I can't see technology - screens mess with my senses - whatever name you put as your first name is what my phone calls out when you ring. If you ring, I mean."

"So what would you like me to put?" Natasha asked.

"What were you going to put?" Matt asked.

"Anything wrong with 'Natasha Romanov'?" she asked.

"How would I explain that to Karen and Foggy?"

"Do they often go through your contacts list?"

"No."

"Well?"

Matt couldn't help it as he smiled. "I assume you already have my number," he said.

"Yes."

"Yes, of course, Captain America gave Black Widow my number."

"Better get used to it, Daredevil."

Matt's eyes widened, and he felt hot in the cheeks.

"Relax," Natasha said. "The only ones who know are myself, Cap, Sam, and Vision."

"Vision?"

"He's, ah, hard to explain. But he can wield Mjölnir, for what it's worth."

"Well that just fills me with confidence."

Natasha chuckled. "Well, I think I better be getting on," she said, and stood up. "But I no doubt I'll be seeing you around."

"Umm, right, of course," Matt said, and stood up. He felt his away around the desk and opened the door for her. "Thank-you for dropping by, I guess."

"Call me if you need anything," her shoulders straightening, her voice professional.

Matt noticed a change in her demeanour. Now that Karen and Foggy were listening, Natasha was putting on the act. "Will do. Thank-you again," Matt said.

"No problem," Natasha said, "Bye."

Matt listened as she let herself out of the office. The door clicked shut behind her.

"Matty, did you get her number?" Foggy asked, hurrying out of his office, the door to which was wide open. "She is hot as."

"She is really good looking, Matt," Karen said. "Are you alright, Matt? You're all pink in the cheeks."

"I'm fine," Matt said, trying not to blush. "It's just hot in my office with two people and the door closed."

"You sure you didn't want me to join?" Foggy asked, giving Matt a look that told him he would have questions afterwards. "Because like, woah, Matt. She's super fit and looks amazing, and she's NYPD? We should move to NYPD if they all look like that. Do they need lawyers? Why do they need lawyers?"

"Settle down, Foggy," Matt smiled.

"Nuh-uh Matty. You've been with some pretty hot girls, but I think she's possibly number one."

"Well," Matt said, quite aware of how attractive Natasha was, and, now that she was gone, feeling less intimidated, "I think she knows her stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some actual work to do."