Sarah wasn't sure what she had expected when she agreed to meet Karen in the small, brightly lit noodle house. That they would spill all of their secrets over bowls of pho, bonded by their strange encounter at the post office?
Instead, they sat across from each other, a slightly sticky table top between them, and made stilted small talk while the tension of the conversation they had actually come there to have sat heavily at the table like a third person. It wasn't until after the employee behind the counter had already called out their order and they'd brought their food back to the table that the conversation began to shift.
Sarah pushed her hair behind her ear before she began eating, forgetting that doing so would reveal the bruise on her face. It had slowly started to fade from a bright reddish purple to a sickly looking green color.
"That looks painful," Karen noted, gesturing towards Sarah's temple with her chopsticks. To Sarah's relief, there was no follow-up question about how she got it.
"Not so much at this point," she said with a shrug. "It's fading."
They were quiet for a few moments as Sarah tried to figure out if she was supposed to follow this thread towards more serious subjects or continue to let the small talk linger. Luckily, she didn't have to decide.
"Last time we met, you said that you thought maybe you could help me," Karen said, watching her closely. Her eyes were a startlingly bright blue; they made Sarah feel oddly transparent.
"Yeah."
"What makes you think I need help?" she asked, her tone more curious than defensive.
Sarah let her gaze drift to the bright paintings on the wall as she thought about it. What had made her think Karen needed help? To be honest, she thought she had recognized something similar to herself in Karen the day they met: a rattled sort of loneliness that she often felt herself. But saying something like that would make her sound like a lunatic, which wasn't the image she needed to be broadcasting to someone who had seen her drop several photos of dead bodies all over the post office floor.
"You seemed nice," she said truthfully. "And I don't know a lot of nice people who don't need help after meeting James Wesley."
She watched Karen closely as she spoke to gauge her reaction to hearing the name. Sure enough, something dark flickered across her face, but Sarah couldn't quite place what it was.
Karen was silent for a minute as she leaned back in her chair and stared down at her food contemplatively, pushing her long blonde hair behind her shoulder.
"You're not a cop, as far as I can tell," Karen said suddenly, an apparent non-sequitur. "I Googled you."
Sarah blinked in surprise—first at the idea that anyone would think she was a cop, and then at the fact that Karen had been able to look her up.
"I…don't think I ever told you my last name," Sarah said slowly.
"You didn't. I saw it on your employee badge when you dropped your purse and your stuff spilled out. You work for Orion."
There goes any hope of keeping my workplace a secret, she thought. She'd been hoping not to reveal too much about her life to Karen until she had figured out more about her, but it seemed as though Karen was a few steps ahead of her. There was no point in lying about it now, anyway.
"Yeah. I'm…a secretary there." Though she wasn't really a secretary anymore, was she? She didn't really know what her title was anymore. Personal assistant? Body hider? Secretary seemed like a safe, non-suspicious sounding job title to give. "Are you a reporter, or something?" she asked nervously, put on edge by Karen's knowledge of her life. She didn't need this to become the second time in one week she inadvertently started talking to a reporter without knowing it.
A wry grin flashed across Karen's face at the question. "Uh, no. Although you're definitely not the first person to think that. I just like to know things. Like…the fact that Orion used to be owned by Wilson Fisk."
She brought up Fisk with so much nonchalance that it was painfully obvious she wanted to know more.
"It was," Sarah said vaguely. "Probably half of the business in Hell's Kitchen were owned by Fisk at some point."
"Is that how you knew Wesley?"
"Yeah. He…hired me, if you want to call it that," Sarah said bitterly. Blackmailed would be a better word for it.
Karen leaned forward on her forearms, keeping her voice low despite the fact that their conversation was already camouflaged by the sounds of the nearby kitchen.
"Why did you have that photo of him?" she asked, caught somewhere between fascination and confusion.
Karen wasn't afraid to ask questions bluntly, that was for certain. Oddly, Sarah appreciated it, despite the slightly accusatory tone behind her words. The blonde woman was cautious and guarded, but she was being straightforward about what she wanted to know.
"Someone…gave it to me," Sarah replied. It wasn't a lie. "To—to make a point about something. Why did it bother you so much?"
"I just want to know why someone who works for one of Fisk's companies just happened to run into me while carrying around James Wesley's crime scene photos. Just a coincidence?"
Her odd wording caught Sarah's attention.
"You make it sound like there's a reason it wouldn't be," she noted carefully, but Karen just wet her lips and looked away, obviously not planning to elaborate. Sarah really didn't want her to bail on the conversation, so with a sigh she looked back down at her noodles as she twirled them around her fork. "So…did you find anything interesting? When you Googled me? I've never really checked out my internet presence."
Karen shook her head.
"Not a lot. Some YouTube videos of you playing the piano," she said. Sarah had forgotten that some of the recordings of her rehearsals and accompaniments had been posted online. Karen offered her a hesitant smile. "You're really good."
Sarah's heart twisted a little. It was a compliment she used to receive all the time, to the point where it had almost stopped meaning anything. Now it had been so long since anyone had heard her play that it felt strange and alien to hear someone's opinion on it.
"Thank you. I, um…I don't play anymore, though."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Karen said, and maybe Sarah was reading too much into a stranger's tone, but it sounded like she genuinely meant it.
"It's okay. It happens."
For some reason, the subject of Sarah's piano playing seemed to calm some of the suspicion that had crept into Karen's tone earlier. Maybe it was just the reminder that Sarah existed outside of her role at Orion. When she spoke again it was with a tentative openness.
"When I told you that I used to work for a big company and I hated it?" Karen prompted. "That was one of Wilson Fisk's companies, too. Union Allied Construction."
Sarah's eyebrows went up in surprise. Karen had implied that she'd worked for a company similar to Orion, but Sarah hadn't expected it to be that similar. "What did you do there?"
"I was secretary, too. You can get into a lot of trouble as a secretary, it turns out," Karen said, running her hand through her hair.
"How did you leave?" Sarah asked.
"Not on good terms," she said darkly.
"No," Sarah said, shaking her head and leaning forward. "I mean…how did you leave? They just…let you quit?"
Karen frowned, looking at her intently. "Is that…not an option for you?"
"Not really," Sarah said, trying to pick her words carefully. "The…job offer that Wesley gave me didn't exactly include an unemployment package."
The other woman was quiet for a beat as Sarah looked down at her bowl and stirred the noodles around as she thought about the night Wesley had shown up at her door. It seemed like a long time ago now.
"Who did he threaten?"
Sarah looked up in surprise.
"My family," Sarah said slowly. Then, taking a chance, she asked, "You?"
Karen's mouth twisted into a sympathetic frown before she answered. "Same."
It felt so strange to talk to a relative stranger like this; dancing around the details and specifics, but being so sure that she understood on some level anyway.
"Wesley liked having people under his thumb," Sarah said, reaching for her water glass. "So he could play mind games with them."
"Yeah, well, that kind of shit how you end up getting shot with your own gun," Karen said darkly, almost speaking more to herself than to Sarah.
Sarah's hand stilled over the glass and she glanced up at Karen, who was stirring the food in her bowl around with that same haunted expression she had worn in the post office that day. In the days after Wesley's murder, the details of his death had circulated around Orion over and over again, to the point where Sarah was very familiar with them. Everyone knew that he'd been found in an abandoned office building, that there were seven bullets lodged in his chest, that Fisk had been so outraged at his death that he'd beaten a member of his security team half to death afterwards. Up until Wilson Fisk himself had been arrested, the gruesome details of James Wesley's death were all anyone at work had talked about.
But no one had ever mentioned anything about it being his own gun that killed him.
Karen didn't seem to notice her slip, and Sarah resisted pushing the subject, not wanting to scare her off. Seeming to snap back from wherever she had drifted to, Karen's eyes met Sarah's once again, the troubled look pushed to the back once more.
"Hey, do they sell booze here?" she asked.
Sarah exhaled a small laugh; it was exactly what she would usually ask during a conversation like this one. "Yeah, they have some pretty good beer on tap."
"Great," Karen said as she slipped out of her seat. "I'm going to go check that out. Do you want one?"
It was tempting. Very tempting. Normally Sarah would have agreed automatically, but tonight she just sighed and reluctantly reached for her water.
"I…can't. Thanks, though."
"Alright," Karen said, frowning curiously. "I'll be right back."
As Sarah waited for Karen to order her drink, she idly traced the faded scars on her palm. It was a nervous habit she had developed, and one that she would probably keep, given that the scars appeared to be permanent. She looked up as Karen slid back into her seat, a glass of amber liquid in her hand.
"Why did you wait so long to call me?" Sarah asked her.
Karen took a deep breath, stalling for a moment before answering. "Well…I was watching the news today and I saw that there's a police officer missing."
Sarah stilled. "You mean Aaron McDermott."
"You know him?"
"No," Sarah said quickly, then cleared her throat and spoke more evenly. "I mean, I just—I saw the news, too. Um, why…would that make you call me?"
"He was the police officer in charge of Wesley's murder case," Karen said. "I guess it made me think of you…just with the timing and all."
There was nothing accusatory about her careful tone, but Sarah felt a twinge of panic in her chest anyway as she thought about what connections Karen might have made in her mind.
It made sense that McDermott would have gotten assigned Wesley's case; Fisk wouldn't want any actual, honest cops looking into it and stumbling across things they shouldn't. But a dirty cop like McDermott would only look exactly where he was supposed to. Did that mean that Donovan was now in charge of the case, or had it fallen between the cracks now that it had been so long?
"This place is really good," Sarah said abruptly, hoping to change the subject. It was painfully transparent, but then again, so was this whole conversation.
Karen looked disappointed, but didn't protest. "Oh. Uh, yeah…I've come here a few times since you suggested it. I like it."
"Did your bosses end up liking it? The picky eaters?"
"Yeah, they did," Karen said with a soft laugh. "Well, really Matt is the only picky one. Foggy will eat just about anything."
Sarah blinked, staring at the woman across the table.
"…what?"
Karen looked up in confusion, still chewing on her food, then shook her head and held up a finger while she swallowed. "Oh, sorry. My friends, Matt and Foggy. The two lawyers I work for."
Sarah felt like she had been dunked in ice water as she put two and two together. This was Karen. The same Karen who spoke a little bit of Spanish and liked cheesy soap operas. Karen who Foggy was very clearly in love with, and who Matt would absolutely not be happy about her meeting up with without his knowledge.
Did Karen know about Matt being Daredevil? Foggy was obviously in on the secret, and so was Claire. But the fact that Matt had never talked about her beyond a passing mention—much less ever involved her in anything to do with Sarah—made Sarah think she probably didn't know. Meaning Matt was probably intentionally keeping her away from that side of his life, and here Sarah was bringing her into it. And it was becoming more and more clear that Karen obviously had a side of her life that she wasn't bringing Matt into either.
Would Karen have called her to have this vague, tense conversation if she had known that Sarah knew her friends and coworkers, that she didn't actually hold the mysterious stranger status that Karen thought she did? The idea of letting Karen confide in her without Sarah being completely honest with her about who she was felt deceitful.
"I think I need to go," Sarah said suddenly. "I…just remembered that I'm really tired."
"Oh," Karen said, slightly taken aback, but nodding. "Okay. Uh, let me just get us some takeaway boxes."
As Karen slid out of her seat to go grab the boxes, Sarah found herself wondering how it was possible that Hell's Kitchen could be so small.
Karen lived in the opposite direction from Sarah, and they parted ways outside the restaurant. Sarah tried to be as friendly as possible during their goodbyes, but her head was spinning with the new information of who Karen was. She knew she should call Matt and tell him now, before this whole thing blew up in her face. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she blinked when she hit the home button and an unfamiliar background lit up the screen.
She groaned out loud as she realized that she had taken the wrong phone with her. Karen had the same model as her, and they both had plain black cases; it was easy to mix them up when they were both sitting on top of the table like they had been. Ignoring the exhaustion that weighed down her limbs, Sarah turned around to catch up with Karen, who could have only gone about a block in the few minutes since they'd separated.
Sarah used Karen's phone to dial her own number as she backtracked, hoping she would answer and be able to meet her halfway. To her surprise, she heard her own familiar ringtone echoing around in a parking garage a few yards away. Warily, she stepped over the concrete barrier that separated the garage from the sidewalk, pepper spray in hand as she quietly moved towards where she'd heard the sound. She could hear something else—a scuffling noise, and what sounded like muffled voices—as she rounded the corner.
Sarah swore under her breath as she saw Karen about twenty feet away, struggling with a man who Sarah immediately recognized as Officer Donovan. She broke into a run, dropping her takeaway box and her purse as she went.
As she got closer, she could see that Karen was putting up a good fight, though Donovan was significantly larger than her. He repeatedly tried to cover her mouth, and his hand was bloody from where Karen had dragged her nails across his skin. His other hand was holding a pair of handcuffs, which he was trying to get onto Karen's wrists, but she was struggling too fiercely for him to be able to get a good grip. With a frustrated growl, he slammed her into the side of a car they were parked next to, and even from several feet away Sarah could hear an ugly crunching noise as Karen's arm bent in away that it shouldn't.
Sarah hadn't really thought about what she would do when she actually reached the two of them, but luckily for her, her body seemed to react while her brain was still processing. From behind Donovan, she blindly grabbed his face, yanking his head back as he let out a surprised yell as he lost his grip on Karen's arm. Sarah immediately felt blood under her fingernails, and as he swung around she could clearly see several deep gouges near the corners of his mouth.
It took Donovan a split second to get over the surprise of a second person being there, during which Sarah—almost feeling like she was on autopilot—jerked up her hand that held the pepper spray and pressed the bright red button on top. A stream of bright orange liquid shot out of the container and directly into his eyes. Behind him, she could see Karen scrambling for something in her purse.
Donovan swore loudly, clawing blindly in the direction of Sarah, who hadn't yet backed out of his reach. His hands probably would have successfully found her throat, but a second before he made contact a loud crackling noise filled the air; a sound that Sarah was familiar with. It was the noise of several thousand volts of electricity being sent through a human body—and sure enough, Sarah caught sight of Karen standing behind Donovan, one arm held close to her body at an odd angle while with her other hand she was pressing a small stun gun against the back of his neck.
The electrical current made the officer's muscles spasm, and he reeled back uncontrollably, smashing into same car he had just bashed Karen's arm against. His head cracked loudly against the glass window of the car, nearly shattering it, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.
The two women stood motionless for a beat, both breathing heavily and holding their respective weapons as they stared at the unconscious man on the ground.
Snapping out of it, Sarah knelt down next to the officer and pressed her fingers to his throat, relieved to find a pulse steadily beating in the spot where his partner's had been silent. She quickly reached over him for the handcuffs he had been holding, which had scattered a short distance across the ground when he'd dropped them. Looking around for anything close enough that she wouldn't have to try to move him, Sarah eyed the stop sign that was about two feet away. She quickly secured one handcuff around the pole of the sign and the other one around Donovan's wrist.
Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, she felt both his smart phone and small, plastic burner phone—as she'd been expecting. She took both of them out of his pocket, turning each one off and throwing them a good distance away, where Donovan couldn't reach them to call out and Ronan couldn't use them to track him.
Then she turned back to Karen, who was standing a few feet away, watching her while holding her arm at an awkward angle.
"Holy shit. Are you okay?" she said, still panting from her sprint across the parking garage.
"Yeah, I—" Karen hissed in pain, inhaling sharply through her teeth. "My—my arm. Something's broken, I think," Karen said, also sounding out of breath.
Sarah winced; it looked like Karen was right. "Okay, let's…let's get you out of here."
But when she tried to gently tug Karen along, the other woman didn't move, unable to take her eyes off of Donovan.
"Karen?"
"He's a police officer," Karen said in disbelief, her eyes glued to the now-visible badge on Donovan's belt.
"Yeah."
"Holy shit," Karen whispered, her eyes wild in a way they hadn't been before. "They know. How…how do they know?"
Sarah didn't understand right away. Then her eyes widened as she realized that Karen thought Donovan had been coming after her for something she had done. What reason would she have to think that there would be people after her, much less the police?
The haunted look that Wesley's photo had brought to Karen's eyes flashed across Sarah's mind.
She knew that she should tell Karen it wasn't her fault, that Donovan had been after her because of Sarah. It wasn't right to let her panic like this, to let her think she was the target here. But that would open the door to an entire conversation that she couldn't have; especially if Karen already suspected some sort of connection between Sarah and McDermott. Telling her that his partner was after her wouldn't help matters at all.
So instead she just cautiously took Karen's uninjured arm, pulling her away from the unconscious police officer she was still staring at.
"Come—come on," Sarah said. "We should go before he wakes up."
"Wait," Karen said, despite the way the color in her face was rapidly draining. "Just—hang on."
She quickly knelt down next to Donovan, reaching for the badge clipped to his belt. Flipping the small leather holder open, her eyes scanned the name and precinct listed there—both of which Sarah already knew, and would rather Karen didn't, but it was too late now.
"Connor Donovan," Karen said under her breath, the repeated it again as though she were memorizing it. Sarah waited to see if she would mention what she was planning to do with that information, but instead she just threw the badge down and stood up. "You're right. We should go."
Although Karen insisted that Sarah didn't need to stick around in the hospital waiting room, there was no way her conscious would allow her to leave—as much as the headache splitting her head open was encouraging her to. There were a lot of things she wanted to talk to Karen about, but nothing she could bring up in a waiting room full of strangers. So the two of them sat in the waiting room, not speaking. It always amazed Sarah how people had to just sit in ER waiting rooms, ignoring their broken bones and bleeding head wounds and who knows what else, until it was their turn to get checked out.
Karen was still on edge from the attack, and clearly in pain. She spent most of the wait staring at the linoleum floor, lost in her own thoughts. Sarah was too restless to sit and do nothing, so she selected a magazine from the stack that sat on the small side table next to them. She picked out a maternity magazine and she tried scanning a few articles for anything interesting to tell Lauren. But she was still having difficulty with focusing on things like small print, and after a while she just looked blankly at the pictures, oblivious to the curious look Karen gave the magazine.
Eventually, a nurse stepped into the waiting room and called Karen's name.
"Karen Page?"
"That's me," Karen said, standing up from the chair and cradling her arm at her side. Her face was tinged a slightly green color.
Sarah still wanted to speak with Karen privately, but figured she probably wouldn't want her around while the doctors were taking x-rays and whatnot.
"Um, I'm going to go find some coffee," Sarah told her as she stood up as well. "I'll come find you in a bit and bring you some?"
Karen just nodded distractedly as she followed the nurse down the hall and into a room off to the right.
Down in the hospital cafeteria, Sarah managed to procure two cups of very weak, lukewarm coffee. She sat alone at one of the small tables and absently stared down at the gray sheen that floated on top of the dark liquid. How was it that such a sterile environment served coffee that looked like it might kill you?
She should really call Matt now. She knew that. His friend was in the hospital because of her and he deserved to know. She even brought up his contact on her phone, hovering over the 'Call' button. But she couldn't bring herself to press it. How would he react to this? From the start, his friends had been a touchy subject with him. So the idea of her meeting up with one of them behind his back—and then getting her attacked and landing her in the hospital, no less? Didn't seem like it would go over very well.
Even if she could explain that, Sarah didn't know what to do about Karen's obvious and alarming link to James Wesley. Was she imagining it? Had she been spending so much time around people like Jason that she was seeing suspicion and darkness were there wasn't any? After all, Wesley had made a career out of associating with people who would all kill him at the drop of a hat; someone like Karen should be at the very bottom of that list. But Karen had known things about his death that even the higher-ups at Fisk's own company didn't know. And she almost seemed like she had been expecting an attack like Donovan's—dreading it, even. And what reason would she have for keeping such close tabs on Wesley's murder unless she had something to do with it? But more than any of that, Sarah had recognized the haunted look on Karen's face whenever Wesley's name came up; it was the same expression Sarah kept seeing in the mirror since McDermott's death.
But she couldn't tell Matt that; she couldn't just accuse his friend of something so awful with no proof. And with anyone else, she would just keep her mouth shut. But Matt could always tell when she was keeping something from him; he'd be hurt if he could tell she was lying again, and he'd be pissed if she told him the truth. There was no way to win. She didn't want to hurt Matt, and she didn't want to hurt Karen, who, despite her secretiveness, seemed like a good person. If there was anyone who understood getting pulled into ethically questionable situations, it was Sarah.
Sarah moved her finger away from the 'Call' button and pocketed her phone. Karen was getting medical attention, and she was in no immediate danger from Donovan. It was lucky in a way that this had been Sarah's first time meeting up with Karen; if she didn't know things like Karen's address, it meant Donovan didn't either. Sarah would think about this after she'd gotten some sleep, when it didn't feel impossible to string more than two thoughts together in her mind. Glancing at the clock, she figured she'd probably given Karen a decent amount of time, and she made her way back upstairs.
When she got to Karen's room, she was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with her arm in a sling and a cast from her wrist to her elbow. Sarah handed her the coffee and Karen accepted it with her non-injured arm.
"Thanks," she said. "I'm just waiting for them to come back with the paperwork I need."
"I'm really sorry about your arm."
"It's not your fault," Karen said darkly, and Sarah's insides twisted guiltily. Yes it is. "I guess it's lucky that you turned back around to come find me."
"You seemed to be doing alright on your own," Sarah noted, remembering how furiously Karen had been fighting Donovan off when she'd arrived. "I'd guess it's not your first time…having someone try to hurt you."
"No," Karen said, shaking her head as she watched Sarah intently. "Not yours, either."
"No," Sarah agreed softly. She cleared her throat, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ear. "Um…but I—I'd try not to…dwell too much on what happened. You know?"
She knew how dumb that sounded even before Karen laughed.
"Don't dwell on the fact that a police officer just tried to kidnap me? Yeah, okay."
"No, I just mean…you know how the cops in Hell's Kitchen are. Half of them are corrupt. You don't know that this was really anything to do with you…personally," Sarah said weakly. It was the best she could come up with right now without admitting anything on her part.
After a pause, Karen nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. No reason to believe that it was about anything I did," she agreed, sounding just as unconvincing as Sarah just had.
The sickly feeling that had been sitting low in her stomach for the past few days grew stronger.
"Are you alright?" Karen asked, looking at her strangely. "You don't look so great."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm just…feeling a little nauseous," Sarah said, waving her hand dismissively. She didn't mention that her head was splitting open, and that every cell in her body was screaming for her to drown tonight in a bottle of liquor. Was this really what being sober felt like? She didn't remember it being so painful.
Karen was watching Sarah closely, as though she were solving a puzzle. "Oh. Right."
"So, do you want me to call you a cab home when you're done, or…?"
"Oh, no, I'm fine. Foggy called a while ago, when you were getting coffee," Karen said, oblivious to the way Sarah's stomach jolted at her words. This situation was not going to endear her to Foggy. But at least it was him and not Matt. Karen continued, "I told him where I was and he insisted on coming down. He said he was just waiting for Matt to meet up with him and then they were both coming."
Dammit.
"Sorry, they're…they're coming here right now?" Sarah clarified, trying and failing to sound casual.
"I told them they didn't need to. I mean, it's not like this is a life-threatening injury. But that's Matt and Foggy for you," Karen said, sounding exasperated in that way that people generally did when they talked about family. The same way Matt and Foggy talked about each other.
Sarah wasn't ready for that. Now right now, when her whole body hurt and her emotions felt oddly like they were on hyper drive—whether from the concussion or the lack of any alcohol to numb them, she wasn't sure.
"Listen, when Matt and Foggy get here…please don't tell them," Karen said lowly. "About what happened tonight, or…what we were talking about."
"What we were…? Karen, I barely even understand what we talked about," Sarah said, shaking her head. "Why—why don't you want them to know?"
"I just—I don't want them to worry," Karen said. "They both worry about me too much. Especially Matt."
Sarah's insides twisted guiltily again.
"You know, actually, I think maybe I should go before Matt and Foggy get here," she said, standing up from the chair and quickly backing away from the bed in hopes of making a clean exit. "You guys, um…probably want some time to yourselves—"
She had only taken a few steps when she backed into something tall and solid, and a part of her already knew who it was before she even spun around.
Luckily for Matt, he had been very close to his own apartment when Foggy had called him on his burner phone, frantically rambling that Karen had been attacked and was hurt, and that they needed to get to the hospital. It had only taken him a few minutes to change out of his costume and into his normal clothes and dark glasses before meeting up with Foggy, who was already on his way there.
Now he gripped his cane tightly as he and Foggy made their way down the hospital hallway, trying to find the room Karen was in. Foggy said she had sounded fine when she'd called him, that she'd only said something vague about her arm being injured. But given her past propensity for close calls with death and danger, both Matt and Foggy were on edge over what might have actually happened. Matt in particular was grinding his teeth at the idea that he had been out tonight, patrolling, and yet he still hadn't been able to stop something bad from happening to one of the people he should be working the hardest to keep safe. If he couldn't protect his friends, what was he even doing?
"Dude, ow," Foggy whispered pointedly. "You've got my arm in a death vice."
"Sorry," Matt murmured, immediately loosening his hand from where it had unintentionally been digging into Foggy's guiding forearm.
"Goddammit, these room numbers don't make any sense," Foggy muttered in frustration. "If these are rooms 101C-104D then were does Hall E even start?"
Matt tuned Foggy's anxious voice out for a second, straining his hearing as he searched for a sign of where Karen was. It was difficult to pick anything out from the commotion—a man down the hall screaming at a nurse to get him more pain meds, a baby with a fever shrieking in the waiting room, a group of drunk college students explaining how their friend had knocked himself out doing a keg stand—but finally he caught a snatch of her voice between all the rest.
"—said he was just waiting for Matt and then they were both coming—"
"This way," he said, tugging Foggy towards a corridor off to the right.
"That's a good use for your bat hearing," Foggy said. "Navigation. Like a walking GPS, but better. And with a less annoying voice."
On the surface his banter sounded like it normally did, but Matt could hear the stress underneath. Foggy and Karen had been spending more and more time together the last few weeks, and Matt knew that for as hard as this was for him, it had to be even worse for Foggy.
As they got closer, he heard Karen again.
"Listen, when Matt and Foggy get here…please don't tell them," he heard her say, her voice low and nervous. "About what happened tonight, or…what we were talking about."
Matt frowned. Who was she talking to? What didn't she want them to know?
"Karen, I barely even understand what we talked about," someone replied. "Why—why don't you want them to know?"
He nearly stopped in his tracks as he recognized the other voice. Sarah. What was she doing here? That wasn't possible.
Just as Matt stepped through the door to the room, Foggy just behind him, Sarah was backing away from the bed. Her back was to the door, and she didn't see them standing there.
"Actually, I think maybe I should go before Matt and Foggy get here," she was saying, shouldering her purse. "You guys, um…probably want some time to yourselves—"
Sarah backed directly into Matt, letting out a short yelp of surprise when she made contact before spinning around to face him.
There was a short, tense pause.
"Sarah?" Foggy said, the surprise in his voice already mixing with suspicion.
"Foggy," Sarah said blankly, then her head turned slightly to look up at him. "Matt."
"Wait, you guys know each other?" Karen's voice came from the direction of the bed, drawing both of the men's attention her way.
"Karen. Are you alright?" Matt asked as Foggy skirted around him and took a seat on the edge of the bed. He could hear the rustle of a cast on her arm rubbing against the hospital sheets, along with a sling over her shoulder, and even from across the room he could sense the pain radiating off her as she held her arm at an odd angle.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Karen said insistently, though the tension underneath her voice was obvious. "My arm is broken, but it's not a bad break. They're just taking forever to come back with my discharge paperwork. Busy night in the ER, I guess. How do you—"
"What happened?" Foggy demanded worriedly, examining the sling on Karen's arm.
"I…slipped on the subway station stairs and took a little tumble," Karen said. Her heartbeat skipped immediately, but even without it Matt would have been able to tell she was lying. "I'm sorry, how exactly do you guys know each other?" she asked once again, looking from Sarah to the two lawyers.
Matt started nervously, trying to think of an explanation that didn't involve Orion or Daredevil.
There had been a few times—maybe more than a few—when Matt had considered the idea of introducing Sarah to Karen. They both played such a big part in his life, and he spent so much time with both of them; it felt strange to keep them separate. But introducing her to Karen was complicated; her not knowing about Daredevil meant anything involving the two of them would require lies and cover stories. And he didn't wanted to lie to Karen anymore. So he had never come up with a believable explanation for how he knew Sarah, thinking he wouldn't need one anytime soon.
"Um. Well, we—I, uh—" Sarah stammered.
"It's—we've met from over at…the…" Matt continued.
"Mrs. Benedict," Foggy interrupted, sounding entirely exasperated by their collective inability to come up with a cover story on the spot. "She lives down the hall from Sarah, so we've just crossed paths a few times."
Matt bit back a relieved sigh. If it weren't for Foggy and his knack for covering Matt's ass, his horrible lying skills would have outed him long ago.
"Oh," Karen said slowly. Her long hair brushed against the sling on her arm as she turned to look at Sarah, her body language full of more tension now. "You…didn't tell me that."
The room was silent—or, silent to everyone else, at least. To Matt, the sound of Sarah's heart hammering nervously was deafening. He tried to ignore the suspicion that tugged at the back of his mind as he waited for her to speak, giving her a chance to explain and hoping that whatever she said would help make this all seem less confusing and alarming.
Instead, she opened and closed her mouth for a few seconds, then simply shook her head, turned on her heel and strode towards the hospital door.
"Matt," Foggy began, but Matt already knew what he was going to say.
"I should give you and Foggy a few minutes alone," he interrupted, already heading towards the doorway to follow Sarah. "I'll be right back."
Matt caught up with her halfway down the corridor, just as she was about to turn the corner down a different hallway. He came up behind her and swiftly slipped his hand into the crook of her elbow as she reached an open doorway to an empty exam room, where he quickly pulled her inside. She didn't jump at his sudden appearance; it seemed as though she'd already figured out he would follow her.
Matt shut the door behind them before letting his hand fall from her arm, and the two of them stood facing each other in tense silence for a few moments. He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm as different questions raced around his head.
"Are you hurt, too?" he asked. He hadn't really intended for that to be the first question he asked, but it was almost instinctive at this point.
Sarah shook her head.
"No," she said softly. There was another long pause until Sarah, apparently unable to stand the silence, starting speaking quickly and disjointedly. "I swear I didn't know who she was, Matt. I mean, I knew her name was Karen but I didn't make the connection that she was your Karen, but then it was too late to explain to her that I knew you and I didn't know whether she already knew about you being Daredevil or not and I swear I would have told you and Foggy if I had known who she was and I didn't mean for her to get hurt—"
Maybe it was the lingering effects of her concussion, or maybe it was just Matt's lack of patience that night, but her rambling seemed to be making even less sense than usual. All he did understand was that Karen was still sitting in a hospital bed with a broken arm and Sarah was lying to him—again.
"Stop it," he interrupted her, harsher than he'd intended, and Sarah fell silent as quickly as if he'd yelled it. "Just—just stop talking for two seconds and let me figure out which questions I want you to answer first."
Sarah just nodded wordlessly. Matt wet his lips and began pacing around the small exam room as he tried to get his thoughts in order. Different questions were pushing their way to the front from all different directions, and he didn't even know where to begin. He could feel Sarah's eyes on him as he paced the room.
"What happened to Karen's arm?" he asked finally, before adding sharply, "Don't tell me she fell down the subway stairs."
Sarah hesitated for a second before answering. "McDermott's partner. Donovan. He, um…he was trying to take her somewhere. He said something about how he had someone who w-wanted to talk to her."
"Donovan was trying to take Karen?" he asked in disbelief. Sarah nodded. "Why? To get to you? Why wouldn't he just take you?"
"I don't know," she said. "I—we split up after dinner, but we had the wrong phones and so I went back to find her and he was there, and I don't know why he followed her and not me—"
She was getting ahead of things again, spouting off pieces of explanations without actually making anything clearer.
"Slow down," Matt ordered. "Tell me how you two know each other."
"We, um…we met at the post office."
A long silence followed her words.
"At the post office," Matt repeated flatly.
"Yeah," she said lamely, apparently realizing how ridiculous that sounded.
"How long ago?"
"A while back," she said. "Around the time you met Lauren."
"And you never thought to mention that to me?"
"I didn't realize she was your friend before she mentioned you at dinner. We hadn't spoken at all since the day we met. Until tonight."
"Until tonight, when you decided to meet up with her despite knowing that you're being watched," he pointed out. "Did you even care that you might be putting her in danger?"
"I thought it would be okay," she retorted forcefully, frustration creeping into her voice. "I've been meeting up with Lauren and going to my dad's a-and running errands for Jason every day, all out in public. And nothing has happened. I never meant for her to get hurt."
"Well, she did!" Matt exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time since they entered the room. He ground his teeth and took another deep breath, carefully regulating his voice before continuing.
"You say that you two barely know each other. But for some reason Donovan singled her out as someone who could be used against you as leverage. How does that make any sense?"
"I don't know."
"Why did Karen lie and say that she fell down the stairs?"
"I don't know," Sarah repeated, then at Matt's aggravated growl she quickly added, "She said she didn't want you guys to worry about her."
Matt struggled to figure out what was off about her voice, her heartbeat, her whole demeanor. It was like she was telling him the truth, but not all of it. That was her specialty, after all.
"You're lying. I just can't tell what you're lying about. You're leaving something out, and I don't know why," he said, not bothering to hide his frustration. "I don't get it, Sarah. I thought we were—" Matt stopped, pressing his lips together. I thought we were past this. "What were you guys even doing tonight?"
"We met up at a noodle house. To talk."
"Mhm," he murmured, rubbing his mouth agitatedly. "Talk about what?"
Sarah paused. "Our jobs."
"Your jobs?" Matt said, raising his eyebrows. "And somehow the names of the only two coworkers she has never came up?"
"Not that job. Her old one. At Union Allied."
Of course. The big thing that Sarah and Karen both had in common: two former secretaries for companies owned by Fisk. That and their infuriating knack for getting involved in dangerous situations by being simultaneously secretive and reckless.
"So that's what Karen was asking you not to tell me about?" he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. "That you guys…talked about your jobs?"
"You heard that?" she asked softly, to which he only raised his eyebrows. "I…Matt, I don't think this is something I should get involved in."
Matt barked out a short laugh of disbelief.
"You couldn't have decided not to get involved before Karen ended up in the hospital?"
He could sense the heat spreading across her skin as her face flushed, but she gave him no answer. Shaking his head, he started to leave.
"Matt, no—don't leave, I'm s—"
"Don't say that you're sorry when you won't even be honest with me about what's going on with you two."
He should have known this would happen, sooner or later. Sarah kept so many secrets from him—from everyone—that one of those secrets was bound to hurt someone he cared about. This was why he had kept her at arms length to begin with, he reminded himself.
"James Wesley," she blurted out as Matt reached for the door handle.
He stopped, turning his head back towards her. "What?"
Sarah hesitated, as though debating whether or not to elaborate. When she did continue, it was stilted, as though she were forcing the words out.
"Karen and I did meet up to talk about our jobs," she said slowly. "But…we were also there to talk about James Wesley."
Matt furrowed his brow as he let his hand slip from the doorknob, a sense of dread building in his stomach. Not only was something strange going on with Karen and Sarah, but now it involved Fisk, too. "James Wesley? Why?"
"She…" Sarah looked away, crossing her arms uncomfortably. "Karen knows things about his death that she shouldn't, Matt."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, tilting his head.
At the dangerous tone in his voice, Sarah's resolve seemed to waver, and she began to backtrack. "I don't…maybe Karen would be the—the better person to—"
"I'm not asking Karen," Matt cut her off. "I'm asking you."
She chewed her lip for a moment before answering. "Karen knew that Wesley was shot with his own gun. Even people at Orion didn't know that. A-and she's been keeping track of who's been investigating his case. She freaked out when Donovan came after her, Matt. She kept saying that someone knew about what she had done."
Matt's head was spinning as he tried to process everything she was saying. She couldn't possibly be insinuating what he thought she was.
"What are you trying to say, Sarah?"
"It seemed like maybe…maybe she had something to do with Wesley's murder," Sarah said, so quietly that no one without Matt's hearing would have been able to hear her.
The silence seemed to stretch on longer than it ever had before, painfully tense.
"That's insane," he said.
"I know," Sarah said quickly. "I know that. But…when you heard her asking me not to tell you guys about something…she wasn't just talking about getting attacked. She meant the entire night. Including us talking about Wesley."
"Did it include her telling you that she killed him?" he asked incredulously. "Y-you get Karen attacked, and now you're accusing her of, what? Murdering someone?" He scoffed sharply. "You've got nerve, I'll give you that."
"I didn't say that she killed him," Sarah argued, and for some inexplicable reason she was now getting as angry as him. "But it—it doesn't seem insane to me to think that maybe…she had some connection to what happened to him. That she knows something about it that she hasn't told you, at least."
"No, Sarah, that's—that's crazy. That's huge. We're talking about taking a life."
"I know that!" she exclaimed. "That's why I wasn't going to say anything to you. I knew you would react like this—"
He nearly had to laugh at that. Sarah threw something like this at him out of the blue and thought he would react calmly?
"What, react badly to you telling me that Karen is a murderer? Just a few minutes after talking about how you barely know her?" he shot back. "Karen is my friend, Sarah. I would know if she was keeping something like that from me—"
"Would you, Matt?" Sarah interrupted him. "It's not like she knows everything about you. If you're keeping a huge secret from her, who's to say she's not keeping one from you, too? How well could you two possibly know each other when she's oblivious to an entire half of your life?"
Matt slammed his hand against the metal medicine cabinet next to them, making Sarah jump violently.
"It's none of your business who I decide to tell my secrets to," Matt said in a low, hard voice. "Alright? You don't have the right to drag my friends in all this—"
"I thought I was your friend," she said, and there was a waver in her tone that tugged painfully at something in his chest. "But at the end of the day, I'm still not on the same level as Foggy, or Claire, or Karen, am I? Y-you say all this stuff about being on my side, but they're still the ones who you see as needing to be protected from people like me."
How was she possibly making him out to be the bad guy, here? Why didn't she get that he wasn't trying to protect Karen from her, he was trying to protect her from all of the danger that followed her around, the same things he was trying to keep away from Sarah herself?
"That's not true," he argued.
"Yes, it is. I'm sorry that Karen got hurt, I really am. But you know me, Matt. You know I wouldn't do that to you, I wouldn't hurt someone you care about on purpose. And you know I wouldn't just—just accuse her of something like that for fun. So why do I still get the enemy treatment?" she asked angrily, her words spilling out like she couldn't control them. "No matter how many times I think we're moving forward, I'm still just a threat to the things you actually care about. Maybe it was stupid to think that we were ever really going to move past that. Maybe you can't start with zero trust and expect to build something from that."
Did she really think that? A flash of hurt crossed Matt's face, before he carefully schooled his expression back into a neutral one.
"Maybe you can't," he agreed flatly. He took a step back, towards the door again. "You should go home. I need to go check on Karen."
As he left the room, he could hear her breathing change, and he was positive she was about to start crying. Part of him wanted to turn around, to go back into the room and not leave until things were okay between the two of them again. But from what she'd said, it didn't sound like that was what she wanted.
So instead, he made his way down the hospital hallway towards where Foggy and Karen were waiting, away from Sarah and all of the complicated and painful things that had just happened between them.