Charlotte had fallen asleep against Matt's side as soon as the clock struck four in the morning. They had sat on the sofa, just talking before she had started to doze off. Her voice had turned hoarse and her answers became shorter until finally Matt lowered his voice to a whisper and she gave him non-verbal responses. He slowly manoeuvred them until they were laid down. She was on her side, pressed between him and the back cushion. Finally, she fell back to sleep and he remained completely still, letting her nestle against his side, his arm around her shoulders and holding onto her.

He'd let her sleep as he remained awake, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep. He could hear the sirens outside of the window and he wondered what they were for. He remembered that he would do that as a kid. He would lay there in bed while his father was out and listen to them, imagining stories of people in trouble and cops saving them. It might be a bank robbery or a car accident. Either way, he never imagined the worst as a kid. He always thought that the sound of sirens meant that people were going to be saved. It was only when he grew up did he realise that it didn't necessarily mean that. Only those who were lucky were saved.

As soon as he heard his alarm in his bedroom go off, he knew that he had to get up. He should get ready for work. He was going to work from home in case child services needed to talk to him. He moved slowly, trying not to disturb Charlotte as he slipped from the sofa and padded into the bedroom. He turned the alarm off, fumbling for the button and then sitting on the edge of the bed.

He could hear her shuffling in the room next door. He'd tried not to wake her up, but it seemed that had been impossible. She groaned as she woke up, her limbs stretching. She shuddered, feeling a sudden chill without Matt by her side. She slipped from the sofa and yawned, seeing him sat on the edge of the bed. Moving towards him, she saw that his hair was completely ruffled and his eyes were staring straight ahead, completely still.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" Charlotte said to him and she perched next to him on the edge of the bed, curling one leg beneath her body and letting the other dangle over the edge of it.

"Found it hard to sleep," Matt confessed to her.

"Did you hear anything else last night?"

"Not a word," Matt said. "The father…he left his daughter's room as soon as I called child protection. I just…how could someone harm a kid, Lottie? I never got it. I never got it and I never will. It just makes me feel sick that there are people out there who can hurt other people…and we just turn a blind eye to it…I mean, I literally do."

"Hey," Charlotte said, moving a hand to his arm and stroking it softly, hoping that was at least somewhat soothing. "I know it's hard for you being able to hear everything going on. I get that, Matty, but…it's not like you can take the entire city on for yourself, is it? I know that Stick taught you how to use your gift, but you're still just one man."

"He taught me and I haven't used them for good, have I? I've just ignored everything going on around me, but last night…it felt too close to him because what he was doing to that kid…it…I couldn't listen to it."

"I know," she promised him on that point and she let her fingers slip down his arm to take hold of his hand, holding it tightly in her grip and not wanting to let go. She bowed her head, kissing his shoulder. "I know, Matty, but you can't go out there and be like…I don't know…Iron Man or something…"

"Probably not," Matt said, but he had to admit that he'd thought about it. He knew all about the Avengers, of course. He knew about the destruction that had followed them when they were on their missions. But he also knew that they tried to help people. They tried to do their best and that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to try and do his best, but he didn't know how.

What he did know was that he wasn't going to do it working in some corporate law firm and by ignoring suffering. But what he did know was that it could be dangerous if he did do something. If he had gone to that man's apartment last night and beat him to a pulp, he'd have deserved it. It would have been exactly what he'd deserved. But he hadn't. He'd tried to do the right thing, even if he didn't want to do that.

"You're thinking of something," Charlotte said, well aware that he had gone quiet.

She moved her fingers to his hair, running through it and tousling it even more. He glanced down in her direction and kissed her forehead. Whatever he was going to do, he wasn't going to drag Charlotte into it. Besides, he might not have to do anything just yet. She had enough on her plate and he was supposed to be focusing on her. He was supposed to be making sure she was safe.

"Just thinking about how much work I'll have to do today and with you here how I'd rather do anything but that."

"I can leave for a while if you need to work from home?" Charlotte said to him and sat up straight as Matt shook his head.

"Last thing I want," he assured her.

"Well, I mean I might go out…I've been thinking…maybe it's time I actually found a job or something…you know…stand on my own two feet."

"You know you have enough money that means you never have to work again?" he reminded her of the amount she'd been given in the divorce settlement. She saw it more as hush money, but she wasn't stupid enough to give it back. She would take it. She couldn't go up against her husband, not when he was involved in so many dodgy deals with people who could hurt her or, even worse, hurt Matt.

"I know, but I don't want to live off of that, Matty. I want to do something that makes me happy…like…maybe try and get back into art again."

Matt's ears pricked up at that, his lips quirking despite his mind going back to that dark place of what he wanted to do to his neighbour. "Really?" he asked from her.

She shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I mean, it might be that I'm really no good at it. I doubt art school would even want me with my reputation, but maybe I could volunteer to help out at places? Like a gallery or something? Just get back into it and pick up a paintbrush again eventually."

"I think that's a great idea," Matt said. "You're a great artist, Lottie. I might not be able to see it, but everyone's said it."

"Not everyone," she said, quickly interjecting and Matt frowned as she pulled her legs up to her chin, hooking her arms around her calves. Matt moved a hand to the small of her back, rubbing it gently as she closed her eyes for a moment, remembering that night clearly.

"Whatever he said, he said to hurt you," Matt said to her, tone softer than usual. Moving his hand to the ends of her hair, he played with it softly. "He has as much knowledge as I do about art and I can't see a damn thing."

He could hear a chuckle from her, feeling it vibrate from the back of her throat. "It wasn't what he said as much as what he did. He found my old paintings…you know the ones I'd done from back in the orphanage…and he…he threw them onto the log fire…told me I'd never be a successful artist…that I'd just humiliate myself if I tried to get into art school. If you're told you're useless often enough then you start to believe it. It becomes hard to think anything but that in the end."

Matt could feel his blood boil. It was people like Jonathan Jonas who needed to be dealt with. They shouldn't be allowed to get away with acting as they did with no consequences. He thought of the three girls he'd sexually assaulted. He thought of the years of abuse Charlotte had endured at his hands. And people like the women in the department store yesterday still defended him.

"Whatever he said to you was nothing but lies to make him feel bigger and better," Matt promised her, moving his hands and uncurling her from the ball she had crawled into. He manoeuvred her until she was sat over his lap, his arm going around her waist and holding onto her as she slung hers over his shoulders. "And I am going to spend every day telling you just how wonderful you are until it erases everything he ever said to you…I'm going to love you like he never could or did until he's nothing but a distant memory."

Charlotte looked to his face, her fingers running over his stubble covered cheeks. "Has anyone ever called you an old romantic before?" she questioned from him.

"Can't say they have," Matt said. "Then again, for you, I can be romantic."

"Yeah?" she wondered from him.

"I'll prove it to you," he said.

"I don't need you to prove anything, Matty. I just need you."

"I want to spoil you, Lottie. That's all I want to do right now so let me, alright?"

She sighed and knew there was no point arguing with him. Instead, she moved her fingers to his lips. He parted them softly, shuddering under her touch and trying to calm his body as he realised he was completely encompassed by her.

"Would you mind if I kissed you now?" Charlotte asked.

His lips tugged upwards at that. He couldn't believe she was asking if he would mind when it was actually the only thing that he could think of whenever she pecked him on the cheek. He moved slowly, nodding his head as he let his forehead brush against hers.

"All I can think about, sweetheart," he confessed to her and she finally kissed him, her lips pressing to his. He kissed her back, keeping the motion tender and light, just enjoying the feeling and the moment. He pulled back for a moment before kissing her again, repeating the pattern, completely convinced that this was how he wanted to wake up every morning.

…

Charlotte had been apprehensive about going into art galleries. She had walked past several, not having the courage to go in despite the fact she'd gone and had some business cards made up and called herself an aspiring artist on them. She was terrified of rejection. Her entire life had been made up of rejections. Her mother. Her husband. Even Matt had rejected her in the past. But, what she had to remind herself was, that was the past. Now she was looking towards the future. She had to be brave. She had to take chances. She never knew what might happen.

She'd been brave telling Matt that she still loved him the night before and that had seemed to pay off judging by the way he had been reluctant to stop kissing her that morning. She wasn't going to complain. She enjoyed it. It had felt so familiar but so new. She'd left him at his dining table with his laptop and pad open in front of him as he worked on a brief. She'd kissed him on the cheek before leaving the apartment and telling him she'd grab something for dinner on the way back.

She'd wandered the streets for almost an hour before going into her first gallery. She'd taken a deep breath before stepping in and finding the owner, asking if they needed a volunteer or any help. The owner had been more than happy to take her card. She had no idea if they would call, but she hadn't been outright rejected. And so she had kept on going. She'd gone to the next gallery and then another one before finding the last one on her list in a fancy building.

There were a handful of people in it, wandering around the large open rooms that held abstract works of art on the wall. Charlotte looked to them, completely transfixed by one portrait that was painted orange in the top half and then blue in the bottom. The texture was bumpy, the strokes un-even. Tilting her head, Charlotte found herself in awe by it. She had no idea why. It was nothing entirely stunning. It was no Picasso or Van Gough, but it caught her attention.

"Not many people have stopped by this one."

Charlotte turned to the side to see a woman in a dark black dress with stilettos stand next to her. She was tall and lithe, wavy hair hanging down to her shoulders and an expensive looking necklace around her neck. She folded her slender arms over her chest, a diamond ring sparkling there.

"It's…what do people say about it?"

"All they see is two colours and nothing else," the woman said, cocking her head slightly. "I don't know, some say that they see the colours of hell in it with the orange and then heaven with the blue. I find that quite a morbid description."

"I don't see that," Charlotte said with a shake of her head.

"What do you see?"

"To begin with…all I saw was the colour of sand and sea," she confessed. "But I'm not sure if that's just me longing to go on holiday somewhere warm."

The woman chuckled and Charlotte wiped her sweating palms against the green floral skirt she wore, her white sleeveless shirt tucked into it. She crossed her ankles together, sneakers squeaking together.

"But then I see the two contrasting colours…orange and blue should gel together, but these shades just clash…like a contrast…but at the same time they attract…like opposites, I guess," Charlotte said and then shook her head, turning to look at the woman. "I'm sorry, I'm talking utter rubbish."

"No," the woman shook her head quickly. "That's the thing with art. It's completely subjective. What I see and what you see is not meant to be the same thing," she assured her, pushing her hair behind her ear. "Do you have an interest in art?"

"I used to paint when I was younger, but I fell out of it," Charlotte said to her. "That's why I'm here, actually. I'm hoping to get back into it and thought that volunteering at a gallery might help. I don't know if you need anyone, but I can leave my contact details. I'm really organised and have hosted a number of events before, plus I'm a quick learner."

"A volunteer?"

"I just want to try and do something that I love after…not being able to do it for a while," Charlotte said to her and the woman cocked her head.

"Did the senator not approve of you painting?" she asked from her and Charlotte's eyes widened at that. She knew who she was. Charlotte's smile wavered and she looked down nervously. No one had recognised her so far and she'd used her maiden name on her business cards.

"I'm sorry, I should go," Charlotte said but the woman shook her head quickly and reached a hand out.

"No, you don't need to," she assured her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up your husband like that. I can imagine it hasn't been easy having your name dragged through the mud like you have. I know that…and I'm not the kind of person who believes everything that the tabloids say."

"I see," Charlotte said with a nod of her head. "I…I don't think I should really say anything."

"I get it," she said to her. "And I'm not expecting you to. What I am expecting is for you to turn up here on Friday mornings and help out with my weekly showings where I exhibit a new artist."

Charlotte suddenly felt a weight from her shoulder and her stomach flip. Looking the woman in the eye, her face must have beamed excitement because she chuckled. "You mean…you actually want me to help?"

"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't mean it," the woman assured her. "So what do you say?"

"Yes, God yes," Charlotte exclaimed, elation taking hold of her. "Thank you so much."

"You should know that I expect you to arrive on time at 10 and you might need to stay late depending on when the last customer leaves. We can't ask people to rush decisions when it comes to buying art."

"Completely," Charlotte said, holding her hands up and trying not to clap them together in excitement. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure…Charlotte, I take it?"

She held her hand out and Charlotte took hold of it, shaking it. "Charlotte Daniels," she confirmed.

"Pleasure to meet you, Charlotte Daniels," the woman said. "I'm Vanessa Marianna."

…

Charlotte had grabbed more food than she needed on the way home, intending on cooking mac and cheese. She'd picked up another cheesecake alongside crisps, ingredients for pancakes and toppings. Carrying the brown paper bag, she juggled with it until she unlocked Matt's front door and walked in.

"Hey!" she called out to him.

"Hey," he responded.

She moved towards the kitchen and found Matt still sat at the dining table, computer in front of him. She went to him and bent down, pecking him on the cheek. "Did the police stop by today?"

"Yep," he said with a pop of his lips.

She moved over to worktop and dropped the bag on top of it before sitting down next to Matt. She dropped her satchel to the ground and he nodded his head before she saw that his lips were pursed. He wasn't happy. He was angry. She could see it from the way his jaw jutted locked and chin jutted out. She sighed and moved a hand to cover his.

"What happened?" she wondered from him.

"They said that there was nothing they could do," Matt said. "The mum didn't believe it. The cops and child services saw no sign of physical abuse…and the kid…she said nothing was going on. She was too scared to go against her father and I get that. I just…I can't sit here knowing that he's going to do it again."

"I know," Charlotte said. "But what can we do? We could call them again? Try and gather evidence?"

"I don't want you involved in this, Lottie," Matt said to her with a shake of his head. "You've been through enough and I'm not dragging you into going against scum like this."

"I'm not saying I have to get involved, but maybe there's a way to get him to talk, you know? Like call the police whenever he's in…but…Christ…they might be too late. I don't know, Matty. I don't know what to do. What can we do apart from beat him up ourselves?"

"Not a bad idea," Matt muttered.

Charlotte's eyes widened. "Matt, are you serious?" she demanded from him. "And then you get into trouble for beating him up."

"Not if he doesn't know it's me."

"And if he hurts you back?" Charlotte wondered. "Trust me, I don't think this is the best response…I think we should call the cops again and tell them there's been a mistake. Or the little girl…what if I try and get her alone and tell her-"

"-Lottie, I know you mean well. I really do know you mean well," Matt said and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "But they're not going to do anything. We were in that orphanage. We know that horrible things happen to kids. We know full well what goes on and the authorities…they either do nothing because they can't or because there's no evidence. And I know that there will be other kids across the city suffering the same fate and I know I can't save them all…but this little girl…I can help her."

"And you think beating him up will stop him?" Charlotte asked. "I just…I'm not sure violence is the best option, Matty."

"And I get that, sweetheart," Matt promised her, giving her hand another squeeze as he shifted so that he was angled towards her, knees knocking against hers. "But I can do this. Stick taught me how to do this. I can get him to stop."

"You really think this is the right thing to do?"

"I think it might be the only way we can get him to stop," Matt said convincingly.

"I don't like it…the idea of you out there…using violence…"

"I don't like it either, but it's the only thing I can think of doing for her. There's a frightened little girl living next to us, Lottie…a little girl who is going through things no little girl should go through…and I…I can do something to stop it."

Charlotte bowed her head, thinking of the little girl before nodding. She knew he was right. If the authorities weren't going to do anything then maybe Matt was right in this instance. She nodded her head softly before reaching for his cheek and stroking it.

"Just…just be careful, alright? I don't like this, but I know you would do this anyway, no matter what I say."

"I don't want to, but I feel I have to," Matt promised her.

"But nothing else, Matty," Charlotte said to him. "I mean it. You don't know what else is out there and you could get seriously hurt. I don't want you to get hurt, alright? I just want you to stay safe."

"Nothing else," he promised her and leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips again. "Anyway, how did it go out there today?"

"I mean, nothing too great," Charlotte said, playing it down. She didn't feel it was right to celebrate after the conversation that they'd just had. "The owner of a gallery asked me if I could help out on Fridays for events she hosts for new artists."

"No kidding?" Matt asked, the smile on his face wide and genuine. "Lottie, that's amazing!"

"It's just one day volunteering," she said, still being modest even though she had felt elated when she'd walked into the apartment. "It's nothing too special and she might fire me if she thinks I'm really bad."

"She's not going to fire you because you are perfect," Matt said and he reached for her, hauling her from her seat and tugging her to stand in between his legs, his hands holding hers tightly. "She is lucky to have someone so smart…clever…and so passionate about art…couldn't do any better than you, darling."

"You know that you're laying this compliment thing on real damn thick, don't ya?"

"You know you go all Southern whenever you get embarrassed?"

"Shut up, city boy," she said and slapped him against the chest, making him laugh loudly.

"I'll not shut up because I'm telling you the truth, Lottie…you're perfect…Southern charm and all," he said and finally pulled her down to kiss her chastely.

…

Charlotte had been volunteering at the gallery on the same night when Matt had gone out. He had wanted to do it when she hadn't been in the apartment, knowing how she would just fret. He hadn't told her that he was going. He'd scouted out the father's movements for a few nights and had gotten to know his routine quite easily before deciding on that night being the night he made his move. He'd told Charlotte he had to work late and urged her to get a cab home after she'd finished work. She had promised him that she would.

But then he'd gone out to the railway where the man worked as a security guard. He'd waited patiently before pouncing. Each punch he landed on the man had felt satisfying. It had felt so satisfying that he didn't want to stop. He'd covered his face in a black mask, his clothes all black too. He was innocuous, lowering his voice and keeping his sentences short and to the point. He'd told the man not to touch his daughter ever again unless he wanted Matt back on his case. He'd left him a blooded mess and Matt could feel the swelling of his knuckles. He could feel the blood dripping down his skin.

He'd gone back to the apartment, taking the back route through alleyways and climbing up stairwells and moving across rooftops. He finally came back to his apartment and snuck in, sensing it was late and hoping Lottie was already asleep. Turned out his hope was misplaced. He could hear her breathing. She was sat up on the end of the bed.

She'd gotten home and showered, stripping from her smart fitted grey dress and showering before tugging on Matt's Columbia sweatshirt and joggers with long socks. She's waited up for him to come home when Foggy had called to say that Matt had left his brief at work. Charlotte had asked when he'd left and Foggy had said it had been about five. He hadn't been working late.

And so she'd sat up and waited for him to come back. Then he walked in, dressed all in black and tugging a mask from his face. But what caught her attention was his knuckles. They were all bruised and blooded, blood also smearing his face. Charlotte stood from the bed as Matt remained in the living room, sightless gaze hovering in her direction.

"Jesus, Matty," Charlotte whispered.

"I handled it."

"You lied to me," Charlotte said.

"I didn't want to tell you when it was your first day at work."

"And so you lied to me."

"I protected you."

"No, you lied to me. You kept this from me. You told me you were working late, but you were going after him."

"I knew that you'd worry and I didn't want you worrying when it was a big night for you. I just wanted you to focus on that," Matt said and moved closer towards her.

"So you thought that this was the better alternative? I thought we promised not to lie to each other? Didn't we do that? Promise not to keep things from each other? But you still are…even if you only have good intentions which makes this even more infuriating."

"Why?"

"Because it's hard to be angry with you when you're always thinking of me," Charlotte said to him. "Come here. You need to get cleaned up."

Matt knew he could clean himself up, but he let Charlotte take him by the hand and lead him towards the bathroom. He let her push him to sit down on the closed toilet lid as she ran hot water in the basin next to it. She grabbed a flannel from the radiator and dipped it into the water before kneeling down in front of him and running it over his knuckles. He hissed slightly in pain at the water, but soon settled down.

"Did it work?" Charlotte questioned from him in a low voice.

"I think so," Matt said. "Time will tell."

"What did you do to him?" Charlotte wondered.

"I…I just did what I had to so that he'd stop. I didn't kill him…but there was a part of me that wanted to. A part of me…while I was hitting him…I thought about what he'd done to that girl and then I suddenly thought about you…about what Jonathan did to you…how he'd do the same thing to you that that girl's father did to her and I found myself losing it. I found myself losing it and I didn't want to stop."

Charlotte gulped as she rinsed the flannel in the water, seeing it turn red before she ran it under the tap again. "But you did stop."

"Because I'm many things, but I'm not a killer. I never want to be a killer."

"You…Matty, I always knew that you…I don't know what to say without sounding horrible."

"You can say what you have to."

"That night you beat Jonathan up I didn't think anything was going to stop you until I shouted at you," Charlotte said to him and went back to cleaning his knuckles. "I went home and I laid awake that night and wondered just what you would have done if I hadn't gotten you to stop and that scared me because I couldn't reconcile that Matt with the sweet, caring Matt who had always looked after me."

"You think I'd have killed him?" Matt wondered.

"No," Charlotte said with a shake of her head. "But it scared me."

"I never want you to be scared of me, Lottie."

"I'm not scared of you," Charlotte said. "I was scared of what you could do because I know everything that Stick taught you. I know what he wanted you to do."

"I'm nothing like Stick."

"And I know you're not. It was just that at the time…it had all felt so intense…and I didn't know what was going on in my head," Charlotte said to him and went to rinse the flannel once more, the water now a deep red colour. "And I know you would never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. You don't go round terrorising neighbourhoods or beating up innocent people…but tonight…if someone fought back…if you had gotten hurt then I would never have known where you were. I know you want to keep people safe, but I just want you to be safe…and not lie to me…because I thought that we weren't going to do that."

Matt lifted his chin slightly. "So are you scared about what I can do or are you scared for me?"

"I'm scared for you," Charlotte said to him, but she wondered if there was a small part of her that was also scared of the former. "I've just gotten you back and I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"Then don't go out there again, please."

"I won't," he said to her.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Alright," Charlotte said and finished cleaning him off, wiping the blood from his chin. "But I'm still mad that you lied to me, Murdock, even if you did have the best intentions."

"How can I make it up to you?" Matt wondered from her. "Pancakes in bed? Jenny's cheesecake? Name the price and I'll do it."

"I want all of that…plus I want you to come to bed and promise me you're going nowhere until morning."

Standing up, he tenderly cupped her cheek. "That's a promise I can keep, sweetheart," he promised her and bent down to kiss her again, not knowing that he was going to break the biggest promise he'd made her.

...

A/N: So we are heading into season 1 now! Thank you to Daydreamerxx and .air for reviewing the previous chapter. If you're reading then I'd love to know what you think!