Returning to school after the weekend Ruth had was—predictably—extremely difficult. She sincerely didn't know if Vanessa actually had someone staked out watching Ruth's every move or if it was an exaggerated way of telling her to watch her back. Either way, Ruth could feel the eyes on her. She tried to act as casually as possible, but a third grade student asking her if something was wrong was enough to send her spiraling. She stayed in her classroom during lunch—which she normally spent with the first grade teachers whose lunch fell during the same block—and wallowed. Her life was over.

This whole thing was just so fucked up. Matt had been out of her life for years, and the second he shows up again, everything goes to total shit. Had he agreed to help her? Yes. Was there anything he could conceivably do to actually help her? Nope! The contract alone was ridiculous—and definitely not legal—and her only hope was that he could somehow do some lawyer-y stuff and get her out of it. But that would probably just get everyone killed in the end. Jesus, and that was a whole other thing to process. People's actual lives were in danger here. That just didn't feel real .

Ruth's desperation gave her a sliver of confidence that she would somehow be able to reason her way out of Vanessa's evildoing. As far as Ruth was aware, she had very few options, and she figured with Matt and his stupid vigilante persona on her side, she could probably avoid being killed by the woman. (Wishful thinking!)

Ruth had hoped she'd have a few Vanessa-free days before having to face the music again, but alas, her phone buzzed at 3:12 with a text message that read: Meet me at the gallery. 3:30 today. Blegh. Ruth considered for a moment saving the number and making Vanessa a contact, but that seemed even more fucked. And also for legal purposes probably bad. But again, what the hell did Ruth know about any of this?

Ruth pushed open the glass doors to Vanessa's art gallery at 3:28, hoping whatever this lady wanted would be quick. Her couch was calling her name. Ruth's canvas shoes clicked softly on the hardwood as she came upon Vanessa. Per usual, she was dressed like a Bravo Housewife, contemplating an art piece hanging from the blank white wall.

" Day and Night ." Vanessa said without acknowledging Ruth's entrance. Ruth looked at the painting, expecting Vanessa to give some lecture about its complexities, but she remained silent.

"It's. . .pretty." Ruth said into the silence, feeling weird. Ruth enjoyed art, but she wasn't in any state to be analyzing it.

"When did you meet Matthew Murdock?" Vanessa asked. Her eyes had yet to break away from the artwork.

Ruth sighed. She had considered the possibility that Vanessa might grill her on her relationship with Matt, but she figured she somehow knew. Why else would she single out Ruth? "High school."

"I thought so." Vanessa walked over to another painting, adjusting the title card on the wall. Ruth distantly wondered why nobody was here to peruse—had she not just performed at the grand opening Saturday? "You told him about our arrangement, I'm sure."

Ruth's stomach twisted. "Uh—"

Vanessa smiled. "That's all right. It was to be expected. In fact, I hoped you would tell him."

"Listen, Vanessa, I—"

"Where does he live?"

"I'm not telling you that." Ruth said, shocked it even came out of her mouth. Vanessa finally looked at her. "I think. . . I can't do this. I don't even know exactly what you want from me out of this, but I refuse to be a part of it."

"You say that as if you have a choice." Vanessa replied, laughing. She stepped closer to Ruth. Ruth didn't step back.

"Well, I do, don't I? It's do what you say, or get killed. So go ahead." Ruth said, wondering if her Lexapro had been laced with something that morning to be making her this confident.

"And kill you?"

"Yes. Your goal is obviously to end up in prison like your boyfriend, is it not?" Jesus, Ruth, shut up already.

Vanessa's eyes went dark, and for a moment Ruth thought she might beat the shit out of her. "I can make you the best Classical singer in New York." Vanessa said, voice low. "I can make you rich. I can give you something to brag about to your pathetic colleagues." She took another step towards Ruth. "You don't have to tell me anything about Matthew Murdock today, but trust that you are not getting out of this contract."

"I don't want your money." Ruth said, mouth dry.

"Your sister might."

The world around Ruth seemed to dip for a moment as her heart stuttered. "What does that mean?"

At that moment, the door squeaked open and the sound of the traffic on the road filled the room. Vanessa elected not to answer Ruth, instead greeting the stranger by the door. Ruth unthinkingly booked it out of the gallery, wanting nothing more than to have her old life back. Ruth's mind fogged with panic as she made her way back to her apartment, only briefly considering calling her sister.


Ruth woke up to her phone ringing at three in the morning.

" Hi, may I speak to Ruth McGrath?"

Ruth rubbed at her eyes, begging the universe to let her go back to sleep. "Uh- Speaking."

"Hi, I'm calling from St. Michael's Hospital on behalf of your sister, Nelly French. She's been in an auto accident. She's alive, and stable. More information can be provided upon arrival to the hos—"


Summer, Senior Year of High School:

Matt agreed to join Ruth's family on vacation. He'd informed Ruth that he hadn't been to the beach since before his accident, and Ruth was determined to give him a fun, positive memory to add to his childhood trips before the pair went off to college. The evening they arrived at their destination, Ruth dragged Matt to the beach before they could even set their bags down in the small, rented house.

"Do you. . ." Ruth stopped herself as they set foot on the sand. Matt made a face at the grainy, itchy feeling of the substance. He took another step regardless, pulling her along despite holding onto her for guidance. Ruth cleared her throat, awkwardly attempting to ask again. "Do you remember. . ." She trailed off again, this time wondering if maybe it would cross a line.

"Do I remember what the beach looks like?" He asked, a teasing smile gracing his features. "There's the sand, and the ocean. Old men in bathing suits."

"And the sunsets?" Ruth asked, her voice suddenly very small. The pair rarely talked about these things—the luxuries of sight. Ruth began to feel guilty for burning with such sudden curiosity.

"I. . ." Matt pondered for a moment, hand flexing around the crook of Ruth's elbow. "I guess so. I mean, I can imagine it."

Ruth nodded silently, knowing he'd know if she did. They stepped farther down the sand, slowly. Ruth was about to speak up and ask what the sand felt like to him, but he beat her to it, his voice soft. "What does this sunset look like?"

Oh . An unidentifiable feeling buzzed through Ruth's chest. "It's. . .it's gorgeous." Ruth said. "The sky is mostly blue and orange, but right now the sun is still pretty yellow. And there's some pink. And it's reflecting onto the water, which looks dark blue. Oh and there's like—" Ruth stopped, frustrated with her poor explanation. She reached for his hand, extending his fingers so she could trace on his palm. She closed her bad eye. "So say this is where the water meets the sky," She said, tracing a line in the middle of his palm. "The sun is here. It's like a perfect circle, and it's white in the middle and yellow around the rim." She traced a small circle in the middle of his palm. "There are some clouds that are just like, long, fluffy puffs in the sky." She traced another line down the middle, underneath the sun. "This is all orange, with a hint of pink. And above it is still kind of blue. And the reflection in the water is a path like this." She traced a vertical line starting from his knuckle. "And there you have it, the sunset." She let go of his hand, about to get another look at the sunset for herself, when Matt reached for her face. Both hands gently searched her cheeks, so lightly she laughed at how it tickled. "My face is not the sunset."

"I want to know what your smile looks like right now." He said, as if it were obvious. Her heart flipped in a way she didn't quite recognize.

Ruth tried to stop her face from getting red, knowing he'd be able to feel it. "I just described the prettiest sunset ever, and you wanna know what shape my mouth is in?"

Matt laughed and raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply. He had yet to move. One hand slid down to Ruth's shoulder, thumb gliding over the strap of her bathing suit that was sticking out of her tee shirt. Ruth's heart rate quickened, for reasons Ruth could only identify as panic. "Let's see what the water's like." She said quickly, breaking away from Matt's touch and tugging at his wrist. She would choose not to question why he was doing that. And she would choose not to acknowledge that it gave her butterflies.


Present Day:

Ruth begged her next-door neighbor to let her use his car. Under any other circumstance, Ruth would avoid waking up a middle-aged man in the middle of the night at all costs. But that night she very unapologetically banged on his door until he answered. Her entire body trembled as she forced the keys into the ignition and took off towards St. Michael's. The drive was about an hour, even with Ruth flying several miles per hour over the speed limit. Ruth did not drive frequently, and when she did she drove slowly, and she had to bring herself back to reality several times to remind herself that she'd end up like her sister if she didn't slow the fuck down.

Ruth scrambled up to the ICU, tearing through tired family members wandering around the waiting area. She made it to the desk, breathless and shaky. "I'm Nelly French's sister, Ruth McGrath."

The clerk looked the antithesis of Ruth. Calm, collected, and bored. "Okay, have a seat. A doctor will be out in a moment to speak with you."

Ruth thought twice about blowing up at the innocent clerk, demanding she be told immediately what the hell was going on, but she knew that would be uncalled for. She sat down in one of the cold, cushioned chairs and attempted to steady her nerves. She glanced down at the side table next to her seat. A stack of prayer cards were placed there. St. Michael's figure was floating above a battle, wings spread and sword at the ready. The words of the prayer sent icy rage swimming through Ruth's bloodstream.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.

Yeah, where was that flying asshole when she needed him? Now she was forced to turn to the Devil himself to get her out of the mess with Vanessa. She should've called him after Vanessa mentioned her sister. She could've prevented whatever accident Vanessa had clearly caused. But she couldn't even think about that right now. Because the possibility of being at fault for whatever happened to her sister tonight would certainly be the end of it for Ruth.

"Ruth McGrath?" Called a voice behind her. She shot up and out of her seat, swinging around to face the scrub-clad doctor in front of her. "Hi, I'm Dr. Peterson. I'm overseeing Nelly's treatment."

"What happened?" Ruth asked, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

"Your sister and her husband were in a car accident." Yeah, no shit . "Your sister is alive, but her injuries are severe. She's broken several bones and we're waiting to hear from radiology to assess if—"

"Auntie?"

The doctor fell mute on Ruth's ears as she turned toward the newest voice in the room. Ruth's brother-in-law's mother—Beth— was standing there with none other than Ruth's ten-year-old niece, Louisa. In a heartbeat, Ruth had crossed the room, scooping the girl into her arms and holding her tightly.

"Oh, thank God." Ruth said into Louisa's shoulder, tears welling in her eyes. Louisa sniffled and trembled in Ruth's arms. "It's okay, Lou. It's going to be okay. I know it's scary." Was it okay? Yeah, definitely not. But Ruth's instinct as an aunt was always to downplay the situation.

Ruth stepped back, wiping the tears from Louisa's face. Louisa's grandmother was now speaking to the doctor in a hushed tone, face grim. Beth gave one last nod, and the doctor left the waiting area. She came back over to Ruth and Louisa. "Roo, honey. I'm not going to be able to watch Louisa during the week."

"What did the doctor say?" Ruth asked, Beth's statement not quite resonating with her at the moment.

Beth sighed, lips pursed. "They're going to be here for a while."

"Can we at least see them?"

"They aren't awake."

Ruth rubbed at her eye, trying not to let any panic show in front of her niece. "Okay." She muttered, breathing deeply.

"Listen, Roo, I need you to take Louisa during the week. I can take her on weekends, but with my job I won't be able to get her to school." Beth said, and quickly all of the stereotypical contempt Nelly had for her mother-in-law came flooding into view.

It wasn't like Ruth had to work or anything. And it wasn't like Louisa went to school on the other side of the city, or anything . But Ruth—as is well established by now—did not argue with authority figures. "Um, okay. I can take her." She said, looking down at her niece, who was staring sleepily at the nurses shuffling through the adjacent hallway. Goddammit. Ruth would do anything for her niece, but she knew for a fact that Beth French did not have the girlfriend of a crime lord controlling every aspect of her life.

Or maybe she did. Who knows, maybe everybody encountered this kind of stumbling block at some point in their formerly boring, normal, uneventful, perfect lives.

An unknown number had called Ruth's phone numerous times that night—or, well, morning, considering it was just past 5:00 a.m. when Ruth and Louisa headed back to Hell's Kitchen. There was no chance in hell she'd answer the call. It was presumably Vanessa, and she was not going to acknowledge that the woman existed at all with Louisa around.

Ruth decided she'd call in late to work in order to let Louisa sleep a couple hours before getting her to school on time (as opposed to dropping her off early in order for Ruth to get to her school on time.) Ruth wrote a lengthy note for Louisa's teacher in hopes that she'd be able to talk to the school psychologist while everything was going on. She couldn't even fathom how horrible, traumatizing, and earth-shattering this situation was for her niece. And the possibility that Vanessa had anything to do with it gnawed at Ruth's organs like a parasite.

Ruth jumped in the shower after ensuring Louisa was dressed and eating her breakfast. She turned the handle above the faucet until the water felt like it might singe her skin. She scrubbed harshly in an attempt to wash away her iniquities. Cleanse herself of her sins. She yelped when a knock came from the bathroom door.

"Auntie?" Louisa called over the sound of the showerhead. "I think Voldemort is at the door."

Ruth laughed in disbelief. "You're joking!" She exclaimed. "You can open the door and tell him I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay." Louisa replied, skipping back to the door. Louisa had met Matt Murdock numerous times as a toddler—she was four years old the last time she saw him. She was just old enough to comprehend that Ruth and Nelly had taken to referring to him as Voldemort, because—for a long time—Ruth couldn't even bear to say his name. Louisa cracked the door open. "Hello, Voldemort. Auntie Roo will be out of the shower in a minute."

Matt tilted his head, a grin on his face. "Lou? Is that you?"

Louisa crossed her arms, nose up in the air. "Yes. What business do you have here so early in the morning?"

Matt laughed, although Louisa was being deadly serious, "I just came to check on your Aunt Roo— Ruth. You should go finish your cereal."

Louisa scrunched up her face. "You don't know that it's cereal. . ."

"Mm, I think I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't. "

"Yes, I—"

"Please tell me you aren't arguing with a ten year old right now." Ruth begged as she reached the front door. "Go finish your Cheerios, Lou." Ruth instructed, to which Louisa grumbled and stomped away. She turned back to Matt. "What are you doing here?"

"I tried calling you. You weren't here last night." He answered matter-of-factly.

"And you know that how ?" Ruth replied, feeling insecure.

"I thought Vanessa had done something." He said lowly and sincerely. Ruth's stomach flipped.

Ruth sighed. "She did. Just not to me."

"What does that mean?"

"Can we discuss this after?"

"Was it your sister? Is that why Lou is—sorry, can you please put your hair up or something? The dripping is driving me insane."

Ruth scoffed. "What?"

"Just—" Matt grumbled and stepped forward into the apartment, leaning his cane against the door and taking Ruth's soaked hair in his hands, holding it to the side of her head. Ruth gawked at the gesture, not having the time or patience to deal with his antics. She was about to ask again to postpone the conversation when he tilted his head suddenly, one hand moving to her neck. Ruth instinctively stepped away from the touch, forcing herself not to push him back. "Your skin feels like it's on fire."

"The pipes are broken so all that comes out is scalding water." Ruth said immediately, forgetting briefly with whom she was talking. "I need to get Louisa to school. Can we talk about this later?"

"You wanted me to help you."

"Yes, and I appreciate that. Right now, I need to get Lou to school." Ruth repeated, taking his cane from the doorway and shoving it into his free hand. "Have a good day."

"Ruth. . ." He scolded as she nudged him towards the door. He sighed. "Just be careful. Please."

"I will. I am."

But was she? If she'd ever been careful, none of this would be happening—including Matt even being in her life at this point. She watched as he walked back down the hall, desperately ignoring the strange but all-too-familiar fluttering behind her ribcage. God, she was so fucked.