Chapter Text
At Nelson, Murdock, and Page, life goes on. There’s still a crappy office. There are still chickens.
Karen continues to find time for her own projects. This means that she will sometimes, for example, limp shoeless into work, smelling of hospitals and Frank Castle (two scents which tend to go together). Matt is not especially content about this caper, but holds his peace: Matt Murdock now knows, and Daredevil needs to remember, that the universe does not hinge on his contentment. You’re a born advocate, Matt, Foggy would say, but a lousy judge.
Karen’s is a human heartbeat. Not “standard”, or “normal”, or “typical”; if you burn in the world on fire, you know there’s no such thing. Human. Strong at rest, and moderately slow, but easily stirred by exertion, by triumph or travail, or by fear. Fear will never leave Karen – the risks she takes, for herself and for others, make sure of that – but she’s lived with it for long enough to think of it as a neighbour.
You’re staring, she says.
I can’t stare. Part of the package.
OK, then, you’re listening aggressively.
Matt scoffs, and throws a scrunched up leaf from a legal pad at her head. Karen catches it; she’s been working at those reflexes. Foggy sighs theatrically; the telephone rings. Nelson, Murdock, and Page go back to work.
FINIS