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Chapter Text

“I have something for you,” Matt declared, and he gently pulled away from Foggy before purposely striding right past Tony Stark and into their bedroom. The two of them watched him go, and Stark looked questioningly at Foggy.

She had her own question for him: “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

“You really think we’re going to help you?!”

“Not me,” he shook his head. “Wanda. And Clint, and Sam, and the other guy, the size-changing guy. They need your help.”

“Are you going to tell us where they are now?” Foggy was just getting angrier. “After days of not answering our calls?”

“In a second.” He looked around. “You know, I’d kind of expected you to live in a more expensive place by now.”

“You obviously haven’t noticed the existence of something called student debt,” Foggy snapped at him. Even with Elektra’s money they were still working on that. “We’ve indulged in a couple of amenities,” (Matt now had silk sheets his current woman had paid for), “and I’m taking our old secretary to see Hamilton in December, because we made an agreement about that back when all either of us could do was enter the lottery and hope, but…”

Meanwhile Matt had come back out, and now he strode up to Stark and presented to him one of the silver dollars one of his stranger recent clients had paid him with.

“What’s this?” A confused Stark took it. “Is it a collector’s item?”

“I wouldn’t give it up to you if it was,” said Matt. “But now you have thirty-one pieces.”

Foggy doubted Stark had ever actually read his Bible, and it seemed to take him a moment or so to get the reference. But then he visibly (and probably audibly, to Matt) sagged, his entire body letting go of fight. It made clear to Foggy how tired he was, and more than could even be explained by recent events. Foggy wondered if the rumors about his breaking up with Pepper Potts were true.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve fucked things up a lot. I know that. I fucked things up a year ago, and then I went along with these Accords because I thought it would keep me and my teammates from fucking things up again like that, and…” He shook his head.

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Matt. “You can’t just rely on authority to make the right decision and absolve yourself of having to think. Even soldiers can only do that most of the time; there‘s always going to be a time they’ll be ordered to break international law. And when the stakes are what they usually are when you people get involved? It would be very rare indeed where you could trust a politician, even a UN one, to make what’s truly the right call. It’s as Rogers says; you guys have to take that responsibility yourselves. That’s the reality.”

Stark looked at Foggy. “You really agree with him, there? You’re not a vigilante.”

“No,” said Foggy, because she really did have to establish that. But then she added, “But I’m not interested in having a philosophical debate about it with you, Stark. And, in fact, I’m not really interested in arguing with anyone about who should supervise a team that doesn’t even exist anymore when you still haven’t told us where our friend is and why she and her friends need our help.”

“Yeah, back to that,” said Stark. “I actually only found out just where they were a few days ago, when I saw it firsthand. Ross has built this prison, out in the Atlantic. They’re calling it the Raft. They must have been building it for months, planning this.” He sounded downright haunted. “I really didn’t think they’d do anything like this, I honestly didn’t. I figured they’d just be locked up and tried in the normal Federal system. But they’ve got all four of them there. From what I can tell they’re holding them without charges and without access to lawyers, and they’ve got Wanda in a straitjacket.”

A whole new level of rage had started building up in Foggy when he’d started talking about the existence of the Raft, and when she heard this last detail, her response was to shout: “A FEW DAYS AGO? What the hell have you been doing in the meantime?! While people you’ve had the presumption to call your friends have been stripped of their civil rights, one of them being subjected to cruel, inhumane, and degrading treatment, if not outright torture…”

“I only got back to New York City yesterday,” Stark pleaded. “There were…complications. They don’t really have to do with this and I’m not…” There was a thick pain in his voice, and Matt was nodding slightly; he was being honest enough. “Point is, I’m with you; we need to get them out. But I can’t do it. Rhodes is out of commission, and Romanov actually switched sides near the end of the parking lot jamboree, and I’m pretty sure she’s nowhere findable right now. If Vision and I tried on our own, it would probably end with me locked up in there with them and him possibly disassembled. We need to use the law to get them out.”

“Right,” said Matt. “I suppose if Ross was pushed, he’d cite that line in the Accords about countries agreeing to restrain their superheroes by whatever means and methods prove necessary. But no court’s going to see that as overriding the Bill of Rights and international law both. Well, maybe Scalia might have, but he’s dead. Ross must be trying to keep this a secret because the odds are against him getting away with it if the public found out.”

“Exactly,” said Stark. “Now, I had to sign a piece of paper forbidding me to blab. So two things need to happen. One, we need a leak. I’m working on that, but I might need Daredevil’s help. Two, we need a lawsuit.”

“That’s easy enough,” said Foggy. “The two of us pretty much are Wanda’s last next friends standing; we can file a suit on her behalf no trouble. For the other three, we need help from their next friends, and preferably at least two more lawyers, one for each of our prisoners.” She wondered if she could talk Marci into it.

“Clint Barton’s situation might be complicated there,” said Stark, which, duh, Romanov was gone to ground. “Sam Wilson’s case I think it’d probably be his mother; give me your email address and I’ll send you her contact info. Last guy I don’t know, but if you get yourself noticed in the media, hopefully they’ll find you.”

Foggy went over to the new coffee table, took up a pen and paper, and wrote her email address down. “Thanks,” said Stark, as he took it. “I may or may not be literally seeing you at some point.”

Matt suddenly grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, so hard Foggy instinctively jumped back. “Get that leak going,” he growled. “Fast.”

“Fast as I can, I promise,” Stark squeaked. It was another moment before Matt released him, and when he did, he was panting hard, and his fists remained clenched, as he struggled to keep control of himself.

Foggy turned and retreated to the bedroom. She had seen Matt like this exactly twice before. Although the second time it hadn’t been for long, because after the first, Matt had begged her to never stay around again. “I’d never hurt you, I swear it,” he said. “But I don’t want you to see me like this.” He’d been near tears, so Foggy had agreed.

Both of them had been before he’d taken to going out on the street to get this anger out of him. When Foggy had first seen that grainy footage from a hospital bed, she’d thought of those two times. There were also the occasional dents she saw in their possessions even now, and the realization he must have hurled them into a wall at a time when he’d been safely alone.

She heard footsteps and the door closing; Tony had left without another word. She heard a yell, and what she thought was one of their lamps getting hurled into the floor. When she heard Matt sobbing, she nearly went back, but when she heard his fists hitting the wall, it got her to stay put, to take her jacket, tights, and shoes off, and lay herself down on the bed to wait it out.

Eventually his blows to the walls slowed, then stopped. The crying took longer, until Foggy was just once again thinking to hell with it, she was getting up and going out there, when Matt came to her instead. He collapsed next to her, and nudged in. She knew he was focused on her heartbeat, which had thankfully long slowed down. He was still crying, but the worst of it was passed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re angry,” she said. “But I’m with you on this one. Heck, you leave anything out there I can smash?”

She got the chuckle she’d aimed for, though it was a rough one. “Maybe wait on that. This is probably just going to get worse. Especially since I kind of want to invade the Raft and dramatically drop you into the middle of it to serve Ross the papers. Of course we don’t have the resources for that…”

“Too bad,” said Foggy, leaning over to place her lips near his ear. “It would be kind of fun. Of course we’d probably get arrested for it…”

“No, no, no,” he said hastily, “you don’t get arrested. If anyone asks, I kidnapped you and stole the papers, and you didn’t break and enter the Raft willingly, although now that you’re there, and I dropped the papers next to you, you might as well serve them, right?”

“He’d probably find some reason to arrest me anyway.” After a moment, she added, “He might as it is. For both of us. But it doesn’t matter,” she raised her voice slightly to stop his objections, “because I’m still doing it. It’s the right thing to do, and people besides you have the right to risk everything in this kind of situation, as I know Karen’s told you more than once.”

“She’s done some very stupid things.”

“So have you. It’s my turn.”

“You did a stupid thing, once. You married me.”

Foggy would’ve refuted that one had she been less exhausted. Instead she just said, “That was well over a year ago; I’m due again. Besides, you’ll be doing it with me, right? This is a job for more than one lawyer. We’ll be working together again. Well, kind of.” She couldn’t hide her happiness when she thought about that. And hopefully Matt would do things right this time, like he had with Luke Cage.

The Following Afternoon

The next morning was not pleasant. Even after the hangover was gone and the painkillers had done her cramps in, Foggy had to face what she was up against in the cold, sober daylight. Of course they’d taken on the powerful before, and the price they were to pay for it might have still been in wait. But even Wilson Fisk had only ever been a local kingpin, and he’d never held any legal power. And even Samantha Reyes had also only been local. Going up against at least the Secretary of State, and probably the whole damn federal government, was another matter entirely.

By afternoon, she decided she had to avoid actually compelling anyone else into it. When she had a couple of hours free, she took Cheryl into her office, locked the door behind them, and told her the whole thing, although she tweaked it to leave any mention of Stark needing Daredevil’s help out.

“So in conclusion,” she finished, “My husband and I are about to piss off some of the most powerful people in the world. And honestly, if they’re willing to do this? Who knows what else they’re willing to do, including possibly going after anyone that’s so much as breathed on us. If you don’t want to risk that, I’ll understand completely. It would probably be best if you left me before the leak happened. We’re not planning on letting anyone know we had any idea it was coming, and you’d probably be able to slip away unnoticed. But I’m not sure how long that gives you to decide.”

Cheryl stood up, and walked to the window, clearly lost in thought. She didn’t want to run. Foggy was sure of that. But she hadn’t survived her hard life by just choosing to do the idealistic thing without thinking it through first.

Finally, she said, “Do you really think no one will think you two didn’t know it was coming? When they know the two of you are connected to both Wanda and Daredevil? Even if nobody ever gets their hands on a scrap of evidence of it, people will probably still believe it.”

She was probably right, unfortunately. “Maybe if we filed the lawsuit a day or so later, made it look like we needed time after hearing to write out and polish the petition…”

“You meant that thing of standard legalese that is mostly going to say what just about every habeas petition that came out of Gitmo said, with change of names, dates, and location?”

“And cutting out all the bit about the law of war, since Ross isn’t even trying to hide behind that one.” Foggy couldn’t keep the quiet, hard fury that had been sitting in her chest since the previous night out of her voice then.

Cheryl noticed, of course. “You really do hate that the world’s unfair, don’t you?”

“Since I was a kid.” Hell, maybe she had never advanced that far beyond being the teenager who would yell at a guy even before he called her a fat bitch, and then get everyone mad at her for telling the nearest teacher what he’d said. The teachers hadn’t always been happy with her for doing this either.

“I suppose I should’ve realized working for you would get me into this situation sooner or later,” she chuckled. “And you really can’t let your girl rot in the Raft, can you?”

“But this still doesn’t have to be your fight,” said Foggy. “At the very least, we can try to get you and your family away from it.”

“Or,” said Cheryl, turning back around, “you can keep us unnoticed and not worth going after. This is going to get media attention, one way or another. But we don’t have to be photographed together, and you don’t have to give my name up. I’d rather avoid being photographed at all, though I suppose if they mob the firm I might have to just mix myself in with the other PAs, hope they don’t figure out which one’s yours. You have to talk about me, you just say, ‘my assistant’ or something like that. And the day any of the threatening letters we’ll no doubt receive mention any member of my family by name, I will be out of here. Understand?”

“Absolutely,” said Foggy, relief flooding her. It would’ve been hell to lose Cheryl, going into this.

“Oh, and while we’re on this subject,” she said, “don’t think I don’t realize you and your husband’ve already got one dangerous man still alive already gunning for you. You haven’t been as subtle when it comes to talking about Wilson Fisk as you think, and I’ve heard things. I’d tell you where, but you haven’t been telling me much about it, so I think I’ll hold on that for now. That puts me in danger and I’m out too.”

She didn’t quite hide her anger, and Foggy had to hang her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should’ve…although the truth is, even I shouldn’t know what I know about that. Even Karen doesn’t, though of course she’s pissing people off on her own these days.”

“Wow, you didn’t tell her?” Cheryl sounded genuinely surprised, and maybe a mite less angry. “Though then again, I suppose she wouldn’t care much anyway, would she? You need to get used to having a sane secretary, m’am.”

“I don’t mind,” Foggy assured her. “Really, it leaves me much less stressed.”

That Evening

Ever since she hadn’t had to keep Matt’s secret from her anymore, Foggy had often invited Karen over to their apartment for quiet evenings in. They’d already been planning to have one that night anyway, and it started with the usual routine, with Matt waiting to depart until after she’d arrived, and he’d been able to tell them both he’d be back. Although by then they’d already argued about what to tell her, with Foggy thankfully winning, although she did agree to get Karen to swear to write nothing until the leak happened.

Karen’s face was thunder before Foggy was halfway through the story, but when she finished it, she just asked, “Do you want to leak it to me? Have a reporter you trust?”

“I think Stark’s aiming for the Times or something like that,” said Foggy. “Or possibly have a dummy account post the proof of it to Facebook. I don’t know if they have any cameras in the Raft or not, although he probably had one somewhere in that suit, and the means to make sure no one can determine the photos came from it. I’ll keep you forewarned as much as possible if you want, though. You can start drafting your outraged response beforehand.”

“But what if we revealed his part in it? Why should he get to keep his hands clean of everything? I’m really wondering, Foggy. They’re only in there because he helped put them there, whether he knew about it or not. Why should he get to retreat to his luxury home in California with his girlfriend, if she’s still with him, and relax while Wanda’s in a straitjacket?!”

Foggy certainly felt the same way she did about it when it was said out loud. But she knew how she had to answer that question almost as quickly. “He’s a rich man who in spite of everything probably isn’t going to be entirely without soft power even after the leak. At the very least, we can’t afford to lose him as an ally, and we definitely don’t want him mad at us too.”

“You two don’t usually make allies like that.” Karen was in that state, where her eyes were narrowed and her angelic looks just made her scarier.

“We don’t usually take on the United States government either,” said Foggy. “This is, this is the equivalent of running down the street and hoping your Punisher actually is up on the rooftops, because your staying alive might depend on it.” She knew for a fact Karen had been in that situation at least once. It wouldn’t have surprised her to hear there’d been other times either.

Bringing Frank Castle up also raised the point that Karen was kind of being hypocritical about now. She was quick to realize that, and she sighed and said, “I can’t promise I won’t grill him until he screams if we ever have to meet.”

“That I think you can do,” said Foggy. It was no worse than what Matt had done to him the previous night. “In fact, I think I’d like to be on hand to witness that. Preferably with my phone camera on. I’d want to refer to it so I can describe his face to Matt afterwards as accurately as possible.”

“Oh, you would, wouldn’t you?” Karen doesn’t quite laugh, but her voice goes soft like it. “Although I don’t suppose we can actually plan to give me a chance to grill him?”

“Not yet, but don’t assume it’ll never happen.” She was right, after all, in that Tony deserved to suffer. Even if, “Although I do wonder if you would’ve had the heart for it had you seen him last night. He looked like his was suffering then. I suppose it’s not news he feels guilty, but seriously, he was just…I don’t even know how to describe it. Maybe you could’ve found appropriate words.”

“Maybe,” said Karen, “but I write about misery every day. See a lot of it too. I don’t think I’d have been as moved.”

“That’s unlike you,” Foggy couldn’t help but observe.

She shrugged. “I’m a harder bitch now. For more than one reason, most of which you know. Same as Matt isn’t really the man he was even when I first met you two. Honestly, Foggy, it amazes me, sometimes, how you’ve still stayed so much of yourself, although even you’ve changed a lot in this past year and a half.”

They heard a clatter on the roof, and as always, they both felt their fear leave them, taken with the relief that Matt had not perished out on the streets that night. It was back a moment later, of course, as all the possibilities flooded them of what condition he might be in. Their eyes craned anxiously for the first sight of him.

He came in walking normally, and with no obvious wounds. He didn’t even have much blood on him as far as Foggy could spot, and she’d gotten good at spotting blood, even on the red suit. But the moment his mask came off, they could see from his face that he’d still run into something he hadn’t liked.

Before they could ask, he said, “Stark met me on the roofs. He’s got everything set up. He just needs to make sure nobody’s in a certain hallway in Rand Enterprises at a certain time of night. I told him I’m not doing anything unless Rand himself is fine with it-I don’t care about the Meachum side of that, but I still want his approval. I don’t know if he will be; I know he registered his powers as soon as the Accords came out. I suppose he must have signed them too. Stark claimed…”

“Never mind what he claimed,” Karen interrupted. “Surely if Rand was willing to go along with this, Stark would’ve approached him. I know he has enough influence with the company he can certainly get a hallway cleared.”

“Believe me, I’m not just taking him at his word. I might even approach Rand myself. I know he’s gone out at night at least once since the Accords, though it wasn’t connected back to him, so I might even run into him.”

“Be sure to ask him why he’s not doing the dirty work himself,” said Karen. Foggy had gotten the impression some time ago that her opinion on Danny Rand had gone down considerably when she'd actually met him.

“I will.” Matt had gone into the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water. “But this is still going to happen fairly quickly. Stark wants to do it within the next week. I think he’d have done it tomorrow if I hadn’t insisted I get Rand’s agreement first. He even asked me how long I wanted Wanda to be in that straitjacket.” He gulped down the water and placed the glass down hard on the counter. “Never mind that it could be months even if we did do it tomorrow. Even if we motion to force them to take it off her immediately.”

“The judge had better grant that one, at the very least,” Karen growled. “So long as he doesn’t turn out to be a right-wing stooge.”

“Better hope we avoid that,” Foggy agreed, though she was aware that judge almost certainly wouldn’t have the final word. She was pretty sure this one was at least going to be appealed to the Supreme Court, and it would be pretty surprising if they didn’t take it.

That would be something, she thought, if they got to speak to the Supreme Court. Hopefully with a decent ninth judge having been appointed by then; the election would be long passed, even if the Republicans actually did hold out. She supposed the case might also attract the attention and support of some famous high-profile lawyers who would do the arguing instead, because they’d be more experienced and better at it.

But it was a nice image, her and Matt before the judges, him killing it dead with his rhetoric at its best-and it would be, if she had to tie him to his computer with his earpiece cord at night to get him to stay home and work on what he was going to say. And she, somewhere her biomom had never gotten to, rescuing one of her oldest friends from the great bullies of the world, doing what she’d dreamed of doing when she’d first decided to go to law school. And with her husband by her side, even.

If she and Matt never did get to work on a case together again after this, at least she would have the privilege of sharing with him the greatest of both their battles.

Chapter Text

Two days later Danny Rand actually showed up to their apartment in person early in the evening. Foggy promptly urged him to have a beer, since that would slightly decrease Matt’s chances going out that night and greatly increase the chances of him not going out alone. When they were settled down with their drinks, he said, “I just want you two to know I’m behind this one hundred percent. I haven’t even signed the Accords yet, though I admit I’m probably going to. Jeri’s really trying to talk me into it, she did get me to register, and I don’t really disapprove of UN oversight. But Stark explained to me what’s going on in the Raft, and I think we all knew already what Ross was, really.”

“But if that’s so,” said Foggy, “why do you need Matt to clear your hallway? Karen seems convinced you could do that on your own.”

With an embarrassed look, Danny said, “It’s true that if I asked Ward, he’d give the order. But it’s, um, unlikely everyone who works on that floor would take it seriously. And some of them would probably stick around because they want to know what crazy things I’m up to that I don’t want anyone seeing. We’d never actually get the place empty. Please tell her I’m telling the truth, Murdock.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said Matt. He was actually smiling a little.

Danny put the bottle on the floor; he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with alcohol. “A lot of the people who work for Rand, I think they view me as some strange exotic child. Some have even developed a weird condescending affection for me. I’m a living mascot. Someone even designed me an Iron Fist costume. It looked really awful; even I could tell that.” He shook his head. “There are have been dozens of Iron Fists over centuries. It is a long time, vaunted, honorable position that means so much. And nobody here understands that at all. Nobody cares.”

Foggy made it a point in her life to not be too sympathetic to any complaining superhero, even the one she was married to. But even Matt was still smiling, and he said, “You know, if this goes on, maybe we can get you introduced to Thor, although nobody seems to have any idea where he is and it certainly isn’t here right now. From what I’ve heard about him, he might appreciate learning about a bunch of past superheroes.” And they also shared that tendency towards social ineptness, though Danny was getting better about that now, and anyway Matt was too polite to mention it.

“Well,” Danny grinned back, “from what I’ve heard about Thor, if he were here, you wouldn’t have to sue for habeas, would you? He sounds like he’s so strong we can’t restrain him, and like he’d break his friends out of prison no matter what.”

“No,” said Foggy, who had already thought about the possibility of the Avengers getting free on their own. “Even if they escape the Raft, they’d still be fugitives unable to return to the country that’s now home for all of them without getting unlawfully imprisoned again. We’d still have to go to court to protect them from that fate.”

In the end, Danny went home, and Matt stayed with her that night, making love to her with a zest that didn’t happen for them during sex as much as it used to. When they were done, he buried his face in her neck, and she held her hands on his back and felt it rise and fall with his breathing, until they both fell asleep without even cleaning up, which was always a bad idea, but Foggy couldn’t bring herself to care.

She called Karen the next morning, but neither was willing to talk about anything secret over the phone. Instead they met in the park during their lunch break, one a bit longer than either of them usually took, but they needed to relax a little while they still could. At this time tomorrow everything would likely be changed.

“We should definitely go out to eat tonight,” she said. “Just a diner, or something, unless you want to pay for both of us; my finances are a bit tight right now.”

“Oh, I’m all in favor of cheap,” said Foggy. “Who knows that this won’t cost me my job.” She mostly meant it jokingly, but of course it was a very real possibility.

“In that case,” Karen hesitated, then said, “there’s one near Rand Enterprises I ate at about a month back, while that whole…thing…was happening. The food’s very good, good enough I was already thinking about going back there at some point. I’m probably going to get out of my office a little later than usual today; this isn’t the only story going on for me. We could meet at eight.”

Matt probably wouldn’t go out as early as eight, not at this time of year. But Foggy and Karen often lingered over dinner when they ate out together, sometimes talking for a couple of hours or more. Foggy didn’t know exactly what the plan was, but the clearing of a hallway was something that struck her as having to happen early in it.

Karen was looking at her in such a way to indicate she was intending to leave it up to her. But that wouldn’t do; tonight would be agony for the both of them. “Do you want to be nearby, when we can’t even know when this is going to happen?” she asked her.

“I do,” said Karen. “It’s foolish of me, when I don’t think either of us will be able to do anything even if something does go wrong. We’d probably even have to hide our reactions if we heard a commotion, just in case Daredevil gets connected back to this. But, you know, this is the first time since you told me that I’ve known beforehand something big’s happening tonight. At least if we’re in sight of the building and there’s no sign of a commotion, we’ll know the odds of something going wrong right now are low. I might even be able to sleep tonight afterwards.”

Foggy thought about all that. She considered those nights during the whole Punisher/Elektra saga, when even when she’d had all the casework to distract her, she’d hated so much not having any idea of where Matt was and what he was doing while knowing how much more danger he was in than was even usual. She thought of the night he’d gone to rescue Karen and her fellow captives, feeling like she was dying of terror over the both of them, how relieving it had been to be there when she, at least, had come out of that building unharmed. She also thought about how hard it had been to stay outside, down on the street, not fully able to tell what was going on with Matt even when he’d seemed to be on the roof.

She considered the probability of their being able to hear anything tonight anyway, and it hit her that it was more likely they would see the reaction: people leaving the building, whispers gathering, police cars probably also gathering, though hopefully by the time too many of those arrived Matt would be out. They might or might not see him leave, depending on how good he was. (Obviously, it would be better if they didn’t.) Then something else hit her. “Karen,” she said, “If a scene gathers outside, you’re going to have to go out there and be a reporter. I can come with you if you want, but are you willing to do that?”

Karen closed her eyes; Foggy watched her consider it. She watched a young couple walk past their bench holding hands; Hispanic, and so talking in Spanish. She saw the young man’s eyes in how he looked at his companion, though, and that look was universal. He made her laugh about something when Foggy was staring at their backs. She felt something strange twist inside her.

“Yes,” Karen finally said. “If I didn’t know what was going on, I’d be hurrying to the scene the moment I heard anyway. Why not make it convenient for myself?”

“Then we’re doing it,” said Foggy. “Meet you there at eight?”

That Evening

Karen wasn’t kidding that the food was good. Foggy soon decided they had to come back here when they were both not scared to death over what was going down that night.

When she told Karen so, her friend laughed and said, “I keep meaning to drop into here whenever I’m in the area. And I’m traveling around a lot more of New York than I used to.”

“So how much have you been to places, now?” Foggy asked. “Discounting your explorations when you first arrived.”

“And all that time living in Queens?” she smirked. She’d lived there quite some time after her arrival in New York, moving to Hell’s Kitchen only after the Incident. She had once teased Matt and Foggy about seeing more of their home city than they themselves had. Which was totally not fair, especially since unlike Matt, Foggy actually had been outside New York.

But even discounting all that, she had plenty to talk about, including her recent trip to Staten Island, which she’d never been to before. She was in the middle of a lengthy talk about the various issues the ferry terminal was still enduring four years after the Incident, even though the building itself had gone more or less undamaged, with their food more or less eaten, when they saw the first police car drive past and then stop just outside Rand Enterprises.

They both stopped talking for a minute or so. “Only one,” Karen said, very, very quietly. “It’ll look suspicious if I go out now, won’t it?”

“Yeah, at least wait for two of them.”

It was a worrisome development, though. A single police car, after all, wasn’t going to be of much use if they thought they were about to engage Daredevil. But they might bring only one if they had managed to arrest him.

The two of them had to continue to talk. Karen resumed her storytelling, although Foggy barely heard enough of her words to be able to tell that. She might have even turned incoherent for all her friend could tell. She hoped no one was listening to them too closely.

They both were very aware when people started coming out of the building. At first it was only about half a dozen people, still not enough to justify going to look. Although that no one had emerged with Daredevil in handcuffs was reassuring by then. But when more followed, clear even in the street lamps, Foggy saw Karen begin to fidget. “Think it’s time to call for the check?” It probably would’ve been anyway, so Foggy just said, “I’ll get it.” She did more often than not, and it was her husband who had dragged them here.

As she paid, a second police car pulling up. A number of the people sitting by the windows were watching, so it was easy for Karen to openly be focused on it. Then when a familiar figure emerged from the second car, she grinned. “Brett. He is not going to be expecting to see me here this quickly…” But it would very far from the first time she’d been among the reporters asking him questions at the scene.

By the time they had traversed the half a block between the diner and the sidewalk right outside Rand Enterprises, the crowd had gotten big enough it wasn’t even easy to navigate, especially when they only had the street lamps with which to do so. But Karen had her notepad out, and Foggy knew she was listening to what everyone around them was saying. She’d been in this scene with her before, and seen her fill multiple pages before she even asked anyone any questions.

She listened herself, and some of what she heard was reassuring, such as “he’s long gone by now,” “don’t know why they’re still here, there’s not that much left to do,” and especially, “I’m not sure anyone even got a clear look at him, I mean, it looked kind of like Daredevil, but it might have even been someone else.” Combined that with the fact that Daredevil rarely came up to this part of Manhattan, and maybe the world would convince itself it hadn’t been him.

Foggy had long suspected Karen and Brett had developed the ability to have whole conversations with looks across crowds, or just across Foggy herself when they were in the precinct together. When Brett finally laid eyes on them when he was in the middle of talking with another officer, the “Oh, you have got to be kidding me, don’t come anywhere near me right now” look was one both of them could understand. Karen even seemed to nod at it slightly.

Besides, a woman near them then recognized her, and pushed through the crowd calling, “Excuse me, are you Karen Page of the New York Bulletin?”

Sometimes the first person who wanted to tell the story wasn’t the best person to get it from, but Karen was still pretty softhearted, when it came down to it. “Yes,” she said, shamelessly nudging Foggy aside until the two of them were standing next to each other. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

“Ha!” The woman laughed. “I know what happened with the Daredevil before you did! Don’t you listen to that nonsense the other people are saying, that it was actually the Iron Fist. I heard him hiss to someone that the stairs were that way and I saw that YouTube video which had his voice in it.” Oh yes, *that* video. Foggy had spent the week after it was first uploaded in constant terror.

“Can you describe to me exactly what happened?” Karen asked, the picture of professional calm.

“Well, I didn’t see all of it,” said the woman hastily, making Foggy suspect she hadn’t seen most of it either. “But we all heard the commotion when it started. I must say, I really thought the Daredevil would be quieter coming into a hallway, but he was slamming the door at one end and then he was loudly running all the way to the other, and you could hear him trying to get one of the office doors open, though I think whoever he was after had locked up and gone home for the night.”

“No, wait!” A nearby man cut in, budging up to them. “It couldn’t have been the stairwell door he slammed. He came in from the ceiling. Did you see where the tiles were all loosened?”

Knowing Matt, he probably had come in from the ceiling. Foggy supposed he’d probably slammed the door just to confuse people or something. But that possibility apparently hadn’t occurred to their interviewee, who said, “No, I heard that door, and then I heard the running. And then silly Sandy ran out, and she did see him on the ceiling, or so she told me just now, and I don’t know what he did, but she ran away screaming. And then some more people came out of their offices, but I thought that was ridiculous; he was right outside, and it was smarter to shelter in place. So I got behind my desk, and I think I heard some whacks or something, and then I didn’t hear anything for a while…”

“You liar!” Another man interrupted her. “You were never there. If you had been there, you would’ve heard the scream after the whacks. That crazy vigilante was trying to punch one of his holes in the wall. I would’ve thought he was Luke Cage, but the people who saw him are saying he wasn’t big enough. And I don’t know who was talking to you but he was never on the ceiling. He couldn’t have been. They have it waxed. Even the Spider Man couldn’t do anything with that ceiling.”

“There wasn’t any screaming at all!” Another woman indignantly interrupted. “There’s no one on our floor the Daredevil would make scream. On the floor below us…maybe, but-”

“I’m not saying Sandy had a good reason to scream,” said the first woman. “But I heard her do so, and she definitely screamed something about the Devil, so I know it was him.” Karen didn’t say anything about how she had originally claimed to recognize his whisper, so Foggy followed her lead there. “I stayed there and I heard everything. I was just wondering if maybe he’d gone into one of the offices and I might make a break for the stairs…”

“Ms. Page!” Another woman who looked vaguely familiar to Foggy shoved herself in between Karen and her interview subject. “Of course you’re here, aren’t you? Anyway, don’t listen to Mary here, she’s a pathological liar; I don’t even think she works on that floor…”

“You’re the liar, you bitch!” The woman in question yelled back, and she raised her arms that made Foggy fear violence. Karen too, since she visibly flinched, even though Mary was now turned away from her.

And Matt. Since he’d started this whole Daredevil thing, Foggy had become convinced all the extra senses included one that automatically told him when any woman he cared about was in danger. (There was one story Jessica Jones had told she still didn’t quite believe). Now, on the roof of a neighboring building, she caught a flicker of movement, barely visible in the dark. She might not have spotted it if she hadn’t known that figure so well. He didn’t have to stay near the edge to watch, Foggy reminded herself. But since there was no way he didn’t have his ears trained on the two of them this minute, he’d probably stay there until they left.

Well, at least she had confirmation he wasn’t in the building anymore.

And Brett, who had decided he was willing to talk to her now, because he came over and barked at Mary, “Hey! M’am, I think we’ve had enough violence on this site tonight.”

Mary quailed back, but she said, “I was on that floor! Don’t you want me statement on what happened?”

“She wasn’t on that floor, sir,” said the other woman. “Just ignore her.”

Poor Brett clearly already had a headache, and this obviously wasn’t going to help. Karen’s voice was gentle as she asked, “Any official statements at this time?”

“Only that we’re pretty sure there was an unknown intruder, and we think he’s not in the building anymore. And he left a big hole in the wall. At least it stands to reason the one we found was from him. Though we can’t figure out a logical reason why he did so yet.”

Foggy couldn’t either. Karen just thanked him. “I’ll leave you alone, then,” she said. “For now.”

“Um, Karen,” Foggy tried to drop a meaningful tone into her voice without making it obvious. “How much longer do you think we should stay on site?”

Karen caught it, and looked around, torn. “I really should at least talk to a few more people…but I don’t think any of them are *that* likely to need a lawyer. You can go home if you think your husband’s going to worry. He really should not be worrying then.” A meaningful tone there, one Foggy really hoped Matt would heed.

“Thanks. Contact each other when we’re home safe?”

Foggy elbowed her way out of the crowd and started to walk home. It was far enough away that normally she’d get a cab or something, but obviously there were special circumstances tonight. When she was sure she was out of everyone’s sight, she turned into an alleyway, and said, in a moderate voice, “You heard what Karen said, right?”

A couple of minutes later Matt descended, and was standing next to her. “Crowd’s clearing out now anyway,” he said. “Karen’s talking to a pair of guys right now. Of course from this distance it’s harder for me to tell if they’re telling her the truth or not, though what they’re saying sounds like it.”

“What happened, exactly? Do you really form a hole in the wall?”

“Stark gave me something with which to form it while making it sound like I’d punched it. Something the Iron Fist and Luke Cage can both do, although too many people saw my outline to think I was the latter. Just the outline, though; I tried to avoid having too much light hit me. He also gave me things with which to attach myself to the ceiling, though he told me he didn’t want anyone thinking I actually was Spider-Man. He sounded pretty protective of that guy. I’ve heard rumors that he might be kind of young. But he also told me he wanted this to feel like a protest on behalf of all the superheroes on both sides of the original debate.”

“Which he himself still says out of.”

“Yeah.” Matt sighed, then cocked his head slightly as he listened again. “Karen’s calling Ellison, and it sounds like Ward Meachum’s on the scene. Think she’ll get anything interesting out of him?”

“We can ask her tomorrow,” said Foggy firmly. “Meanwhile, you need to get out of the area before the police decide to start searching it. I am walking home now.” And with that, she turned and started walking, and he, cooperating for once, headed back for the rooftops to shadow her.

It was a bit longer of a walk than she would’ve liked normally, but by the time she was headed up the stairs to their apartment she wasn’t anything worse than a little out of breath. That took her long enough that she came in to find Matt had already stripped out of his costume and to his leggings. He hadn’t taken any blood on him, though he was covered in a visible sheen of sweat. Even after the stress of the evening, it was a sight that did things to Foggy.

“If I stopped going out…” he commented when the door was closed. “Do you think anyone would wonder why?”

“They’d probably figured you been killed,” said Foggy, letting her body tell Matt the rest of her thoughts.

“But it wouldn’t be permanent,” he said. “Just until…just until I can be certain that no one’s going to try to kill us.”

Of course he’d been thinking about that possibility. “But you’d have to worry about two more lawyers, then; whichever two join us, and if one of them’s Marci, she isn’t exactly the sort of person willing to stay home every night. You can focus on those involved in this, though. Noone would see anything odd in that.” Foggy had walked over into the bedroom as they’d talked, and now she started to shed her own clothes.

A bare arm wrapped itself around her a moment before Matt leaned himself against her back, now in nothing but his briefs. It wasn’t even particularly sexual, just him clearly wanting to be in contact with her. “I wonder how Marci would react to seeing Daredevil, though. Her feelings on him are pretty mixed, aren’t they?”

“I think under the circumstances…” Foggy’s phone chimed, and she reluctantly pushed Matt’s arm away to fish it out of her bag. “Karen,” she said, as more texts from her friend pinged up on the phone. “She’s caught a cab home. Says she’s almost sad the leak’s probably happening tomorrow; she got enough tonight for more than a few hours’ coverage. As it is, she’s going to burning the midnight oil. What did they say to her?” They must have; she wouldn’t be excited over writing this kind of story related to Daredevil otherwise.

“We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?” Matt put his arm back in place, added his other one, and practically nuzzled himself against her neck. There was an elation coming into his voice now, as if he was proud of what he had done that night, now that he no longer had to worry about either of the two people he cared about most. “We should probably go to sleep. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Foggy considered the time on her phone before dropping it onto her bag. “It’s not that late,” she said. “I think we’ll be safely asleep by midnight even if we take a bit of time to work off excess energy. As you are right now, baby, I don’t think any attempts on your part to fall asleep immediately would work.” That was very true. Also, having him just like this, all happy and excited and satisfied, while having no new injuries, well, that left Foggy wanting get her hands on him, to take every moment of it she could.

"With that kind of argument, Ms. Nelson,” said Matt, half maneuvering her around and half letting her turn her head until their mouths could reach each other, hot and hungry, and he was already going for the buttons of her blouse, while she could feel that bare back already, her fingers light and teasing to make him pant into her mouth.

As they fell onto the bed, Matt now completely naked and her not far off, Foggy felt a tiny stab of guilt, thinking about Karen working so hard right now while she and Matt got to enjoy themselves. As was probably Tony Stark, though Foggy felt much less sorry for him.

But, she reminded herself, she and Matt would be the ones working the hardest before too long. Maybe not tomorrow, no, tomorrow no one with news-related jobs was going to get much rest. That might also be true for a few more days after that. But once the initial furor died down, while Karen would remain on the job somewhat, it would be she, Matt, Marci, if she could rope her in, and whatever other lawyers joined them who’d be up the latest at night, who’d be doing all the heavy lifting, and might even have to forego any other cases for at least a bit. She sure hoped Stark was willing to fork some money over to Matt for that at least.

So for now, Foggy sighed into Matt’s kisses, tried to kick her stockings off, and let the last of her rational thoughts fly away when Matt found that sensitive spot by her hips and started madly kissing it with her blouse still batting at his hair.

They did go to sleep faster than usual afterwards. Matt especially barely toweled himself down before he crawled back under the sheets, and he was still enough when Foggy joined him, a scant few minutes later, that he had to already be asleep.

She herself stayed awake just long enough to think that it was a pity she couldn’t sleep in the next day, but at least Matt could get an extra half an hour or so if she was clever enough getting out of bed.

Chapter Text

She wasn’t quite clever enough, and Matt did momentarily awake when she slipped out from under his arm. But when he didn’t move to get up too, she whispered to him, “Just stay there, baby. Rest for a little longer,” and he actually appeared to listen for once. By the time she was eating a quick breakfast in the kitchen mostly consisting of leftover takeout, Matt’s breathing from the bedroom sounded even.

Karen’s article about the disturbance at Rand Enterprises was already up on the Bulletin’s website:

Mysterious Break-In at Rand Enterprises 
Identity and Motives of Daredevil-like Figure Uncertain 
By Karen Page

Some said it was Daredevil, now looking to make the expansion of his area of operations permanent. Others insisted it had to be the Iron Fist. One person wondered out loud if Luke Cage had taken something to make him shrink, though one thing everyone agrees about the culprit is that he wasn’t anywhere near the known height and weight of Harlem’s bulletproof hero. They generally agree it’s a man too, although that didn’t stopped some people from bringing up the possibility of Jessica Jones. No one seemed to be suggesting Spider Man out loud, and he still doesn’t venture out of Queens that often, but no doubt at least some people are thinking it, especially as a couple of accounts claim the mystery man could stick to the ceiling.

Ultimately, however, the identity of the mysterious man that appeared in the corridors of the sixteenth floor at Rand Enterprises last night is the least of the questions everyone is left with. The police cannot even absolutely confirm it was he who left the hole at the corridor’s end behind, though it’s hard to believe otherwise. He attacked nobody, doing no worse than creating that hole and scaring the living daylights out of a few employees. Nor did he steal any objects, although as this is going to press, Rand has just stated they believe several computers on that floor were broken into, while giving no further details.

“I almost feel like this could’ve been anything from a prank to an assassination attempt,” says Rand CEO Ward Meachum. “We’ve had both at this company in the last month, believe it or not.”

Foggy wasn’t sure if she did believe it or not. Idly she wondered if Ward had had any idea of what was really going on; she had no idea whether or not Danny would’ve told him.

What no one seems to think of, but is certainly very possible, is that this wasn’t even a superhero at all, but rather, someone wanting people to think it was, and be thus all the more afraid of them. Granted, if it was, the culprit was not the most competent of people. By the time the crowd that gathered outside was starting to disperse, no one sounded very afraid when they spoke of the intruder. It helps that most of the ones who whose names came up as suspects currently have positive reputations. When whoever broke into Rand Enterprises last night didn’t even hurt anyone, it’s easy to think they didn’t even intend to.

It was hard for Foggy to surmise whether that was actually true, or Karen wanting to believe it was; she still got like that, sometimes. Something to ask Matt about, maybe, given how much he heard.

Ultimately, for all we know, it could have even been Iron Man who broke into Rand Enterprises, or possibly some robot or unoccupied suit under his control. Tony Stark has barely been seen publicly since the public confrontation and combat between the Avengers, but he certainly has the ability to blow holes in the wall, stick to the ceiling, and hack into computers, and no doubt he could do these things with a remote-controlled robot as well, not even necessarily an intelligent one like Vision. As has been the case for most of the last month, Stark has not been available for comment.

After that paragraph, Foggy didn’t really read the final two paragraphs of the article, which were basic summing up and a couple of quotes from the scene. Instead she texted Karen, You really can’t leave Stark alone?

Karen’s response came as Foggy was putting her jacket, listening to Matt groan himself awake in the other room: Can’t. Sorry.

Unfortunately, they really couldn’t talk about anything more specific over a phone that could at any time be seized, possibly even for a bogus reason. Foggy even considered deleting as much as they’d said, before deciding that would look even more suspicious.

Besides, she didn’t want to bother Matt with it yet. Especially not if he praised Karen for it.

So instead she just texted, Think anyone from Rand will join Colleen Wing’s classes? Colleen Wing was currently in the process of getting her new dojo opened, and, if nothing else, she had a number of family and friends of various vigilantes already looking to enroll as students, Foggy and Karen both among them. Foggy doubted she’d ever be a very good fighter, but having any kind of training at all had in the most recent days felt more vital than ever.

Think there might be a few anyway, Karen texted back. Though probably not Ward. That was kind of a pity, Foggy thought, if only because it would’ve been amusing.

That Afternoon

The footage dropped when Foggy was in the middle of a meeting with a woman who had been arrested for heckling Ross. She had forbidden her from checking her phone before the meeting began, just in case of this exact scenario; she’d really wanted to get through it.

She’d even gotten Sasha to mute her phone, and she’d done the same with her own. So her first awareness that it had probably happened was due to a substantial increase of noise outside her office, which she forced herself not to react to. After all, she wasn’t supposed to have any more idea of what it could mean than Sasha did. Less, maybe.

Except then Marci managed to ruin it by hammering on Foggy’s locked door and yelling, “Foggy! Foggy! Foggy Bear! You need to drop whatever you’re doing and come watch this now!”

“No, I don’t!” Foggy yelled back. “Whatever it is, it can wait…” she leaned over enough to look at the computer clock. “…sixteen more minutes!”

“No, it can’t! Bruno, can you go find Cheryl? If someone doesn’t unlock this door I’m going to break it down, I am not kidding!”

Well, that was a stronger reaction from Marci than Foggy had been anticipating. Not mention it was so out of character for her that she really had no choice but to stand up and go to the door, though she wasn’t unlocking it if she could help it. “Look,” she sighed, “I don’t know what new aliens have shown up and abducted the real Marci Stahl here…”

“What’s happened?” No good, Sasha had put two and two together when she knew what kind of specialist Foggy was. “Have they arrested someone? The Daredevil? They’ve arrested Jessica Jones already, so their doing that again wouldn’t be that big a story, would it? Although I suppose at this point Luke Cage being arrested again could go either way.”

“You know better,” Foggy told her, because she really was supremely unimpressed at that one.

And Marci took that as permission to provide further answer, as she yelled, “Seriously, Foggy, it’s up a higher level, as in, Wanda!”

From Sasha’s reaction, Foggy could tell it was hopeless anyway, so she went ahead and hastily unlocked the door and pulled it open with a, “What? Have they finally said where the hell she is?”

“Oh, it wasn’t them,” was her grim reply. “I think it might have been some disgruntled employee of Stark who was able to get their hands on footage from that suit of his, which was just uploaded to YouTube by a newly created account. Not many details about the account yet, but I do hope whoever it was, they covered their tracks well enough to get away with it.”

She was looking and talking in a way Foggy had honestly never thought she’d see from her again. It was the way she’d done back at Columbia, when she’d gotten started on some wrong she was planning on making right when she took over the legal world. “Take a look,” she said, and she already had the video loaded on her phone.

Knowing what it contained did nothing to the indignation that flooded Foggy when she got her first look at Wanda. The straitjacket was painful enough, but the vacantness of her expression, the kind she’d seen a handful of times in the months after Pietro’s death but had now thought over with, left her wanting to go all Daredevil herself on anyone and everyone responsible. The footage wasn’t long; the way it cut off just as Stark started talking to Sam made Foggy suspect one of them had said something Stark didn’t want to make public knowledge. Maybe something to do with whatever had delayed his return to the States? Or related to where Rogers and Barnes were right now? Foggy didn’t care.

Cheryl joined them just as the clip finished. “Looks like your friend needs your help,” she commented; they’d half-planned out a script that morning. “Though how’s she supposed to ask for it?”

“Well, she clearly can’t,” said Marci. “But, well, Wanda Maximoff has no family left alive, right? And aside from you and Matt, her friends have all recently either turned on her or are in the same situation as her, so…”

“Yeah,” Foggy agreed, glad for the easy cue. “Useful thing, I suppose, when your lawyer and your next friend are the same person, same as they initially were in Hamdan. That doesn’t really count as representing yourself, right?”

“Well,” said Marci, “honestly, you’ll have a fool for a client anyway. But that doesn’t change that they don’t have the right to do this to her, or to any of them. And if you happen to know any family or close friends of any of her fellow three inmates? I’d like to have a word with them.”

“Don’t you have Mrs. Wilson’s contact information from that time?” Cheryl gave Foggy a meaningful look. Of course, there’d long been a story going around the firm that Daredevil had asked his pair of lawyer acquaintances to give their Avenger friend a call when he’d wanted to work with them. The version that included him dramatically stalking Matt was one Foggy tried to encourage.

“Woah, Sam Wilson’s married?” Marci looked stunned. “I admit, I’ve never really followed the Avengers…”

“No,” replied an unimpressed Cheryl. “Darlene Wilson is his mother. I met her once. She’s a good woman. Much nicer than you.”

“Lots of people are much nicer than me,” shrugged Marci. “It’s okay; I’m going to be there to help her.”

“Well!” While Foggy had been distracted, Sasha had gotten her own phone out, and Foggy could now hear the video playing from it. “You know what, Ms. Foggy? I’m not taking any plea bargains. I won’t give an inch to Thaddeus Ross. I want to drag him into court and make clear I have every right to be outraged at him.”

“That’s not really your job, you know,” Marci pointed out to her. “You’ve got the perfect right to save your own skin.”

“No, it is my job. I’m going to make it my job, because it’s the right thing to do.” There was definitely a little bit of a sneer at Marci in there, though Sasha was wrong if she thought it was going to bother her any.

“Well, if you want,” she shrugged, then said to Foggy, “I’m actually not doing this sheerly out of ideals, by the way. I’m also looking to raise my profile and put a crowning achievement on my resume, and also get one over Hogarth. All while being the good guy, even.”

“Guess we don’t have to doubt your sincerity, then,” replied Cheryl, who was already leaning over Foggy’s desktop, looking for the email address.

Sasha was looking at her very disdainfully, and while she knew Marci wouldn’t care, Foggy didn’t want to hear it. “Look,” she said to her, “before you say anything else in front of a lawyer that’s not yours, why don’t you go home right now, think about everything, see if you still feel the same way about all of this tomorrow morning. Cheryl, we’ve got most of that free, right?”

“Are you really going to have it free?” asked Sasha. “Sounds to me like you’re about to become a much busier woman.”

“You’re still my client; I’ll find time for you. Besides, I can do most of the immediate paperwork and other things tonight.”

“Found Mrs. Wilson’s email address,” Cheryl announced. “Sorry we don’t have her phone number.”

“I’ll ask her for it,” said Marci, as Cheryl wrote it out on a post-it and handed it to her. “Hey, Foggy, do you want to grab dinner with me tonight so we can coordinate plans? Invite Matt, maybe, since he’ll probably want in on this?”

“Good idea,” said Foggy. “You good for eight?”

Marci was, and when Sasha too had her next meeting scheduled in, Foggy managed to get her to depart after five more minutes or so, Marci having headed back to her own office already. By then Cheryl had already loaded something else up on Foggy’s computer: “Gitmo habeas petitions, the ones filed for the detainees once they got their lawyers. You know I read through ten of these things? They really do all say the same thing.”

A Little Later

It was past six when Foggy finally got home. Matt had agreed to come to dinner, and not needing to cook it had led to his taking a nap; she could hear his steady breathing coming from the bedroom. She might have to skip a shower, she thought, to avoid waking him up.

Except maybe he really had needed to catch up on the heavier sleep, she thought a moment later, when the sight of the coffee table brought her up short. When she’d gone to work that morning, it had been covered with several old receipts, three different folders, two hers, one Matt’s, and some papers related to her painkiller prescription. Now, all of those were carefully piled up on one end, and where they had previously sprawled, there lay two documents, set out neatly next to each other.

One of them was in braille. Foggy picked up the other one and read: I, Natalia Alionovna Romanova, next friend on behalf of Mr. Clinton Francis Barton, hereby authorize Mr. Matthew Michael Murdock to act as counsel on behalf of Mr. Barton in the state of New York and anywhere else where he is licensed to practice law.

It was less than an hour ago Foggy had officially filed suit against the President demanding habeas for Wanda. It wasn’t even public knowledge yet, though she had texted Karen to tell her it was done. But of course Natasha had probably guessed that was what they were doing, and that it would be Foggy acting on Wanda’s behalf, and thus Matt who was available for Clint.

She woke her husband up with the braille copy. He was able to confirm Romanov had been there by smell, though it took him about a minute. “She has the least scent of anyone I’ve ever met,” he commented. “Unnerving, really.”

The third petition was newly filed when they walked into the restaurant Marci had chosen. Thankfully not too upscale this time, though she had deliberately picked a place with no TVs in it. Foggy did one last check of the news on her phone right before they went in, and found no real further developments. A few more people had commented, and the government still hadn’t.

They told Marci just after sitting down at the table she’d already grabbed. “Oh, you poor things,” she sighed. “You do realize as soon as you reveal how you came into possession of that note they’re going to show up at your apartment with a search warrant.”

“We’ll be prepared,” said Foggy, trying to make it sound light. It was okay, she told her hammering heart. Matt could go out right after this and find someone to keep his costume safe until after they’d come and gone. They had more than enough allies, now, for things like that.

“Anyway,” Marci continued, “I’ve asked around at HC & B, and I don’t think we’re going to find our fourth lawyer there. But I’ve emailed some of my other friends, and I think Jennifer might be willing to join us. You remember Jennifer Walters? Was in our Civil Procedure class second year, might or might not have been related to Bruce Banner? Owned that piece of snot…what was his name? Thomas? I don’t remember. But she owned him in class that one time, I remember that.”

“Yeah, I remember her,” said Foggy. “She went back to LA, didn’t she?”

“Well, the two of us still email each other sometimes. She even asked me after the whole Fisk thing happened if I wanted to find a job in LA, though I don’t think she was that serious about it. But ten minutes after I’d sent a bunch of people emails telling them I was suing Ross for habeas, she emailed me back asking if all four prisoners had lawyers yet. I’ve told her Scott Lang doesn’t have one. I think the guy’s native to San Francisco, so she’s someone who can represent him immediately, if his case starts in California. Speaking of which, do we even have any idea what state Barton was a legal resident of? Wilson became a legal resident of New York last summer, and it’s the only State Maximoff’s ever lived in.”

“Romanov really should’ve told us that,” Foggy sighed.

“Actually, that whole thing is strange,” said Matt. “I’ve started looking for any record of what Barton’s been up to since he apparently stepped down from the Avengers about a year ago. So far, it’s looking like he went completely into the wind. I mean, I haven’t looked very far yet, but there are no accounts of anyone ever seeing him. The guy’s been an Avenger since the start; that doesn’t happen with any of them. They show up in any town and show their face in public, and someone tweets. Every time. It’s especially true with Rogers. I could tell you what towns that guy’s been in for half the time for the four years that have passed since they fished him out of the Arctic. But it’s true for all of them. There were plenty of Clint Barton sightings before his retirement.”

“Still,” said Foggy, trying to ward off the uncomfortable thought they now all had to be thinking, “he’s probably the least descript of all of them. If he wanted to live quietly, he might have be making maximum efforts to go unnoticed. I mean, many of the jobs and skills listed in his S.H.I.E.L.D. file are the kind that would have required him to be really good at that.”

“I don’t know,” said Marci. “I mean, when you consider we had two other Avengers vanish off the face of the Earth at the same time, and only one of them had a home to go to in another dimension or whatever Asgard’s supposed to be in…”

“You really think,” asked Matt, “that my client, Bruce Banner, and Thor were up on some top-secret mission that is still something nobody knows about? Even though he showed up in Germany accompanied by neither Banner-in either form-or Thor? Even though two of the original Avengers publicly expressed their support for the Accords and willingness to cooperate with the authorities, and as far as we know haven’t breathed a word about this to any of them? One of whom is close enough to Barton she’s now claiming next friend status for him?”

“I think,” said Marci, “that so long as it’s even a possibility, it’s also a problem. Especially if they’ve been interrogating the poor guy in that prison and he’s refused to give any information up.”

“That is all too possible,” said Foggy, as another ugly thought hit her: “You know, by all accounts, Ross is kind of obsessed with tracking down the Green Guy. If he thinks Barton knows where he is…”

The thought that Ross could be interrogating Clint Barton at that very moment, taking out his rage over the leak in ways that probably stretched international law at best, demanding information the man might or might not even have, was a sobering one. Foggy thought about their history from as little as ten years ago, and wondered if her country would ever again be what it was supposed to be.

“If he is doing anything to him,” Matt finally said, “and we get out hands on even the slightest shred of evidence about it, then I will make Ross pay for it, one way or the other.”

His voice was dangerously low on that last one, and Foggy wished she could be sure whether he meant that as himself, or as Daredevil.

“Yeah, give him hell,” Marci agreed; she had no idea, of course. “We wreck his image enough, maybe our likely next president will decide against keeping him on after all. I think that really would be a terrible punishment for him. Banish him to Fox News.”

“Banish them all to Fox News,” Matt chimed in, which made Marci smile. The wicked one, which Foggy refused to believe his senses couldn’t somehow detect, and oh no, Matt and Marci on those rare occasions when they combined forces were even worse than Matt and Karen when they did. That they were joking in this particular instance didn't meant they would be on the next one. How could Foggy have thought this a good idea?

“Worse,” she was saying. “Banish them all to talk radio. We’ll file a joint motion as soon as we figure out the justification. Never have to see any of their ugly mugs again. Seriously, Murdock, you have no idea how much you can become repulsed by those, am I right, Foggy?”

“I’m not cooperating with you two,” Foggy said immediately, because really, she had to.

Unfortunately, Matt was smiling back, and saying, “Then do we really want to float the suggestion that Ross be forced to hide his? The government might realize we’re giving up a valuable weapon and not oppose us.”

“Oh, Ross won’t let them do that,” shrugged Marci. “Men like him always have way too much of an ego to allow such slights. Though the real question, I suppose,” and she got a little more serious here, “is just how much of an ego does he have, and how much nerve? Would he have the nerve to…to use enhanced interrogation techniques on a group of superheroes, and the ego to not do a very good job of hiding it?”

She sounded almost excited, as if she wouldn’t mind such a crime being committed, so long as she could be involved in making the perpetrator pay for it. Foggy remembered words she’d once said to Matt, but at least he’d never been that. “We shouldn’t rely on that,” she forced herself to say. “And remember, we already have one abuse of Wanda on video, and I’d really rather we get that one stopped as soon as possible.”

“Any other motions?” Marci asked. “I want to compel Stark to testify in person. How do you think he would react to that?” Her grin came back.

So did Matt’s, as he said, “Hey, he was the one who was talking on the news about wanting to be more open. Which makes me wonder why we still don’t know who that Spider-Man in Queens is; seriously, does even the government know? Or is Stark allowed to know in their place?”

“Well, that would be technically legal under the Accords, if he was under sixteen,” said Foggy, because that was one provision, at least, put into place to protect very young Inhumans. “But would Stark have really dragged him to battle other superheroes in Germany if he were that young? Even when Stark was a weapons-dealing asshole, he wasn’t that kind of asshole.”

“No,” Marci agreed, “just the kind of asshole that doesn’t see the laws as applying to him even when he’s actively advocating for them.” She was undisputedly right in a way, even if they couldn’t exactly tell her that. “Who else do we call? I suppose Romanov would be kind of complicated, now, and from what I can tell of events, I think Rhodes may honestly not have much testimony to give. The robot, though, definitely. And then there's the new King of Wakanda.”

“No way he’s in the country,” said Foggy. “Probably never came here, just gave his statements in Germany and then flew directly home. I mean, doesn’t a new King always have work to do at home, anyway? Even a figurehead would be kept busy, and from what I’ve read of Wakandan law, he isn’t just that. And we could certainly never force him to come back if he didn’t want to.”

"So if the judge tried to compel him,” said Matt, “that could abate proceedings.”

“You’ll want to wait on it,” sighed Marci, and she didn’t really sound like she even disagreed. “Unless he suddenly does come here. Which honestly wouldn’t surprise me at this point. It’s the Avengers, after all. Sometimes it’s felt like crazy things happen in relation to them every other week.”

“And more than that recently,” Foggy agreed. “Seriously, guys, where do you think we’ll be at this time tomorrow?”

“Worry about it then,” Marci replied. “Make our plans now.”

Chapter Text

At a little past eight the following evening, the three of them were being escorted into a special room in a building in Fort Hamilton, having been obliged to lock their phones up before entering. Foggy stole a glance at Matt’s face and spotted the momentary disorientation; room was definitely soundproofed. It made her very glad indeed nobody had had the gall to deprive a blind man of his cane when he happened to be a lawyer, though she had seen two of the soldiers escorting them eye it so far.

The morning had been predictable enough. Sasha had come in her mind unchanged, but at least all the day’s business related to her had been taken care of by lunch. Just after it, Jennifer Walters had called Marci to tell her she had decided to take Lang’s case, and she thought she might be able to get in contact with his girlfriend. She and Matt had both had brief conversations with her themselves, and she was much as Foggy remembered her, friendly, but very business-like, and clearly very driven and determined.

It had also been around lunchtime that the FBI had showed up at their apartment. Luckily by then Matt’s costume, escrima sticks, and billy-club had been safely stashed away in Jessica’s apartment. Matt had been at home to greet them, and he had even been able to be more truthful than not in answering their questions. After all, he genuinely did have no knowledge of exactly how Romanov has managed the break-in. His being blind had probably helped them believe him, and he’d since gotten a chance to tell Foggy that they did.

She was uncomfortably aware that had they known about his supersenses, even if some of them might have been willing to believe that Natasha Romanov could elude even his ears enough to not wake him up, they probably would have insisted otherwise, and arrested him. People with superpowers weren’t being given the benefit of the doubt anymore. Once, in the aftermath of the Incident, Foggy had hoped Matt might be willing to come out and be open with the world about his gifts. Now she was thankful he hadn’t.

They’d finally left after nearly five hours, by which time all three lawyers had multiple press interviews and similar scheduled for the next few days, but none that night. With all three habeas lawsuits now announced by the press, it had, unfortunately, been very easy for Ross to officially refuse to comment on anything; they’d have to wait for what the government’s lawyers said. Stark Industries had issued a statement talking mostly about beefing up their security, to the point that Foggy, Cheryl, and Marci had all laughed as their first reaction to reading it, the first two even more so.

So Foggy had arrived home thinking the day’s excitement was over. But then, less than an hour after the FBI’s departure according to Matt, another set of men with official power and also guns came knocking at their door, conveying the kind of request for interviews they couldn’t really refuse. They themselves were not necessarily suspected of any wrongdoing, their leader had gone so far to say, which had made clear to them that something had happened they hadn’t been briefed about yet.

Foggy’s stomach was growling as she sat down, Matt on one side and Marci on the other, in front of a large desk, their escorts remaining behind them. She hadn’t had much for lunch, or eaten a thing since then.

The man on the other side of the desk wasn’t anyone familiar. He appeared young, wore a suit so smooth and elegant Mr. Chao would’ve turned green with envy, and had very cold eyes. “Good evening,” he said, “Mr. Murdock, Ms. Nelson, Ms. Stahl. My name is John Pulworth. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask the three of you a few questions, and it is very much in the interest of national security if you are cooperative.”

His tone was so oily Foggy knew Matt wouldn’t take it, even before he said, “Sir, I believe we could waste a little less time if the three of us established a thing or two immediately, at least if Ms. Nelson and Ms. Stahl both agree with me on them. I am sure they will agree with me on the first, which is that, right now, or, in fact, ever, there is absolutely nothing you could get us to prioritize over our ethical obligations to our clients, am I right?” They both nodded their agreement; that was an easy one.

Matt allowed the sort of beat to pass that indicated he was about to go into the non-violent version of his “I am going to inflict as much pain on you as is possible and feel righteous about it” mode. Then he continued, “And while I am aware my two companions may not agree with me on this second one, I am currently extremely skeptical of any claims from you, or anyone else currently attached to the United States government, that I should just take your word for it that doing what you want is necessary for ‘national security.’ I believe we have all heard that phrase bandied about far too much in the past decade and a half. There is currently a presidential candidate threatening to do things in the name of it that would hurt this country far more than those you claim to be protecting us from ever could…”

“Well, that has to be disputed,” Pulworth semi-sneered, “given we’re now certainly in the opening stages of a war with superheroes.”

“A war?!” Foggy burst out. “Is that the excuse you’re going to use for your unlawful imprisonment of four of the Avengers? How did they get into a war with us?! One battle with a few international police officers and another one with each other does not qualify as a war, sir, especially not with us.”

But he replied, with a gleam of triumph in his eyes, “That’s not all there is now, Ms. Nelson. Hours ago, Mr. Rogers broke into a government detention facility and freed his four fellow rogue superheroes, including the ones the three of you currently purport to represent. Now they are a group that have set themselves against the United States of America, and you must admit they have always qualified as a non-state actor, that have now committed an act of war.”

Marci looked genuinely stunned. Matt betrayed no reaction. Foggy herself couldn’t help but reel a little as her mind tried to adjust to the sudden turn of events. She couldn’t say she was surprised, though. There was a reason she’d thought of their reaction to this possibility.

If he thought anything of how they had reacted to the news, Pulworth gave no sign of it. “So you see,” he said, “if you’ve had any communications with your clients, even if it only told us that they have no further hostile intent towards the United States or our allies,” meaningful tone, no doubt trying to drop a lure, “you would do a great service towards your country. Especially if they’re from Mr. Rogers, whom I believe none of you are representing. Or if their next friends have told you anything.”

“No,” said Foggy, seeing their chance there: “If you thought the escape of our clients from your custody ends the lawsuit, even though they are now forced to choose between unlawful imprisonment or dangerous exile, well, you really don’t know much about how this works, Mr. Pulworth. We can not be obligated to reveal anything that might potentially weaken our case, including our strategy, and that covers all communications with our clients and all their associates.” That might not keep them out of trouble if their communications with Stark were ever found out, but she and Matt could at least rest easy ethically.

“Of course,” Marci added, “I hope you will believe that we would have said to whoever spoke to us about jailbreaking, ‘Don’t do it.’” At least, though, she didn’t claim they would’ve meant it.

“So,” Pulworth’s tone turned dangerous, “it sounds to me like I can’t even be sure you did not know.”

"It doesn’t sound to me,” said Matt, “like you really believe we had any idea of it, but are hoping to intimidate us into breaking privilege.” Foggy knew what he was listening to, of course. And Marci, like Karen before she’d known, had gotten the impression Matt had a knack for detecting lies, and looked like she believed his words.

“So,” he said, “you refuse to cooperate?”

“Given the way you’re treating us like criminals?” said Marci. “If we weren’t invoking privilege, we’d still be justified in invoking our Fifth Amendment rights.”

Still, there was one thing Foggy really wanted to have certainty of, so she threw in, “Besides, you don’t really think Captain America is going to go attacking the country he was once all ready to die for, and for no good reason at all? You don’t have any reason to think that now that he’s got his friends freed, he’s going to do anything besides just lie low?”

“Ms. Nelson, the man is a traitor,” Pulworth sneered. “Which we certainly never thought Captain America would be. None of us can presume to have any idea of what’s going on his head, or what move he’s going to take next. His mind might have even taken a turn from sanity; who knows what seventy years in an unnatural coma might have done to it.”

Foggy didn’t really absorb most of what he said after the first sentence. The way he’d just said it, about a man who probably respected America and what it was supposed to stand for a thousand times more than he did, just felt so wrong. It brought her back to a night at Josie’s, watching Fisk on TV, shamelessly manipulating a murder he’d engineered to further his advantage. She’d had the same hopeless feeling then, of the world just being wrong.

Most of her was terrified about what Karen would do with that quote when she inevitably got her hands on it. A small part was hopeful about that instead.

Matt’s rage never froze him like that, of course. It usually smoldered below the surface instead, Matt remaining smooth and continuing on, until such time as he could get his fists on something. That was what it was doing now, as he coldly replied, “If all you have left in you in the twisted version of the truth by which your boss justified his unlawful acts, sir, then this meeting is over. Unless you intend to detain us?”

A jab of terror ran through Foggy that this man might intend just that. But he only sneered a very threatening, “Not at this time, Mr. Murdock. Mr. Richter, escort our visitors out of the base. Use the fastest route.”

Outside, as soon as Marci turned her phone on, it chimed. “Mrs. Wilson called me,” she said. “They’ve probably just ambushed her. I told her already she doesn’t answer anyone’s questions without me there; I hope she listened. I’d better head off.”

So they parted just outside the base, and when they were alone, Matt whispered to Foggy, “There’s a French restaurant a couple of blocks from here, one of the cleanest ones I’ve ever caught a whiff of in this city.”

Foggy wasn’t going to object, and it turned out to not even be quite as expensive as she initially feared. Plus they were in a booth that was a little smaller than was strictly comfortable, but also in a quiet corner, where Matt felt comfortable leaning forward just a little bit, nose to Foggy’s hair like he was just being an affectionate husband, and whisper things nobody was going to try to overhear.

Like, “He didn’t believe that Rogers is a traitor. He did believe the rest of it, or at the very least had convinced himself he did.”

“That’s comforting, I suppose,” said Foggy. “I mean, he was obviously the sort of guy who’ll parrot whatever his evil boss proclaims and for the most part be absolutely convinced that he’s doing right by advancing his agenda. Even when he does things he might otherwise swear are utterly unjustifiable-and he’ll blast the other side for doing them even after he’s done them, of course.”

There was a brief pause as they both contemplated how many such more people they were likely to run into. Ross probably preferred them.

“I don’t know if that comforts me,” said Matt. “I know what you’re thinking, that if that sort of man isn’t going to buy his boss’ bullshit, that means a lot of people won’t. But the thing he was most certain of was the possibility of Rogers not being right in the head. That’s a classic tactic of authorities for dismissing dissent, especially when it comes from people they’re nervous about villainizing. If Wanda had remained in the Raft and you’d had to motion to get her out of the straitjacket, the government would have almost certainly claimed she had to be in it because she’d lost her mind. That accusation’s dogged her since she and Pietro first ran into the Avengers.”

“Oh, Wanda,” Foggy sighed, wishing the news of her being out of the Raft could make her feel better. “Now I’m wondering where she is right now. Is anywhere in the world even going to take them in?”

“Hey,” Matt already had his face against hers; all he had to do was lay his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be fine so long as she’s with Rogers. He’s not going to let anything happen to any of them if he can help it. I’ve fought alongside three of them, remember, who can take care of themselves, and I’m pretty sure Barton can too. Also, if there’s one thing I’m sure of about Rogers? He’ll do *anything* for someone he cares about. Probably for his men as a commander, too, or women, as the case may be.”

“He’s a good man. A good man.” He was nearly whispering it, yet there was a hardness to his voice too.

“Oh, that he certainly is,” said Foggy, because he was. And at least Matt was sticking to the details about this debate the two of them could agree on.

The news about the breakout from the Raft broke right after the waiter took their orders. They both got texts from Karen informing them so, and asking if that was what the scary people who’d dragged them out to Fort Hamilton had wanted to talk to them about, since she had known they’d been escorted there. Foggy ended up calling her, her and Matt’s heads still close enough he might have listened in easily even with normal hearing. “Marci’ll probably give you a statement on behalf of herself and Mrs. Wilson sometime tomorrow. She has a few more people to eviscerate tonight first; she doesn’t have time for the media.”

Karen laughed at that; she might have even been a little relieved. “And you two?”

“Nice try. You’ll get a statement crafted with forethought and on a full stomach and you’ll like it. We might even give you different ones.” She and Matt hadn’t really talked about how much of this they were going to do together yet. “But of course neither of us have anyone to consult with for them, so…we’ll try to get our words to you by bedtime, if you want. I think Jennifer probably will too, especially since it’s earlier in the day for her anyway.”

“The sooner, the better, as always. Although rumor’s currently flying through the office that Ross is going to make a speech in an hour or so. You two might want to eat quickly.”

Too much to hope for he'd keeping hiding behind his lawyers at this point, Foggy supposed. But the timing was annoying; she’d wanted to be able to eat in peace, after enduring his minion, without having to endure him too.

“Text me if you hear anything definite?” Foggy asked her, and Karen agreed, before saying, “I’ll leave you to your dinner, then. Be sure to tell me if it’s any good, and if that restaurant’s worth however much it costs, just in case I end up being in that area myself.”

It was. Foggy was sure of that from the moment she took her first bite of her beef bourguignon, even before she saw the expression on Matt’s face as he tasted his fish. With his unfortunate tendency to taste even the slightest of contaminants, especially in restaurant dishes, it took a lot of skill to make him look like that. It wasn’t unlike watching him have an orgasm, and on those occasions when the Catholic guilt wasn’t hindering him too much.

Between that, and finally getting to eat when she really had been hungry, Foggy was in far too good a mood when the text arrived from Karen. Ross will be speaking in twenty minutes. When she’d relayed it to Matt, he said, “the bar next door has just turned to CNN. It’s loud enough you might even be able to hear it from the ladies’ room.”

They were nearly done eating by then, and regretfully Foggy agreed they could skip dessert and call for the check. It took an eternity to get it, though, and the waitress hadn’t brought Foggy’s credit card back when it was scheduled to start. So Foggy did indeed go to the ladies room, which was at the end of the restaurant adjacent to the bar. When she closed the door behind her, Ross’ voice came in clear through the bathroom’s tiny window:

“…that Captain America would think himself so above the law, but perhaps we should not have been surprised, since right here in New York, we have seen plenty of evidence that it’s not only him. Ask anyone in Manhatten, and they’ll probably know somebody dead because of the actions of a superhero or vigilante. After years of enduring these people, it is clear that as a group they have no respect for authority, for proper law and order, for anything that might hinder them. Even the exceptions cannot be relied upon. When we first heard of the break-in at the Raft, as you might imagine, we immediately called Tony Stark. I am still trying to get him to give us a straight explanation as to why he was completely unavailable for contact, and I’m starting to doubt I’ll get one.

It is now too clear to me that we, the people of the world, have been too soft on those among us with superpowers. We let ourselves get taken in by sob stories, people claiming to be afraid of their own abilities,” the scorn in his voice was scarcely believable, “people who insisted they would never do anything but good. It was easy to let them deal with the aliens, let them deal with Hydra-even when several of them failed to notice it had taken over their own organization, let them deal with the robots who were their own creation. We see now where that’s gotten us. With five criminals at large, two of them possessing powers with which they could probably do whatever they like to us.

Well, we won’t make that mistake again. Thanks to the Sokovia Accords, we will soon have identified every last person who’s a threat to us, and we’ll be keeping an eye on all of them. And they want to blow up buildings or even entire cities in the name of the greater good, they’ll need to get permission first. Soon, nobody will need to worry about their neighbor suddenly gaining the ability to walk through their walls, damage their property, even injure them with a glance…”

Foggy couldn’t stand to listen to him anymore. She left the bathroom on shaking legs, staggering back to the table where Matt sat, fists clenched and body rigid, probably wanting very badly to throw something. “It’s…” she started.

“It’s only getting worse,” he growled. “He’s urging people to report their neighbors, classmates, students, that so long as the Avengers remain at large, anyone with superpowers is likely a sympathizer with them and should have their communications be monitored, and now…he’s citing all the instances where Inhumans being attacked have had to defend themselves and insisting there are too many of them to be true.” And when they’d both of them had multiple such Inhumans as clients, all of whom Matt had confirmed as telling the truth.

“Oh, now he’s going after Jessica and Luke,” he sighed as Foggy silently sat herself down next to him. “Seriously, he’s saying that about Harlem’s hero…I’m pretty sure that phrase is racist code…and that is outright misogynist…”

The waitress had brought the card back, and Foggy forced herself to concentrate enough to calculate the tip and sign her name. They could leave now, but that wouldn’t help Matt escape having to hear things that Foggy was rapidly getting the impression had gone beyond horrible into downright shocking to hear from the U.S. Secretary of State.

Except then he shook his head, and said, “No, he shouldn’t talk about that, he knows nothing about that, how did he even when the police didn’t even file a report…”

Foggy shot her hand out for his, needing the support then just as much as he did. The memories were still raw for the both of them, that Matt had nearly been left behind in that basement, that he would’ve been had the child Black Sky he’d been trying to save not started climbing up the elevator shaft, causing Matt to chase him out. And yet the thing that haunted him the most was he had lost track of that boy, and had no idea whether he’d even gotten out of the building itself. Though that they hadn’t found his body made it likely he enough that he had.

“He’s trying to throw suspicion on every mysterious explosion and accident that’s happened for the past year.” Matt let out a slight laugh; he was sounding a little crazed. “Apparently there have been issues on the DC metro that have been going on for longer, and they’ve even *admitted* it’s because of negligence and are going to spent the next year shutting down parts of it to fix it, but he’s still trying to insinuate that it’s all a coverup.”

“He really thinks anyone would claim such negligence as a cover story?” sighed Foggy. “I thought everyone knew that’s the kind of shit that *gets* covered up. I’d believe a story about someone superpowered being at fault to be the cover story.” It probably had been somewhere or other by now.

“I think he’s wrapping up,” said Matt, but he didn’t sound too relieved about that. “And he finishes off with a veiled shot at our habeas lawsuits. At least he hasn’t singled us out by names, but…”

Foggy’s phone pinged. The text was from Marci this time: We’re demanding Ross’ resignation. Joint statement. No, your husband is not allowed to object either. I’ll email Jennifer.

When she read that out loud to Matt, he just nodded and said, “Good idea, but which of us drafts it? I think you’d better do it, since she still has her other people to have words with, and Jennifer didn’t endure what we did this evening-unless they’re going after her right now, which of course they could very easily be doing.”

“And you?” Foggy asked, very quietly, simply to get his answer out loud.

He said, even more softly, “I’m worried about how much danger all four of us will be in tonight. I wish Jennifer was in town, instead of all the way on the other side of the country, where none of us can do much to help her. I don’t need to go far from our apartment, thankfully, to be in hearing range of Marci’s, though Mrs. Wilson lives all the way up in Harlem. I want to visit Luke as soon as I can manage; he’ll look after her.”

“Who are you afraid would target us?” Foggy asked. “The CIA? Watchdogs? Other right-wing crazies? Or are you just being generally paranoid?”

When Matt didn’t respond, Foggy was left pretty sure it was the last one. “Look,” she said, “maybe you’re not entirely wrong to be paranoid. Hell, going to talk to Luke about anyone in Harlem connected with Sam Wilson is probably a good idea. But who’s going to come for us as early as tonight? If Ross had that kind of nerve, we’d already be in handcuffs. Those who are afraid of superheroes…well, if you wanted to go out to protect Inhumans and such from them, that would be a very heroic thing for you to do, but their priority will be attacking them, not us.”

“You’re probably right,” Matt sighed. “Still…”

They rose from the table at last, and Foggy took stock of how he moved, how tightly he took hold of his cane. “I get it,” she said to him, very softly. “You’re restless. You can’t punch anyone responsible for this, and you hate that, and if you tried taking your feelings out on the available acceptable targets, we’d have nothing left intact in the apartment within a week.”

“It would be a bad idea to go after them even if I could get away with it,” said Matt. “They’d use anything Daredevil did to them to further gain public sympathy. I know that.”

That was a remarkable amount of thinking ahead for Matt. “We need to be smart,” she said. “Wait for them to show their true colors. If it’ll make you feel better, we can go see Luke right now; I can work on the statement while you two talk.” She called Marci when they were out of the restaurant, who quite happily agreed to let her do the writing. As she hung up, she wondered briefly how they would explain Luke Cage getting involved if he did end up having to do anything for Mrs. Wilson. Maybe she wouldn’t ask. Maybe she’d figure he’d heard about it and decided to intervene on his own.

So that was how Foggy found herself sitting at Luke and Claire’s table with the latter while their two men talked. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this kind of drafting on her phone, but it still made her feel better to have it on a wooden surface before her. Claire initially tried to get a look at what she was writing, but after a meaningful look, she stopped, and after that mostly seemed to be paying attention to the men.

Matt and Luke were now getting along well, so unsurprisingly, they lingered. Foggy thought she heard Luke ask if Matt had seen Jessica. So she had time to finish the draft, and even do an initial rewrite, despite the pain she found that to be on the phone, and even send it to Marci and Jennifer for comments. It was a pity Matt would be last to hear it, but serve him right for talking to Luke this long, when it was late, and she was tired and sad, and just wanted to spend an hour or so cuddling with him at home.

When she’d put her phone away, Claire looked at her. “Sorry,” she said. “But attorney work product…”

“I know,” said Claire. “You know I read a little bit about habeas corpus tonight? Thought I’d better keep up with the conversation around me. I mean, now that I’m even working in a hospital owned by a superhero, I really have to give up on escaping them.”

“Well, you’re at least partly used to it already, right?” said Foggy. “Although let me warn you right now, actually getting romantically involved with a superhero is completely different from just sidekicking for them on occasion. And having to hide out in a precinct, and cope with someone’s arm having just gotten sliced off on scene-well, okay, I’ve never done that second one yet. But it’s really just the start of it. Though you did kind of get hit with the brunt of things early in the relationship.”

“I believe it,” said Claire. There was an uncertainty in her voice, a lack of confidence of a type Foggy had never heard from her before. “Still, it is good to have a place where I can patch superheroes up as they need, without worry about what the boss will think. I’ve even been talking with Danny about protecting identities, making it a safe place. Of course those Accords don’t make it easy, though I think he’s managed to get an audience with Jeri about it, and, well, I hope we can have your and Matt’s help too, if we ever need it.”

“Hey,” Foggy said, taking her hand. “You know you’ll always have that. We owe it to you anyway, but even if we didn’t.”

Chapter Text

“So,” Jennifer Many was saying, “A couple of hours ago, the White House issued a statement saying it was ‘deeply concerned’ about Secretary Ross’ words, and is ‘considering’ what actions are appropriate.” She kept her voice all too neutral. “What have you two got to say to that?”

It was the afternoon after the breakout and Ross’ response, and Foggy was still feeling shaken to the core. She doubted she was the only one. She and Matt were with the reporter in her office, and she thought it would’ve been easier to do this interview if the world had started feeling real again.

Or if Karen had been the one doing it. But she’d explained over again how journalists had their ethics, just like lawyers did, and so someone else had to do this one. Foggy wasn’t sure exactly how well Karen kept to those ethics, but hey, she almost certainly did more than Matt did to theirs. They understood, of course, but it still made this a lot harder.

She also wished Marci was there to do that question proper justice. But she was off doing her first interview with a Harlem reporter, her client’s mother alongside her. So she and Matt touched each other’s hands, and he flicked his fingers, and tilted his head when she looked at it.

She briefly considered just how vicious she wanted to be, and settled for, “Well, I’ve always thought our current President was a bit of a coward, but I would’ve thought he would’ve done the right thing in this case.”

Many honestly looked a little shocked when the word “coward” came out. It wasn’t really the done thing to use it to describe Matthew Ellis anymore. It had been used all the time during his first term, but after he’d nearly been dropped into flames on live TV, there’d been the feeling the insult ought to be retired.

But Foggy continued, “I’m sorry, but I can call him nothing else. This situation should be in black and white. Ross should’ve been out of a job before midnight last night. He should have been out of a job as soon as that footage leaked, and the President should be before a Congressional committee right now, answering questions about how he let one of his men imprison four people, three of them American citizens, without trial, lawyers, or even disclosure to the public of where they were. That they haven’t called him before one is cowardice on their part too.”

“Ms. Nelson,” said Many, now looking all too intrigued, “are you insinuating that there was a conspiracy within the Ellis Administration related to this?”

“Well, there had to be,” said Matt. “An operation like the…like what’s been exposed takes the coordinated effort of a lot of people. It’s possible, maybe that President Ellis was not aware what was going on, but if they were keeping this from him, then there is even more question about why he hasn’t disowned the Secretary of State yet. There are a lot of questions we don’t have answers to.”

“Are you hoping to achieve that as well for your clients?”

“It would be nice if we could,” said Foggy. “I think they’d like to know, although of course since we can’t get into contact with them right now, we can only guess at that. Our priority, of course, is getting them able to come home without their being locked up in a secret hole out in the middle of the ocean.”

“Aren’t you worried they might refuse to come here?” Many asked. “After all, there’s little dispute they’ve violated international law themselves, and while certainly it should be lawfully, and fairly, they may still find themselves under arrest.”

“If we are satisfied that their lives will not be at risk,” said Foggy, “and we get the chance to communicate with them, we will of course urge them to turn themselves in. And I think they themselves would willingly come back and do so if they were convinced they would be treated fairly, though I don’t know how the government could get them to believe that as long as Secretary Ross remains part of it, especially when the Attorney General is oddly silent. And even the Secretary of Defense is; if this was truly a war situation, one would expect him to speak, after all.”

“Are you worried their lives might be at risk, then?” There was the kind of glint in Many’s eyes that made Foggy think she was hoping for a yes.

Which got her to stop and think, before Matt ended up answering first. “I don’t think at this point anyone actually wants them dead. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have to worry. One thing we’ve noticed in general in recent months, and the Sokovia Accords reflect this, is a general disregard for the basic safety and wellbeing for superpowered individuals. There seems to be an assumption they can stand any abuse thrown at them, and no thought of how those abuses might interact with their gifts, and when in most case no one knows much about how those powers are affecting their bodies and their health. That straitjacket was obviously suppressing Ms. Maximoff’s powers, and we have no idea what even the amount of time she spent in it did to her.

And of course in recent weeks we’ve started to see a group of armed terrorists roam the streets and murder Inhumans, and nobody seems to be doing much about that even when they blew up a government compound. Imagine what would’ve happened in response had an Islamic group done such a thing. Even a more normal white right-wing group doing it probably would have resulted in arrests. There is a clear message being sent that anyone can do anything they like to someone superpowered without consequences. Consequences exist only for them.” By now Matt was speaking with a passion that made Many look a little surprised. Well, she couldn’t know this was personal for him.

And Foggy very much wanted to lead the conversation away from that vein, so she said, “And in this case, given what kind of rhetoric is being spoken by Ross against our clients, and the fact that it will probably be military people sent to capture them if they’re found, we are worried, yes, that they won’t see taking them alive as the priority. Especially if they’re convinced a fight is inevitable, which of course it might not be. I do hope the government realizes, of course, that if any of our clients is killed by soldiers, and their families wish it, we will pursue redress through any avenue we find open to us.”

There was a knock at the door, and Marci’s voice called, “Foggy? You’ve got a visitor, and one of the type I’m not sure you want to keep waiting too long. Your PA’s entertaining her right now.”

Matt rose very fast to let her in, fast enough that Foggy thought he’d heard and recognized the visitor in question. But Foggy couldn’t think it was any of the Avengers, and surely if it was one of Matt’s newer more local superhero buddies Marci would’ve identified them.

Marci took a look at Many, then said, “I think you might want to finish the interview before she comes in, though.” Definitely someone they didn’t necessarily want the press to know about, then.

There was a moment where Many seemed to consider her options, and what kind of reporter she wanted to be that day. Then she stood up and said, “I actually would like to talk to you, further, Mr. Murdock, of waking up to discover the Black Widow had broken into your apartment, when I understand your wife was at work.”

“Well,” said Matt, “Foggy actually woke me up with the papers; I’d slept a little longer than I’d intended to that day.” He was already walking towards the door, Many following.

“Do you think there’s any chance Ms. Romanov had something to do with that?” Foggy heard her ask as they passed out the door. If Matt had identified his wife’s visitor, he’d no doubt casually stroll the other way.

“I’ll go give her the all clear,” said Marci, and from the way she was now grinning, Foggy was pretty sure she’d recognized the visitor too. As she took her place at her desk, Foggy wondered if it was Vision.

But really, she thought, when Pepper Potts came through the door, that one should’ve been obvious.

“Ms. Potts.” Foggy couldn’t help but smile. All the Avengers had spoken highly of Pepper, and Wanda believed she’d played a huge part in her being admitted into the country even after the Avengers had initially spoken to the U.S. government about how dangerous she was. She knew meeting her just now had probably made Marci’s month, and Foggy couldn’t say she didn’t have some admiration for this smart, powerful woman herself.

She closed the door behind her and said, “I’m afraid the official reason for my being here is currently in dispute. Tony keeps thinking up more and more creative ones to give to the press if we’re ever pushed to. But since you could never give it to them anyway, that’s not your problem, right?”

“Right,” Foggy agreed, but it was harder to keep the smile on, hearing her tone as she talked about Tony Stark. It made her think they had broken up, and it certainly hadn’t been because of her not loving him anymore.

“So,” she came over to Foggy’s desk, grabbing a chair and bringing it over herself before Foggy could get up to do that. “I do have to ask this first: do you have anything to do with what your friend Karen Page has written?”

“Not about Stark, and we’ve got no control over that.” Foggy hastily put up her hands. “Karen does what she wants, writes what she wants, ventures into dangerous places and risks her life for what she wants, and you should see how upset Matt gets about it every time he hears about the last.” The hypocrite, she didn’t add, because she wasn’t one hundred percent sure Pepper knew about that.

“All right, then,” she said. “I thought as much anyway. I mean, I’ve met her.”

Then she said, “So the actual reason I’m here is because I didn’t want to risk putting this conversation on any phone or email lines. I’ll understand completely if you don’t want to tell us this, even if he won’t, but Tony wants to know how much your husband’s likely to go out as his alter ego.”

So she did know. “He doesn’t want any of his help,” Foggy told her. “I don’t think he would, honestly, even if I was inclined to advocate for it, and right now, I’m sorry, but I’m not.” She turned stern on the end of that.

Ms. Potts’ lips didn’t even twitch. “Understood. Though I can’t promise he won’t try to give it, anyway.”

Foggy actually had to chuckle at that. “Do you have any idea how much Stark’s likely to even be in New York City?” she asked.

She shook her head. “I should tell you about that too, because he’s actually been talking about moving upstate completely. Selling the tower, the whole works. I mean, it definitely wouldn’t be tomorrow, even if he did do it. So if you were hoping we’ll get out of your hair fast, sorry.” The smile was weak, but Foggy was impressed she even tried it when her voice was so heavy. “One thing he does want to do, though, is he wants to make sure you both are always able to contact him no matter what. Allow me to point out to you that you can take that means of contact and never use it.”

“I’m willing to take it,” said Foggy. “Can’t speak for Matt, but I’m smart enough not to turn down the immediate means to a powerful ally when it’s offered. Never know when you might need that, especially when suing the President.”

She thought about it another moment, then decided to go forward with it: “Also, Ms. Potts, I would like you to know, if you yourself ever want to talk to me, for any reason at all, I will be happy to make myself available.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was unexpectedly soft, a hint of vulnerability. She bent down to reach into her purse, and took possibly longer than she needed poking about in it before pulling out a card. “He gave this to the other Avengers right after the Incident. The number is one only we’ve had, mostly. You call it, our current system will make sure we both know as soon as we can without anyone else finding out.”

It was a pretty innocuous-looking card for Stark. Foggy carefully put it away in her desk. When she looked up after doing so, Pepper Potts was just looking at her with an unreadable expression, and she found herself saying, “For the record, ‘ever’ includes right now.”

“I don’t want you to ask me any questions.”

“No problem,” said Foggy. “I won’t.” After hearing her tone there, she didn’t have to anyway. “I don’t promise I’ll answer yours, but you can ask them.”

“You really might not on this one,” and she let what was left of her composed face fall away completely as she asked, “Did you ever consider leaving him?”

“Sure,” said Foggy. “When he decided to start running around at night in his black pajamas less than a month before our wedding date.” She tried to keep her own voice steady, and hoped dearly Pepper wouldn’t ask if there had been any other times. That one she would have to refuse to answer. Besides, there had been further circumstances the other time she’d been considering it.

But the next question was, “And have you been sorry you didn’t? At times? For long lengths of time?”

That was a surprisingly easy one. “For moments, mostly. The hard ones especially, including the ones where I was convinced he was going to die, and a tiny bit of me was a little relieved at the thought.” Pepper looked shocked at that, but said nothing as Foggy pressed on. “And telling myself he needed me didn’t even help those times. There’s a point where it won’t anymore, once you realize you’re not going to save him.”

“It’s not our job to save them.” She said it as if she was confirming it to herself.

“Exactly. Even if they try to let you, and I think Matt genuinely did try once.”

Ms. Potts closed her eyes. The tabloids had once told a story about how her boyfriend had retired, or tried to anyway, because of her, and Foggy suspected the basic details of that had been true. He’d given her too long to hope, perhaps.

Then she asked, “Does it get easier? Or harder?”

Foggy had to think about that one, and eventually, she just shook her head. “I can’t answer that one when you’re not me, and the man you’re in love with isn’t Matt. When it comes down to it, my answer as relates to Matt and myself varies by day.” She thought about it a little more, then said, “I don’t think the bad nights get worse, but I don’t think they get better either. Maybe there are less of them, though, once you start figuring out your coping strategies. Though I would think…” She stopped herself; that might qualify as a question.

“I would’ve figured them out already?” Ms. Potts finished; thankfully she didn’t sound bothered. “I had ones that used to work better, which, honestly, mostly involved more CEOing. It’s just that…” She seemed to catch herself, unwilling to admit more to someone who was still pretty much a stranger.

Foggy rescued her as best she could with a gentle, “If it’s you that’s changing and feeling different, well, that’s probably a different problem all together, and one I’m not equipped to give you advice on at all. Sorry.”

Would she herself ever change like Pepper Potts might be changing? Maybe she was a little already. Half a year in this place had rubbed off on her vocabulary and way of approaching things; Karen had made her aware of that a few times. She didn’t think Matt would ever stop loving her, or even wanting her, really, and she couldn’t imagine she would ever stop loving him, but could she turn into someone who no longer wanted him?

She had to suppress a shudder at the thought.

But meanwhile, Ms. Potts had managed a smile, one that looked very real and honest, and she said, “Thank you, Ms. Nelson. You’ve helped me a lot.”

“My friends call me Foggy,” she said. “And I think we really should consider each other friends, even if maybe we don’t see each other too often, Ms. Potts. Not that I’d mind if we do, but even if we don’t.”

“Pepper, then.” And they reached out and shook hands on it. “I’ll get back to you if and when I get a better idea of what Tony’s planning to do about the tower. Or anything else happens you two should probably know about.”

Foggy poked her head out the door first, but Cheryl had already been standing watch. “I think Matt got her into Nick Stoll’s old office,” she said. “He looked like he could keep talking for a long while, too.”

Matt, of course, would know once Pepper was safely out and away from the building, so once Foggy had seen her out without incident, she expected him to be done talking soon. Sure enough, ten minutes after she’d returned to her office, she heard their voices in the hall. But they didn’t come in, but instead headed upstairs together, and twenty minutes after that Matt still hadn’t come back.

Had he been listening in? That wouldn’t have been right of him, especially when it had come to Pepper and her privacy, but maybe he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

She was considering calling him, just to make sure he hadn’t gotten distracted enough to step into an open manhole or something, when Karen called her. “I think you should know,” she said. “Jennifer just got back here, and now Ellison’s offended at you on the President’s behalf. I assume you’re smart enough to know that’s a very bad sign.”

“What did she say that got him offended, exactly?” Foggy asked, telling herself she didn’t care either way.

“Just that you’d called Ellis a coward. I’m allowed to tell you off the record I agree with you there, right?”

“Absolutely, only I have to watch what I say around you.” Foggy didn’t mind; it was comforting to hear someone agree with her on a comment she’d known already was going to provoke some anger. “Look, I know Ellison’s been good to you and everything, but remember he did originally side with Fisk.”

“He wasn’t the only one,” said Karen. “To be fair, most of the men who voiced their agreement with his outrage, well, they were all men for starters, and also, that type of man. The kind I try to avoid being alone with in the break room, and not even because I think they’ll make advances on me, necessarily, but simply because they might go belittling me.”

“So the guys who were going to throw bullshit at three of the four of us anyway, then,” said Foggy, trying to make herself sound completely relaxed, because she’d need to do that even more than usual in the coming days.

“You’ve never gotten hate mail, have you?” Karen’s voice was tiny and sad, the voice of someone who had.

Foggy's first thought then was, Oh God, Matt is going to lose his shit. Out loud she said, “It was probably inevitable anyway. Any tips for coping? For all four of us?”

A pause while Karen thought about it, then, “Try to read as little of it as possible, for starters. I actually don’t even see all of it anymore.”

“You mean leave Cheryl to deal with it? I don’t know if I want to do that, Karen. Also, I don’t know if we can get Marci to leave it be, if she starts getting it.”

“It might not have to be her, especially if Marci does start getting it too. Also, remember you can report death threats to the police, though I don’t always. Hell, there was at least one letter I fear there was a cop involved in. That’ll be your call.”

Just then, outside the door, she heard Cheryl saying, “Mr. Murdock, how long are you going to just stand outside your wife’s door?”

Matt’s response was very soft, a, “I think she might be on the phone with someone?”

Very considerate of him, Foggy supposed, except for the part where he was probably now shamelessly listening in. He had to be listening to her responses to Karen, at least. “Matt’s lurking around outside my door,” she informed Karen. “I don’t know whether or not I want him to participate in this conversation or not.” More quietly, she added, “Although if you don’t, Matt, could you at least excuse yourself or something?”

“All right, all right, I’ll go in,” he said to Cheryl in response. She should’ve known better than to think he’d be willing to walk off.

To the casual observer, Matt as he walked in might have looked a little tired. Foggy knew him better. “Karen,” she said, “can I call you back in a few?”

“Absolutely,” said Karen. “Remember, you don’t have to be nice to him.”

Matt had been listening to that one; she could tell. “Thanks for the reminder,” Foggy said to her lightly. “Bye.” She stood up as she hung up.

“I didn’t hear most of your conversation with Ms. Potts,” he said. “I was able to focus on talking to Many, which helped. But…well, I heard enough to make me think too much, I suppose. I don’t know if there’s even anything to say, I just...”

“Wow,” said Foggy. “Okay. I think we need to keep you out of the vicinity for any further talks I have with Pepper, for your own sake as well as both of ours. Maybe in the future I’ll ask her to meet me somewhere outside of Hell’s Kitchen? I mean, she knows about your hearing, so I’m sure she’ll understand. Though maybe too much; I’m sure those computer systems of Stark’s hear everything in his various properties. Unless they have privacy settings?” Something to ask her about, maybe.

“So you think you two will be talking again?” Matt asked softly. “And not just about whatever Stark’s next up to?”

“Does that bother you?” Foggy asked, in a tone that she hoped conveyed that this wouldn’t impede her.

“No,” Matt said. “In fact, I…I’ll be glad if you have someone to talk to. I know it’s helped you to talk to Karen, of course, but maybe… maybe Pepper Potts can understand things Karen can’t. At least if she takes Stark back.”

“So you think they have broken up?” she asked, then, carefully, “did you hear anything else?”

Matt looked appropriately uncomfortable as he said, “Not exactly. But she just…I don’t know. I could tell from the moment she mentioned his name she was in great pain over him. Then again, so could you, I imagine. And I…well I did keep track of her after she left the building, though she summoned her car on the way out and it arrived before she’d been out there very long. And she was pacing the entire time. Loudly, and that wasn’t just because of her heels. You got to her, probably more than she’ll ever admit to you.”

“And we have to end this conversation now,” Foggy cut him off, but much as she probably shouldn’t know what he’d just told her, she wasn’t sorry to learn it. “Though you know,” she added as she thought of another thing, “do you think maybe we should introduce her and Claire?” Or even Colleen, but of course she fought alongside Danny, so that was kind of a different situation.

“Maybe talk to Claire first,” said Matt. “I mean, Luke Cage is a bit more…” He trailed off, embarrassed.

“Sensible?” Foggy offered.

“Yeah, that. I think, in the end, there are things Claire’s willing to get herself dragged into, and there’s drama maybe you really shouldn’t bother her with. Like me. Definitely like Stark.”

And that, the thought that yes, Tony Stark probably was even more of a headache than this crazy husband of hers, caused the giggles to start to bubble out of Foggy. Matt took his glasses off and did his best to give her a pointed look, which was a bad idea, because it just made her laugh harder. “Like you too, I think,” Matt told her, which did nothing decrease her mirth.

When she had at least calmed down, Matt mused further, “Maybe have Karen talk to Claire with you. After all, she’s actually met Ms. Potts. I’ve never heard her speak badly of her, and when know you she’s the sort of woman Karen doesn’t go easy on.”

“Well, I have heard her criticize her words once, in relation to that whole think that happened in Sokovia, but maybe she’s forgiven her on that…” Maybe it would even do Karen and Pepper good to talk to each other. Of course, their situations remained different for the same reason Karen and Foggy’s situations were different, because Karen had never had to opportunity to be involved with the superhero she loved. Foggy supposed that did make her life easier in one way.

“Anyway,” Matt said, “I should probably also tell you; I got out of Many that Mr. Pulworth is staying in town for at least a couple more days, and that he’s probably going to pull Mrs. Wilson in for an interview after she refused to talk to anyone last night, and I just heard Marci tell her PA she’s headed for to Ft. Hamilton. I’ll try not to get too close to the premises…”

“Wow, you’re actually telling me this.” That by itself pleased Foggy so much she was willing enough to overlook the whole stalking dangerous people in broad daylight thing. Her standards had dropped so much. “Don’t suppose you’ll be able to get much of the guy’s reaction when Marci kicks his ass? You really shouldn’t tell me how she does so after all.” Which was a pity, since Marci no doubt had been spending the hours since their last meeting thinking of ways she could’ve done so already.

Matt smiled, and when she leaned towards him, he took the invitation to lightly kiss her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

The four of them had their first joint interview about a week later, after Jennifer got into town. Arriving at Trish’s studio was the first time all four of them were in each other’s company, probably from the time they’d had their last Civil Procedure class together, though Matt and Foggy had briefly met with their old classmate the previous evening. It was crowded enough a studio that Trish didn’t try to bring anyone else in to further discuss things.

She started by asking for a statement from each of them. She’d specifically asked them to have an individual one beforehand. Matt’s and Foggy’s weren’t too different from each other, and Jennifer’s was surprisingly cautious, but Marci made a more colorful one, with a remark about poor innocent Darlene Wilson being persecuted and the general way her life had gone. Trish took the cue, and they learned about the murder of Sam Wilson’s father when he’d only been nine, which raised sympathy for him too. She was sure to talk about his time as a pararescue airman too. Foggy did notice Marci was a bit vague about the events that happened in between, though; she suspected she didn’t wanted listeners hearing about those.

Instead she finished, “From the way his mother describes him to me, I think the loss of his father is a large part of what made Sam Wilson a hero, both before he donned the wings and after.” She was probably making a point just by saying that on the air. Especially when she added, “And honestly, his Avenger activities aren’t even the most impressive things he’s done as Falcon. Even after the group moved their headquarters out of New York City, he’s been a regular sight in Harlem. As late as right before he went to Europe during recent events, he was attending a fundraiser there. Nobody there had a word to say against him either, even with what had happened in Lagos. They, at least, could recognize an accident when they saw it. They don’t now, either.”

“So are you saying he might not have even necessarily done anything wrong?” Trish asked, and now she sounded both wary and hopeful, as if she wanted to believe it more than she thought she should.

“I think,” Jennifer cut in, “whether our clients did anything wrong is for a proper court to determine; an opportunity they have not been given. Surely if they have committed crimes they can be convicted of, the U.S. government should not be so worried about trying them. Are they worried they would be acquitted?”

“Although,” Foggy felt the need to cut in, “I do have to question the backlash that happened against mine for what happened in Africa. Wanda certainly didn’t want to kill anyone; I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t have seen that immediately. In fact, had she not done what she did, more people would’ve been killed. She was facing a critical situation where she only had a second to act. I want everyone to ask themselves: in her situation, would they have done any better? They can’t know.”

“Some would say,” said Trish, “that she shouldn’t have put herself in that situation, that the dealing of with Hydra should’ve been left to the military, who are trained to remain cooler under pressure.” She felt she had to say that, Foggy was sure.

“Well they took their sweet time doing anything,” said Matt. “For nearly a year, all they seemed to be doing was detaining and interrogating members of S.H.I.E.L.D., most of whom they ended up clearing of any wrongdoing. It seems Glenn Talbot thought there was more harm in them than in the known escaped Hydra operatives; maybe because they were the ones he could get hold of before they killed themselves. You hear him talking now about how they just took out most of Hydra, but why did it take them this long, and when before that they failed to accomplished anything of substance against them? And he found them all over the place, and no one even knows how many people they killed.”

He stopped then, but Foggy could tell he wanted to say more. Trish might have seen it too, because she was quick to say, “That actually brings to mind something Ms. Romanov said two years ago, at the Congressional hearings following the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. When they threatened her with arrest, she basically told them they couldn’t arrest her, because they needed her and her colleagues. Do you think this was what she meant?”

“Well, that’s obvious,” said Jennifer. “And one can’t help but point out that ultimately, those in charge let her walk out just like she said they would. For a year, they were happy to let the Avengers do what they wanted. And in return, they were pretty much as open and honest about their activities as they could be without compromising their missions-obviously the affair in Lagos involved a very dangerous quarry they didn’t want to risk tipping off. Tony Stark even admitted that the robots in Sokovia were his own creation when he didn’t have to. He could’ve maybe not said anything, and hoped people thought rogue Hydra agents had been responsible.”

“That’s right,” Matt added. “The governments of the world were perfectly fine with the Avengers, until someone who was one of their foes at the time caused the Hulk to suddenly become politically inconvenient. You might even say they used them to do their dirty work, then disowned them for it.” He was visibly bristling now.

Trish had been looking at Jennifer with a careful expression on her face. But thankfully she decided against saying what she was likely thinking, but just said, “We’re going to open the lines now for callers.”

The first two callers said nothing they all hadn’t either said or heard over the past week or so, and they made a contrast to each other Foggy could tell Trish liked, one all angry about the unlawful imprisonment, the other all angry over the Avengers’ unlawful actions in general. She had a slight smile on as she said, “Our third caller is Alex, from Manhattan. Alex, you’re on the air.”

“Hello, Trish,” began a male voice whose sneer spoke immediately of trouble. “I would like to say, I have been a loyal fan of yours from the time you were Patsy onward, and I have never been more disappointed in you than I am right now. I know you’ve been cheerleading for superheroes lately, but I never thought you would allow your show to become a platform for possible criminals to advocate for definite criminals.”

“Possible criminals?” Trish voice betrayed only mild surprise, though she was definitely tensing up. “I am not aware of any criminal allegations made against any of my guests.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex scoffed. “You’ve got two lawyers in there who’ve been lauded for taking Wilson Fisk down, ignoring the heavy involvement of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, and if you think it wasn’t him who sent Carl Hoffman to the police, you’re deluding yourself. It’s obvious the two of them had to be collaborating with the vigilante. And then Murdock shows up in the company he did recently? And now this. Any of them could’ve been involved in that leak. Did you even ever intend to mention who Ms. Walters is related to?”

Trish and Jennifer exchanged a glance at this point, and the latter nodded. It was she who spoke: “If you’re going to inquire into me and my cousin, Bruce Banner, sir, let me put it all out there. I don’t know where Bruce is, any more than anyone else does. The last time I had contact with him was a few weeks before the incident in Sokovia, when he emailed me to congratulate me on my new job. Believe me, I would love to know where he is, or even just that he’s okay. The Avengers have all sworn to me they haven’t heard anything from him since the publicly disclosed message he sent shortly after the battle.”

“Well, now we can be sure that you’re either an imbecile, for believing such an obvious lie from the Avengers, or you’re involved in the cover up of whatever he, Clint Barton, and the Thunder God have been doing this past year. Either way, you have no excuse for not kicking her out right now, Trish. You’ve had enough imbeciles on the show over the years.”

“You are basing this accusation on wild speculation, sir,” said Trish, her tone now hard and no-nonsense. “And I am, by the way, willing to vouch for the character of the three lawyers here I knew before today.” There was a pause, where they all had to be thinking the same thing: would he speak Jessica Jones’ name on the air? Because everyone knew it, even if Trish never spoke it.

But the guy was probably a little bit off in the head; it wasn’t impossible his brain had decided to ignore that completely. Instead, he just said, “Well, you’ve lost a loyal listener today, Trish. And I don’t think I’ll be the only one.” Then he hung up.

They went to commercial, and Trish sagged down hard. “Hey,” Matt said to her gently. “Things blew over for you when the whole incident with Killgrave happened, right? And nobody’s even sure what happened at Midland Circle, are they? There’s never even been an official confirmation on who was involved, not even in the police reports.”

“Sure wasn’t,” said Foggy. “I made clear before I left the precinct that night that any made would require those involved to talk to the press themselves.” After convincing the NYPD that they didn’t want that, with Trish and Karen’s aid.

“I know,” Trish said. “Just a little worried about how my higher-ups are going to react to that call.” She shook her head. “I’m doing what I can, but they’ve been driving me crazy.”

“Seeing you just as a shallow blonde?” Marci sounded sympathetic. “Make you feel helpless?” Trish nodded empathetically.

The four of them had also agreed to have lunch together that day, but they all had separate things to do before then. Even Matt wasn’t with her when Foggy returned to her office to find Cheryl on the floor leaning over a set of photos. “We just got these in the mail. With two other letters you don’t need to actually see. The one in the center had the word ‘Remember’ written on the back. But I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen these before.”

Foggy walked over, glanced down, and immediately knew: “Those are of Frank Castle’s victims, the ones from the motorcycle gang.” There were five of them, four arranged around a center one, and as soon as she saw it, Foggy remembered the rest: “Well, alleged anyway; they dropped charges against him for these five for lack of evidence. They’d filed them in the hopes of getting the death penalty, because of where the murders had taken place.”

In the center, the photo of Smitty was glaring to her. Getting those charges dismissed had been the easiest part of that afternoon for her; the evidence had been so flimsy. Hell, it said everything they’d never tried to refile them afterwards. And while she hadn’t been willing to admit it to her far more righteous husband/partner and secretary, she too had recognized the wrongfulness of how they’d been trying to get Frank Castle onto death row by manipulating the system, and been angry enough there’d been no room for guilt on her old classmate’s behalf.

Later she’d wondered if she should’ve refused to step in, maybe even told Matt he’d be on his own for this one. That had been a conflict of interest, after all. Then again, the whole thing with Grotto had been a potential conflict of interest for all three of them, and that left out their client having once kidnapped Matt and chained him to a roof.

Strange as it was, she no longer regretted agreeing to take the case, even though it had ruined their firm. It had led to Karen’s journalism career, after all. Foggy too had done pretty well for herself, and even Matt had benefited, being able to now have the pro bono career he’d dreamed off without having to worry about supporting himself. And as for Frank Castle, well, Karen owed her life to him twice multiple times over, and Matt did at least once.

But in there, she knew, she had betrayed Smitty. And she had the feeling this kind of reminder, of some of the more morally dodgy cases she’d taken, especially after joining Hogarth, Chao, & Benowitz, was going to arrive in the mail at least a few more times in the future.

And those weren’t even the pieces of mail she had to worry about the most. Unwilling to explain to Cheryl about Smitty, she instead just asked, “Do the other ones have anything in particular for us to worry about?”

Cheryl shrugged. “One death threat. We’ve sent that on to the police. Mostly calling you a coward and a traitor.” She shook her head. “Are we really going to talk about them like this?”

She and Matt had gotten a death threat for defending Frank. They’d both of them had much bigger things to be extremely upset about by then, and she’d never reacted. Matt had, even growling something about finding out who’d sent it once the trial was over. She wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten around to that, though; he hadn’t told her about it if he had. Karen had just put on the grim expression she’d been wearing a lot those days and said she’d call the police, in a tone that made clear she didn’t expect anything to come of that.

(She’d gotten a few since, of course. From what Foggy could tell, her reaction hadn’t changed much.)

Foggy knelt and scooped the photos up; it looked downright unprofessional to have crime scene photos on the floor, and here was a place she couldn’t get away with that. She probably should’ve thrown them out; there was no point to keeping them. But instead she found herself shoving them into one of her drawers.

Lunch

“How well can you tell when people are surreptitiously looking at us?” Foggy asked Matt as they entered the café she and Marci had agreed they needed to introduce Jennifer to. The two of them were there already, and had deliberately taken the table nearest to the back, where the least amount of the other customers would be able to see them. But that meant they had to walk past everyone to get there.

Before she’d joined up with her husband a block or so back, she’d spent most of the walk dead convinced everyone on the street was stealing glances at her. Then she’d realized that was probably just her being paranoid. Still, it was enough for her to seriously consider taking cabs everywhere, even though she hadn’t really wanted to be *that* rich lawyer.

“It’s not entirely a reliable thing,” said Matt, very softly. “There are five people we’re walking past right now who read as possibly eyeing us. But they could just as easily be trying to ignore unpleasant company, or trying to see if someone they’re waiting for has arrived, or any number of other things.”

Foggy would’ve liked to have asked him more, but they’d reached their table. Marci was looking surprisingly tired, while Jennifer was speaking to her in a low voice, though she was smiling. When she looked up at Matt and Foggy, she said, “You have anyone yell at you since last we parted?”

“No,” said Matt as Foggy shook her head. For a split second, Foggy could see him trying to not give away how much about Marci’s state he could detect, then he smoothly asked, “Did either of you?”

Marci’s fist landing on the table was audible enough to probably everyone in the café. “I should’ve known Kimmie would quit over this. She’s been looking for an excuse since before this whole thing started. And the way she did it probably means she’ll never have any career in the legal world, but I don’t think she wants one anymore anyway. Still, she did not need to go saying what she said to me-to me, who knows more about it than she ever will.

And you know, I did think that even if not everyone thought I was doing the right thing…” She drifted off, and just shook her head.

“It’s never the ones you think it’ll be, is it?” Foggy asked. She herself had decided, after her discussion with Cheryl, that she lost whatever friends she lost over this, and she’d probably lost most of those types of friends over defending Frank Castle anyway. But two days ago, now, she’d gotten an email from the childhood friend who’d been most supportive of her during that case, but apparently now felt completely differently about Foggy defending “that Sokovian bitch,” even though she’d never spoken ill of Wanda to Foggy before that day. Foggy didn’t understand it, and probably never would.

“Or the ones you hope it will be,” said Marci. “I suppose it really was too much to hope for that I’d offend Hogarth, and hell, she probably wouldn’t have shown it if we had anyway. But I could’ve done without that creep Graham visiting my office today just to express his support after Kimmie walked out.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” said Foggy as they sat down, and Matt even voiced his agreement; he’d met Graham. “Have you gotten any more of the word around the office? I’ve mostly spent the last couple of hours dealing with Sasha.

Marci shrugged, “All I know is the partners are too busy playing power games with each other to care too much-trust me, Murdock, you don’t want to know, and everyone else is scared someone will mail us anthrax. Which, really, that was a decade and a half ago, you’d think they’d get more modern.”

That got them all to at least smile a little, and then Matt said, “Well, let’s at least get Jennifer introduced to this place’s sandwiches. They’re a little small, but personally, I recommended anything that has their sliced tomatoes in it, without the mayonnaise.”

“You should follow his recommendations when it comes to all things edible,” Foggy told her. “Trust me.”

Jennifer did, ordering tomato with cheese. Foggy herself ordered one with lettuce. Matt just asked for the tomatoes by themselves, without the mayo.

Marci ordered a chocolate tart. “No offense,” she said, “but I don’t feel like eating healthy just now.”

There wasn’t much news from the past few hours besides what Marci had already told them, but they all had some catching up to do with Jennifer, and she with them. Especially since she did have one cause for worry: “I haven’t heard from Ms. Van Dyne in days. I even tried contacting their other relations. I couldn’t get in touch with her father, and Lang’s ex-wife hasn’t heard much lately either. Lang’s daughter said she thinks he and his girlfriend argue a lot, but I don’t think that explains it.”

“What about the media?” Marci asked. “Has she managed to elude them?”

“She told me at the beginning no one was getting her on record, and they’d be lucky to get her or especially her father on camera. So far she’s made good on that promise. I don’t really blame her for that.

I’ve never done this media thing, you know,” she said. “Never had a case where they were ever interested. And I know each of you has done it only once, and didn’t talk much.”

“In both cases the defendants weren’t ones that would get much sympathy with the media,” shrugged Marci. “You do what the job requires, take whatever blows hit you for being heroic.”

“Okay,” said Jennifer. “That is not a comment you make in a scene like this, especially the second half of that sentence. And since when was being heroic demanded of lawyers anyway?”

“Once would’ve thought we were too evil for that,” Matt agreed, smiling.

“Oh, well, you’d do it anyway,” Foggy retorted, because she had to. “Seriously, how was this one not his idea?” She’d honestly been wondering at that one, that, of all people, it had been first Tony Stark’s idea.

Though of course their companions didn’t know that. Instead, Marci said, “Maybe sometimes you don’t need Saint Matthew to do the right thing.” Down under the table, Matt squeezed her hand just a little; Foggy kept herself from reacting only with effort. “Though I suppose in this case, any lawyer would’ve realized it was the obvious thing to do. I mean, there’s no way the Black Widow knew for sure about the petitions when she dropped into your apartment. I don’t care how supersmart a ninja she is, there’s none.”

A pause, and then, “You know, I’ve wanted to ask this for a while, Foggy, and I think it’s a question we now should have the answer to anyway. Have the two of you ever spent any real amount of time with any of the Avengers besides Wanda? Hell, do you know anything about Sam Wilson it might be useful for me to know, too? Even anything you’ve heard secondhand?”

“We would’ve told you if we did,” Foggy said, trying to keep her voice steady, as she thought about the fact that she and Matt were now going to have to lie to one of their oldest friends on a case they were working with her on. It had been bad enough at Landman and Zack, where so often Matt had known who was lying and who wasn’t, and couldn’t tell anyone but her that he knew and how. But this kind of deceit was far worse.

It was almost enough to make her wish they hadn’t taken the case.

Matt had spent most of his life lying to people, of course. And now he just said, truthfully enough, “We did meet them, yes, but not under circumstances where they were going to talk about themselves much.”

“Did you meet Tony Stark?” Jennifer asked. “Bruce has talked to me a bit about him, you know. Said he could actually be nice when he got too distracted to be arrogant.”

Marci laughed, and Matt and Foggy forced themselves to smile, and he said, “Oh, he really has to be distracted for that, from what Wanda’s said to us. Remember, your cousin spent time with him in the lab. In any case, he wasn’t with the group that came down to the city last fall.”

Foggy was relieved when their food arrived, and for a few minutes they were all too busy eating to talk. Except that as she finished up her sandwich, she noticed that a woman who had come into the café after them was definitely eyeing their table. She was a black woman with fuzzy bobbed hair, dressed in a simple jeans and blouse, though there was something about her that stood out, maybe screamed “danger” a little bit. (She’d been around enough of Matt’s old girlfriends to know that attribute very well.)

She thought Matt had noticed her too. He had that expression on his face he sometimes got when he was trying to concentrate on something in their surroundings without giving away that he was doing so.

Unfortunately she couldn’t ask him just what he was sensing, but she did first say quietly, “That woman over there? Think she’s looking at us?”

“Oh God,” sighed Marci. “Surely even us rude people should have a quota of how many other rude people we have to put up with per day. Yeah, she is.”

A minute or so later, she added, “Or we could maybe go over there and see if she has any questions? I think she must have a purpose; that’s too much focus on us for her to just be gawking.”

Foggy took another look, and Marci was definitely right. Below the table she tapped Matt’s hand in question, and he took her fingers and squeezed them in affirmation.

“If that’s true,” said Jennifer, “she’ll come to us. I’ll take the check; I have less debt left than you three.”

She was in the process of signing it when the woman stood up and walked over. “I have a letter for Ms. Marci Stahl,” she said, in an African accent. “She will need to read it right now, with all four of you here.”

Marci gamely took the letter, which was only a page long, and read through it. Then she dropped her voice and said, “It’s from Sam Wilson. He includes two details about his mother’s apartment I doubt very many people know, and it looks a good deal like his hand too, from what I can tell. He says he’s writing on behalf of all four of our clients, that they want to meet with us, and we should trust this woman to take us to them. He also advises us their hosts do not wish for us to know where exactly they are, and we’re going to have to let them hood us.”

“I think we should do it,” said Matt, in a tone that told Foggy he’d smelled at least its author on the letter. “Although I’m not sure what the point of hooding me would be, m’am. If it makes you feel better, you can put earplugs on me.” From the woman’s amused grin, Foggy was pretty sure she knew about the enhanced senses.

Foggy felt more sorry than ever they couldn’t tell Marci and Jennifer. But she did ask, “You’ll take us to them? None the worse for wear?”

The woman looked vaguely unimpressed, but she said, “I will take you to them, no harm done.”

“Then I’m going,” said Matt. “You three with me?”

“Of course,” said Foggy, because he knew that already.

“What the hell,” said Marci. “Let’s have a dangerous adventure.”

“We’ve put ourselves in danger already anyway,” Jennifer agreed. “Might as well do our jobs. Though can we grab some notes and recording devices first?”

“If you must,” said the woman, though she looked may more annoyed than was called for.

Chapter Text

Foggy wasn’t sure how much later it was she took the hoods off, though she was pretty sure it had been at least a few hours. When she did so, they were strapped into seats on what appeared to be some kind of jet. She had put earplugs on Matt, speaking of making things fair when she’d done so. Watching Matt’s body relax as she took them out now, Foggy wondered if they’d been some sort of specially designed super-earplugs. Though where this woman would get such a thing she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. At least he didn’t look queasy at the moment; she’d been very worried about that.

The woman pressed a button, and their straps all undid themselves. “We will be landing in about five hours,” she said. “There are facilities behind the door at the end.” She pointed. “Otherwise you will not leave this deck. I will bring you something to eat in three hours.” She walked off to the other end then, towards and empty cockpit; the ship obviously had autopilot as well.

Their bags with their things were at their feet. Foggy took a quick look in both hers and Matt’s; everything appeared perfectly undisturbed. Jennifer pulled out one stack of papers. “Probably take me that long to read these anyway. You want to see this one, Marci? It touches on Lang’s association with Wilson.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Marci.

With them both occupied, Foggy readily followed Matt when he got up and walked to the other side of the ship. “Anything more you can tell about her?” she asked softly. “This ship looks kind of high tech, honestly.”

“Sounds it, too,” said Matt. “And those weren’t ordinary earplugs; I could barely hear anything. She absolutely reeks of vibranium, and she moves like someone in shape, someone used to fighting. My first thought would be that she’s a weapons smuggler, but most of them don’t have access to this kind of ship. I think she might be the bodyguard to some powerful person, probably in Africa-I think a lot of the black market for vibranium goes through there anyway, which makes me wonder what kind of company our friends are keeping. I want to trust them, but…”

“They’re in desperate straits, you know,” said Foggy. “All the superpowers in the world can only do so much for you if no country will take you in. Maybe Rogers just went with what seemed the best option.”

She stole a glance at their colleagues, wondering if they too were wondering where this woman and this ship came from. Or maybe not. Not knowing meant they weren’t aiding and abetting their clients in much, were in absolutely no danger of having to choose between their clients and the law. It was different for Foggy, of course, who chose her husband over the law every day.

They had things to study, too. Foggy had finally gotten the government to hand over their early intelligence documents related to Wanda and Pietro only the previous day. Though the speculation about whether or not they’d known the people they’d volunteered to work with had been Hydra was making her furious. That had been before anyone had known Hydra was still around, and anyway, she knew they never would’ve knowingly betrayed their ancestors like that.

The problem was, maybe, that Wanda was now the only person alive who knew all that much of what had gone on after that. When they found out, or why they did what they did even knowing. She was pretty sure the Avengers hadn’t asked. Foggy had never dared bring the subject up. But as she sat back down and started reading through the documents, she was aware she might now have to.

Matt was mostly listening through his documents, all the S.H.I.E.L.D. records about Barton that had leaked two years ago. He described them as painting him as a very decent man, who during his missions had often gone out of his way to help those in need when it had been outside or even in conflict with his mission’s parameters. Foggy had known already that Natasha Romananov hadn’t been the only wrongdoer to benefit from his mercy, because Wanda had of course been another one, even if he’d never had the direct objective of killing her. But now Matt spoke of lower-scale examples too.

It made Foggy pretty thankful he’d come out of retirement to join Captain America’s side. The way Marci had glossed over part of Sam Wilson’s history made her think he was their only completely clean client, easy to portray as good and noble and doing the right thing no matter what the law said.

She’d held out hope they’d be served some sort of ethnic food that would provide further hints about whose hands they were in. But their escort had probably thought of that, and she served them microwavables that had obviously come the frozen foods aisle; she’d probably bought them just before coming to the café. Foggy watched Matt place a forkful of what looked like lasagna in his mouth, and do his best not to make a face.

“Are you going to hood us for the landing?” Marci asked their host as she collected their empty plastic trays half an hour later.

“No need,” said their escort. “We will be landing in an uninhabited area. Your clients will meet with you there. If any of them wish to discuss anything in private, which I belief Mr. Barton especially may wish to do with Mr. Murdock, they will lead you a sufficient distance away. You will follow their lead, and remain in their company. We cannot guarantee your safety if you do not.” A modest smirk there. Personally, Foggy would always feel very safe in the company of an Avenger, but maybe that was just her.

Even when they’d been hooded, Matt had found and squeezed her hand hard during takeoff. Now, Foggy leaned in and whispered, “You think the landing might be harder for you? I’m getting the feeling we might be landing in a jungle. That’s probably going to be pretty rough on this thing.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, and then learned in further to whisper, “the only other flying thing I’ve ever been on may have been the Avengers jet, but honestly? This ship actually feels smoother. Maybe a little louder when taking off; I think she must have driven us out of the city when we were in that car. But I feel fewer tremors now than I felt on the jet, I think we’re less tilted in the air, and I think the mechanics that are keeping us in the air might even be less complex.”

“That sounds like super-advanced technology,” Foggy said, keeping her voice down only with difficulty. Either this was the most equipped and probably the most scary power lord in Africa that their rogue Avengers were keeping company with, or it was something else all together.

Matt was still leaned against her, and she whispered to him, “I’m starting to think the rumors are true about S.H.I.E.L.D. still existing in some form or other. That would make a lot more sense than Steve Rogers hanging out with some big vibranium trafficking king.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. almost always used Stark Industries technology, same as the Avengers did. They did develop some things in-house, but they tended to be weapons or devices. And if they’re still around, and doing things that require planes? They’d have probably built or bought for stealth instead of smoothness.”

They couldn’t really keep on talking, especially because Marci and Jennifer didn’t have much left to read through, and the latter was giving them a couple of curious looks. Foggy supposed it was for the better if even she and Matt didn’t figure out anything further.

“Buckle up, we’re landing,” their escort said when they started their descent, but Foggy thought she detected just a touch of amusement in her voice, which made her seriously wonder if they truly needed to. And unlike Matt, she had been on a normal commercial plane before. Only twice, to D.C. and back on a case she had taken the previous winter. But he was right; this jet landed like a piece of paper settling gracefully onto the floor. Foggy found herself doubting they could truly be in the jungle; surely there wasn’t room in there for this plane to manage this, no matter how well it had been built.

But as soon as their escort lowered the ramp, Foggy was instantly hit by the level of humidity in the air. Matt wasn’t the only one who visibly reacted; Jennifer patted down her hair, while Marci wiped her brow.

Her husband’s hand was tight on Foggy’s arm the four of them followed their guide out. They’d neither of them been in any place more overgrown than the wooded areas of Central and Morningside Parks, and Foggy could only imagine what it was like for him, every completely new aspect of such a wildly different environment making itself known through his elevated senses, and after the strain even a less stressing plane ride had already put on him.

It was a jungle. Complete with tall trees, massive undergrowth on the ground, and mysterious animal noises coming from somewhere around them. On either side of the plane, the overhanging foliage was millimeters away from the hull, but it looked completely unscathed. It might have been a different story behind them, of course, but Foggy suspected it wasn’t, that this plane had been perfectly landed, and damaged nothing around it.

They had managed to find something of a clearing to land in, in which stood their four clients. At first glance, they all looked good and healthy, and Matt showed no sign of sensing otherwise either. The clothes they were dressed in were fairly nondescript, though Wanda’s dress was still beautiful in its way, covering her in simple dark cloth from shoulders to knees, contrasting well with both her pale hair and the impressive grey boots all four wore.

“Wanda wants to hug us,” Foggy said to Matt when she started running up the ramp, though of course he knew that already. She stepped forward to be hugged first, and she held her old friend tight for a long moment, taking what relief she could from the weight of her and the strength of her arms. They weren’t even true indications of her being fine, but they made her stomach untwist for the first time since they’d found Tony Stark in their apartment.

When Wanda pulled away, to their surprise, instead of going to hug Matt next right away, she reached into a pocket in her skirt-cleverly designed; it had been pretty much invisible before she put her hand in-and took out an envelope, on which she had written For Vision’s eyes only. “Could you get this to him?” she asked. “If it has to be given to Tony Stark…or maybe to Pepper Potts, if you can…”

“I can get it to her,” Foggy told her. “I’m not sure when, mind you…”

“No hurry,” Wanda assured her, which was actually a strange thing for her to say, given how quickly her situation could change. Then again, maybe she was really intending to just hide out here for the year or so it would take for the courts to do their thing.

She hugged Matt next, with a, “Is it true you were nearly killed?”

“I’m all right,” said Matt, but he still sounded haunted.

Clint Barton had also come up the ramp, and Marci and Jennifer had gone down, looking to get properly introduced to their own clients. Down on the ground, Sam Wilson beckoned to those on top of the ramp, and they came down to join their companions.

When they were all gathered together, Wilson said, “The four of us have been talking things over. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’ve brought you here to ask you to drop the lawsuit.”

“What?” Matt demanded, echoing all their dismay. “Why?”

“Clint and Scott both want to cut deals with the government. Scott has his daughter to worry about, and Clint’s got a very good reason for it, too. If you want to know it, Murdock, you’re going to have to go for a walk in the woods. And Wanda and I...listen, do all four of you really mean it when you say you can’t tell anyone what we tell you?”

“If you guys are going rogue,” said Marci, “well, if we actively aided and abetted you, there’d be a problem.” The stunned look on Sam’s face made it clear she’d guessed right. Not that it had been hard to do so. “But just telling us, without us even knowing exactly what you’re doing?” She looked over at Matt and Foggy as she said, “Well, you must know the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s favorite lawyers here are safe, and for my own part, and I assume Ms. Walters’ here...”

“We can always point out, if pushed to tell them your plans,” Jennifer added, “that doing so would probably get us disbarred. They try to arrest us, we’d be martyrs.” She looked uneasily at Marci as she said that last part. It was the first time any of them had said it out loud.

“Sounds like we’re putting you in a bad situation, then,” said Wanda anxiously. “I mean, we never meant for you to have choose between being arrested and being disbarred…”

“No,” said Foggy, who had endured enough of that kind of talk for one lifetime already. “We all four of us knew of the dangers when we took this case, and yes, as Marci just pointed out, Matt and I are even used to that already. And by the way, if you really want us to drop the case on behalf of all four of you just to keep us out of trouble, you don’t have to do that. In fact, I have to advise you against that. Right now you may be planning to simply never return to the U.S. again or just try to go undetected if you do, but you don’t really know what’s going to happen in the future. If we drop the lawsuit now, and you end up in the Raft later, it’ll be a lot harder to get you guys your due process then.”

“And it’s not just about you guys, either,” Matt said, and Foggy recognized that righteous tone. “You’ve noticed, no doubt, there are a lot of people with superpowers who’ve become known to the public, or at least their neighbors, since the Incident that started all this. Honestly, I’ve started to wonder if the Sokovia Accords were targeted at you as much as it was targeted at them. Especially now that the Inhumans have gotten themselves established as a distinct racial minority, and you know how people treat those.

And those people, you know, most of them can’t just go rogue and disappear. Many of them probably wouldn’t see a need to anyway, if they aren’t using their powers to do anything special. But do you really think those people are going to just going to be left alone, even if they aren’t? Honestly, I’m just waiting for the first reports of them being arrested for petty things, maybe things they didn’t necessarily even do, and then getting sent straight to the Raft…”

“Oh, come on!” Scott Lang scoffed. “You really think some Inhuman kid’s going to get sent to the Raft for loitering or something?”

“I don’t think it’s impossible,” said Matt, and his voice was turning cold. “And I certainly think it’s only a matter of time before they start putting other criminals there, at least for major offenses. And even if you were in it as a white male folk hero, I would expect you, at least, to know enough about how our justice system works to know it might be impossible for them to be treated the same by the jury as it is. If you people really want to fight the worst aspects of the Sokovia Accords? This is the way to do it.”

“And my daughter has to pay for that then?” Lang still demanded. “I’ve put her through enough, okay?”

“You don’t all have to continue on,” said Jennifer. “We just need to get the case into the court system and get them to establish the precedent. If you and Mr. Barton want to make deals, we can do it with just Mr. Wilson and Ms. Maximoff. Of course, if you bargain, you’ll likely have to waive all rights to appeal, so you might not be able to benefit from any later court decisions.”

Barton had obviously been listening to that speech himself, and now he said, “Okay, now Murdock and I definitely have to go for a walk, and it might be a pretty long one, and hell, maybe all four of us should have a private discussion with our own lawyers, get an idea of what we want to do.”

The other three all agreed, so a few minutes later, Foggy found herself walking in the middle of the jungle with Wanda, their arms linked like she normally did with Matt. “It’s all right,” Wanda said. “We’re deliberately in a part of the rainforest that doesn’t have anything too dangerous in it.”

“Should I really not ask what company you people are in with?” Foggy asked. “You’re…you’re not ashamed, are you?” She could let the rest of it go, but she at least wanted to know that.

“No,” said Wanda quickly. “The reasons we’re not telling you have absolutely nothing to do with us, and we’re not in company we need to be ashamed of.”

Foggy could believe her, and that was enough. “That’s good,” she said. “I would’ve hated to think that in your desperation you’d…well…” She drifted off hastily, worrying about offending her friend.

“I know,” said Wanda, soft and sad. “Don’t worry. I’m never going to make that mistake again.”

Then she said, “I don’t ever want to go back, you know. I never even forgave Stark entirely, and I never will now. Or your whole country, really.”

“Well,” said Foggy, “you’re hardly alone on either of those. But is that why you don’t want to go forward with this case? Because you really want nothing to do at all with the United States?”

“Maybe,” Wanda sighed, looking away.

Foggy shook her head, “That’s what the likes of Ross wants you to do, Wanda. Hell, I think it might even be what Stark would prefer at this point. I know maybe this shouldn’t be your fight, but, well, you’re a superhero. You’re used to taking fights because you’re the one who can, right?”

“Do you think we’ll win it?” she asked. “I am worried, you know. That people are now so afraid of me and so set against me, that the judges will rule against me when they might not against someone else without my history.”

Sadly, that was a legitimate concern. Foggy considered it briefly, then said, “We’re doing our best to spin your public images into good ones again. The way Marci’s doing it with Sam has a good chance of working; we’ll try to put our ears to the ground there when we get back, see if we're getting the public reaction we want. If only one of you goes on with the suit, it should probably be him. But I think if you do it with him, and Marci gets his image fixed, they won’t punish him for your supposed sins.”

They walked in silence for a little while, Wanda looking deep in thought. Then she said, “I don’t know if I even believe the U.S. courts will do the right thing, though I understand why you have to try. I suppose…I have to try too. I mean, it won’t even affect just the superpowered U.S. population, will it? How they treat us in one part of the world…”

“Exactly,” said Foggy. “And I’ll say this also: Ross is one of the driving forces behind the enforcement of the Accords, especially since apparently Wakanda’s new king has decided that country’s had enough to being involved with international affairs for now and gone home. He’s even made comments about other countries possibly sheltering superpowered criminals and maybe responding with sanctions. Not that there’s any signs any country’s actually going to do so; he’s talking out of his ass. But yeah, anything that cuts him down to size, especially in relations to superpowered people? Is doing the whole world a favor.”

“Well, I have taken to doing the world favors,” said Wanda, and there was only a trace of crossness in her smile. “All right. You can do this one in my name. And it’s like you said, we don’t really know what’s going to happen in the future, do we? We might even have to seek out Stark, if we need him to save the world, or something like that, though I hope not.”

“I’m holding out hope that if it’s a world-saving situation, people will be flexible until the world has been saved,” said Foggy. “But I suppose there’s the whole question of what happens then, so…”

They were the first lawyer and client to return to the clearing, though Jennifer and Scott Lang were only a few minutes behind them. “He’s still adamant about taking a deal,” said Jennifer, and Foggy smiled and nodded, because that was just fine.

Especially when Marci returned with Sam Wilson, with him saying to her, “Remember what I said.” To the four of them, he said, “So if I have to be the face of this, I want to be able to keep tabs on my mama. I may or may not end up needing your help for that.”

He said it to Foggy, more than to anyone else, to which she just nodded, and said, “We’ll make sure she knows where to find us.”

It took much longer for Matt and Clint Barton to return. Foggy even wondered if Natasha Romanov was hiding somewhere in the rainforest, and they’d stopped to confer with her. She was just starting to think she’d have to demand a search party if they took much longer when she heard her husband’s voice call out, “Foggy? Is everybody back yet?”

“With how long you two took of course we are,” laughed Wanda, but it was gentle, and she sounded like she’d expected them to take a while. The two men looked similarly amused.

“I’m still taking a deal,” Barton said. “And I don’t know if any of you will see much of me after that. Four of you now know why that is, and my lawyer here has absolutely agreed this is the best option for me.”

“I have,” said Matt, with that professional certainty that Foggy had never doubted, not even when she’d doubted everything else about him. He also looked surprisingly pleased.

Their escort had gone off after they'd broken off into pairs, and she wasn't coming back for another hour or so, apparently. Marci and her client decided to use the opportunity to talk more. But Matt and his had had the time to talk themselves out, and when he voiced a wish to go right back into the rainforest, Matt nodded as if he’d expected that. It increased Foggy’s suspicion that they’d had company back there. Except that Scott Lang also announced he’d go with them, apparently not interested in talking further with his lawyer either.

So Matt, Foggy, Jennifer, and Wanda all ended up finding a part of the forest floor they could sit on comfortably, and tried to catch up as best they could. Of course with Jennifer there they couldn’t talk about Matt’s other life, but he could tell Wanda about his big victory for Aaron James, which was the type of story she always loved to hear about. “That poor young man could do with some bionic legs,” she said. “Like the ones I’ve heard Rhodey is currently walking around on. But those would still cost his family even more than the settlement you got him, I suppose.”

“I don’t think they’ll be on the market for at least half a year more,” said Foggy. “Karen’s looked into it, and according to her, this is all very experimental, though a few less scrupulous people have been looking into bionic enhancements since Natasha leaked all the S.H.I.E.L.D. files. I’m pretty sure Danny wants Rand to look into it too…” She drifted off as a phone chimed, and then chimed again, and a couple more times after that.

It was Jennifer’s. “At least we can get a signal here,” she commented as she pulled it out and opened her messages. Then her eyes narrowed, only slightly, but that told her companions enough. “I finally have a message from Ms. van Dyne,” she announced, “which she has directed me to share with everyone.”

She flipped her phone around for the other two women to read. Foggy read it out loud for Matt: “My father and I have just learned we’re about to be charged for violation of the Sokovia Accords, due to Scott using our suit in Germany. Even though we didn’t know what he was going to do, and certainly would never have allowed the AVENGERS-that’s in all caps-to make use of our technologies. But we’re pretty sure if we tried to say that, Ross would call us liars and lock us up forever. So none of you will be hearing from us ever again. Tell everyone that, Scott especially.”

“So, yeah.” Jennifer stood up. “I’ve gotta go find Scott. This is probably going to be painful.”

Matt and Wanda also hastily got up. “I think you should find Sam and Ms. Stahl instead,” said Wanda. “Sam has his wings on him; he can get to them faster.” Now Foggy was dead certain Romanov was off in the woods. Maybe Jennifer suspected the same, because she didn’t protest.

As they headed off, Matt said, “What does it say about this situation, that none of us think she’s just being paranoid about Ross?”

“But can this just be Ross?” asked Wanda. “I mean, he is not a prosecutor, is he? Doesn’t someone else have to do the charging?”

"Yes, that’s true,” said Jennifer. “And even if they don’t want any help from any of us, the two of them will get lawyers who’ll take up this cause.”

“If they get captured,” Matt noted. “If they prove trickier to find than normal, which they probably will, what with all the size changing abilities, who’s going to provide the resources for it? Resources that would all find much better use going after people who actually pose a real threat to the average person-people who, we might add, have just had one very strong force working against them removed from the picture.”

“Because we all know that protecting the average person is what the powerful people care about,” said Wanda bitterly.

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “I assume it won’t shock the company here if I saw I hope they don’t find them.” That made Wanda laugh a little, the way she often had back at Columbia.

Jennifer considered the two of them. “Was it a bad idea to let the two of them reunite, Foggy?”

“Probably,” said Foggy, because of course she couldn’t tell her Matt and Wanda had already reunited while fighting a bunch of undead ninjas.

When Sam received the news, he flew off and brought Scott back with him, with time enough to spare for him and Jennifer to go off and confer. Those wings really were very fast.

Chapter Text

As soon as they’d had their blindfolds removed and been left sitting somewhere in Central Park, Foggy pulled out her phone and opened up her messages. As she’d pretty much expected, there were five from Karen.

The first two she read out loud to all three of her companions: “First message: They’re filing charges against Scott Lang’s girlfriend and her father just for inventing technology? Surely even the Accords can’t be used to call someone guilty by association. Second message: Another announcement from Ross tomorrow.” That wasn’t as expected, but hardly surprising. “Then two more messages asking where we are, and oh shit, now she’s worrying we’ve been arrested, too. I’m going to tell her we’re all fine.”

“You’re not telling her we went to meet with them,” said Marci. “I don’t care if you trust her to keep it off the record, I don’t.”

“Wasn’t going to do something like that,” sighed Foggy, texting only We’re all right. “Though I suppose we’ll have to let the government at least know we’ve been in contact with them. There’s no other way to get those deals.”

“Jennifer and I have been contact with Mr. Barton and Mr. Lang,” Matt corrected. “At the very least, we should try to avoid volunteering further details that aren’t relevant and probably still privileged. They certainly can’t demand them from either of us about the other, Foggy. None of us have any appointments we missed, right?”

Marci shrugged. “Our colleagues might have noticed Foggy and I haven’t been around. But I don’t think they’ll ask any questions.”

On Foggy’s phone, the responding message popped up from Karen: Let me guess. I’m not allowed to ask.

Nope, sorry, Foggy responded, with a cheeky smiling emoji right after. Not that she would buy the story they were going to sell. Nor would anyone else, really, but so long as there wasn’t proof contradicting it, they might get away with it.

“We’ve got from lunchtime to lunchtime again,” said Jennifer, as she looked at her own phone. “I think you and I should have one by ourselves, Matt, talk shop.”

“That is a good idea,” said Marci, and she stood up and look at Foggy. “How about you, Foggy? Want to delay dealing with our colleagues?”

Foggy would’ve been, except she did want to sit Cheryl down and tell her everything in person; she’d promised herself she’d do that for things like this. So she said, “Not this time. I’m just going to grab a sandwich from the corner and face my PA.”

The four of them ended staying in each other’s company back to Hell’s Kitchen, and Foggy and Marci only parted when the latter turned to head for another one of her favorite cafés. On hearing Cheryl hadn’t had lunch yet, Foggy texted her that she was bringing two sandwiches in. She made sure to get Cheryl her favorite corned beef.

Cheryl ate it very slowly as Foggy told her the whole story. When she finished with it, she said, “Well, from what I’ve heard of Sam Wilson, he wouldn’t be willing to stay in hiding with powerful people doing nothing for long. And that’s going to complicate the case, isn’t it, when he and Wanda inevitably get identified? Even if they believe you when you say you didn’t know their plans. Which they probably won’t, and now they’ll definitely come to question all of us.”

“We insist everything is privileged,” Foggy reminded, “because hey, it is. Even if they get their hands on any search warrants, there’ll be nothing for them to find.” At least once Matt’s costume and weapons were put somewhere else again. Maybe they could just stay there for a month or so. She wouldn’t mind.

Cheryl shook her head. “If they get to come into my home...and no, there’s nothing there in theory, but you’re a fool if you think my family and I are safe because of that.”

“I’m not a fool,” said Foggy. “But we don’t have to assume they’ll go that far; you’re not going to be their priority by a long shot.”

“They’d better not, then,” was all Cheryl said to that, and there was a new note of coldness in her voice. To some extent, at least, Foggy didn’t blame her, even if maybe she could’ve realized this sort of thing was likely to happen.

All in all, she was way more cheered than she ought to be when Karen’s number popped up on her phone, even though she was pretty sure already she wasn’t going to like the news.

Sure enough, Karen answered her cheerful, “What’s cooking, scary lady?” with a “Jennifer and her cousin’s entire contact history. Just landed anonymously sent in our mailbox. And now we’re getting word we’re not the only ones. She was telling the truth on the radio; there’s been nothing since that email in April of last year. But the fact that they got their hands on this information and spread it out so far…”

“An act of intimidation.” Foggy’s blood ran cold. Though surely if they’d had anything on her and Matt and Daredevil and his recent temporary teammates, that would’ve been first to come out. More likely, of course, this had just been something they’d known to look for already, and they would be hoping to find dirt on her and Matt and Marci after a little more searching. Starting, maybe by looking into her and Matt’s known connection to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

“I’ve talked to Ellison about trying to find out who’s responsible. Normally he doesn’t object, but normally my targets at least live in New York City, and he’s hesitant this time.”

“He’s afraid it’s connected to the government,” said Foggy; that much was obvious. “Karen, I assume you realize how serious that would be.”

“Already told him, how much such a thing would need to be exposed, and he said that he didn’t disagree, but that we’d need to tread carefully and all that.” Her peeved tone said a lot. “So for now, all you guys can do is watch your backs.”

“I’ll pass the message on,” said Foggy. “Thanks for the heads up.”

She called Jennifer first, as the one who was going to be most affected by this latest development. “Mind if I email all three of you with my general history with Bruce? I’d rather you, at least, hear it all from me first.”

“Go ahead,” said Foggy. “Though be careful; you don’t know what they have on you and what they don’t. I mean, if you called Karen right now she’d probably send it to you.”

“She’d be a much more decent person than most of the media people I’ve met, then,” said Jennifer, whose main source of information about Karen had been Marci. “But all right, give me her number.”

That left Foggy feeling cross enough at Marci she just texted her before calling Matt. “You know,” he said, “Jessica Jones never paid me. Of course she never quite officially accepted me as her attorney either. Maybe we could get her to investigate this investigation into us. Or at least give us advice on making life harder for the investigator, since she knows how they do things.”

“We can pay her for either, don’t be cheap,” said Foggy. “I’m happy to.”

That Evening

Foggy wasn’t sure how she ended up being the one to go to Jessica Jones’ place all alone that evening. Matt might have made some comment at some point about visiting her “later,” a trip that would probably just be him dropping off the incriminating Daredevil stuff. But she did think it was for the better that the world not see Matt Murdock and Jessica Jones having anything to do with each other after that whole affair with Midland Circle.

Except when she got there, it was instead Malcolm Ducasse who unlocked and opened the door. “Jessica’s out right now,” he said, “and I don’t know how she’ll be when she comes back in. We were closed long enough we pretty much have to rebuild our clientele, so we haven’t gotten many jobs yet.”

“Well,” said Foggy, “Matt and I might just have one for you, and Marci and Jennifer might also help provide you with work, though we haven’t discussed this with them yet.”

“You want us to find out who’s been stalking Ms. Walters?” Malcolm grinned. “You realize they might not even be in the city? People can hack emails from anywhere.”

“You think you can’t handle that?” Foggy asked challengingly.

“Nice try. If they’re just hacking, we can track that, but if they live on the other side of the country, we are not going to fly across it to nail exactly who they are. Well, unless you can pay for business-class plane tickets.”

Foggy briefly considered how much money she was willing to sink into this. Then she said, “Even tracking down who they are vaguely could be a huge help. We could potentially lawyer our way at them from there.” Especially if they had the Avengers lend aid, which they might if this got big enough. She wondered how dishonest it was to not mention that, though she really couldn’t. “Besides, we’re pretty sure they’re looking for the kind of dirt on us that would require them to have someone in this city sooner or later. Or if you really think this is going to be too big for you, you could still give us advice.”

“Oh no,” Malcolm laughed, “that you’re never going to get from Jessica, and I’m still too new at this. Sorry.”

“So professional work alone it is, then,” said Foggy. “I’m afraid so far we don’t have much for you to go on…should we wait for Jessica?”

“She could be a while, maybe even hours. I can fill her in later. Besides, the one thing we do have is one she’ll realize herself: what your husband’s got for them to find. He is the Daredevil, isn’t he? I was thinking it even before I saw Jessica carry that box in here for him; I assume it had his stuff in it, because you knew your apartment was going to be searched. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure we’re going to be holding that in confidence simply as the professional thing to do.”

Foggy had pretty much expected that he’d figured that out; she’d seen enough at the Harlem precinct to be aware he was smarter than he seemed at first glance. Still, it was unsettling to say, “Yes, he is. Which is a problem when we’re pretty much known to be connected to him.”

“Give me all the details on that, then,” said Malcolm. “Any facts anyone knows besides the two of you and Ms. Page-I’m assuming she’s trustworthy-any stories that people generally believe, anyone you’re acquainted with who’s ever seemed overly interested in your relationship with him, especially recently-there’s a good chance you two are being investigated already. You might want to ask Ms. Page for anything else she’s seen or heard in her line of work.”

It was a strange feeling, talking about her husband’s greatest secrets and how she’d dealt with them to someone who was still pretty much a stranger. But Malcolm had a kind face and a kind voice, and the comments he made were sympathetic. He was exactly the kind of assistant the more prickly Jessica needed, she thought.

When she’d finished telling him everything she could think of, he said, “The expert opinion will be Jessica’s, of course, but I think there are at least of couple of misleading tricks we can pull. Best bet is to send them on a very long chase to prove a false theory. I…don’t suppose we could somehow enlist your friend Detective Mahoney in the effort?”

Foggy felt the temptation, but still shook her head. “Can’t risk it. Too much chance he’ll react the wrong way.” Though she’d always wondered if he suspected, especially since it would explain his never asking them very many questions about their masked friend. Which was why she added, “He really should’ve be involved at all, even unwittingly.”

“Just as well. I really didn’t want to involve the cops anyway, and I’m pretty sure Jessica will feel the same way about it. Besides, I figured one of the three of you would object to that.”

After a moment of thinking about that last sentence, Foggy found herself asking, “How much do you and Jessica know about us?”

He shook his head. “She hasn’t talked to me about that. But that much I knew just from keeping you and Ms. Page company in the precinct. And really, you didn’t think she wouldn’t go looking into those after that adventure we all shared, did you?”

“And do you have those written down anywhere anyone could find them?”

Malcolm held up his hands. “All we’ve got written is what I just put down now. She’s made a few comments about lawyers.” He sounded like he might agree with her there.

Foggy knew she should let it go. She’d just hired these people to do what they did, after all. But maybe it was the stress of the recent weeks, or maybe it was the awareness that the people who had taken them to their clients had to have been stalking them themselves for at least a few days, that caused her to instead march up to the desk and say, “Listen, Mr. Ducasse, I want to trust you, especially because my husband really seems to trust your boss, and he can actually tell when people aren’t being honest with him-which, by the way, is the only reason I don’t think he’s being an idiot there…”

“Ms. Nelson,” Malcolm’s tone changed completely. “Please remember we have not accepted you as our clients yet, and I don’t need any women like you talking to me like that.”

“Like me?” Foggy demanded indignantly.

“Yeah, you condescending…”

“Hello, Malcolm,” a voice interrupted him from the door. “Are you still here? Oh, I know you? You’re Jeri’s lapdog, the one that sent her husband to make sure I didn’t cause her any trouble.”

Foggy found herself seriously reconsidering whether she wanted these people’s help after all as she turned around. The sight of Jessica didn’t help. She was in her usual getup with her leather jacket, but her jeans were covered in stains that definitely weren’t alcohol, although they didn’t look like blood either. Her hair also looked like it had gotten hit by some liquid. She seemed to hold her liquor relatively well; she was pretty vertical and not stumbling, though maybe her steps weren’t exactly steady either. Her smirk was definitely a drunk one, but her eyes were way too dull, in a way that would make Foggy worry for her mental health under different circumstances.

“Really, Malcolm,” she said, “you’re not supposed to be intruding on my empty apartment late at night. Get out.”

“It’s not that late at night,” Malcolm said, and he was right, though he and Foggy had been at it for a while. “But fine, I’ll deal with you in the morning. Be nice to our new client, will you?”

“You didn’t sound like you were being!” Jessica retorted as he strolled out, which he ignored. She then walked up to her desk, and gazed at his upside-down notes. “You’re not getting a discount,” was her reaction.

“Wasn’t going to ask for one,” Foggy snapped. She had a vague idea that Jessica had gone through hell in her life, and she forced herself to breathe in and out, and say, “I can come back tomorrow. You look like you could use some water and then some sleep.”

“You really are nice, aren’t you?” She seems to be seriously contemplating Foggy, drunk as she obviously is. “Except Malcolm doesn’t talk like that to people if they’re nice.”

Foggy had gotten the same impression in Harlem, but obviously it hadn’t been quite right. “Well, tonight,” she said, “he seemed very offended by my failure to immediately trust a strange man who works for a private investigator where the police have folders on the both of them.”

Jessica’s expression darkened at that. “Maybe he had his reasons for that, ones a lawyer might or might not get, although I expected Murdock’s wife would. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have, since you do work for Jeri.”

Foggy actually couldn’t deny that she had a point with that second sentence. Still she found herself protesting, “He told me to take that job, you know.”

And that just made Jessica let out a drunken laugh, big enough of one that Foggy fear for a moment she was going to fall down, which was the main reason she didn’t just walk out. “How’d that go?” she managed. “Did he make a big speech about how you should divorce him for your own good-oh, no, wait, he’s really Catholic, isn’t he? But I’m sure he still told you that you’re better off without him. And of course you overrode him, and he probably thinks of himself as unforgivably weak over it.”

Given that Matt hadn’t spent all of that much time in the company of this woman, and for most of it they’d been pretty busy, it was a little unnerving that she’d figured all that out. It was practically a defensive move for Foggy to retort, “If he did, it’s none of your business.”

“I know.” She was still smiling wide. “But sometimes it’s hard to remember when I’m supposed to be off the job.” The smile faded, though, as she added, “But next time to you go making assumptions about a young black man with a police folder, maybe you should take a moment to consider why they made one on him in particular. Now good night.”

Jessica was right there, too, Foggy knew. Hell, she was probably going to get some words from Matt about it when she told him about all this. She would have to try to talk to Malcolm again, she thought, maybe even apologize. After they’d both slept on it.

The Next Day

When they heard the announcement was at one, the four lawyers ate lunch together in Marci’s office. Marci’s latest PA, an intern named José, ate with them, but Cheryl said she still had some of the files from Sasha’s case to deal with. Foggy was sure that was at least partly the truth, and Matt said nothing about her words.

It was a nice feeling of solidarity, of course, the four of them sitting together. But when they were getting limited in what they could discuss with each other, they seemed to have collectively decided to not talk about it at all, talking instead about the heat wave that was forecast for the next week, the novel Jennifer had recently read, and Marci’s continuing attempts to get tickets for Hamilton. (“Seriously, Foggy, how’d you pull that off?”)

At one they assembled in front of Marci’s laptop, and Ross at least didn’t keep them waiting; he was up at that podium at two minutes after. “I called this press conference today,” he said, “to refute some claims recently made against this government, as well as make a few announcements. It has been alleged that in detaining four superheroes who had flagrantly violated the Sovokia Accords, we violated various laws, and there has been an implication that we were planning to hold them there forever without trial-which would, at that time, have been a terrible human rights violation-if we had had any intention of doing it.

It would take a lot of gall for anyone to pretend that our initial confinement of the individuals in question was in violation of international law, when it was in fact exactly what the treaty we’d just ratified directed us to do. The Accords specifically require that countries responsible for superheroes restrain those who are violating them by whatever means and methods prove necessary. The whole world saw what Wanda Maximoff could do, and we don’t even know all of what Clint Barton and Scott Lang could do. The Raft was built in accordance with the special protocols now in place for those whom an ordinary prison wouldn’t hold.

And now, thanks to Steve Rogers, we actually would have justification to hold them there indefinitely. He committed an act of war upon the United States, and under the law of war, we now have the perfect right to hold him and his allies. However, we might not need to detain them on that. Later today, the Department of Justice will unveil indictments for him, Ms. Maximoff, Mr. Sam Wilson, Mr. Barton, Mr. Lang, and Ms. Natalia Romanova, whom, I am sorry to say, we now know to have allied herself with her rogue colleagues towards the end of their fight in Germany.”

That hadn’t been public knowledge; there was a loud murmur from Ross’ audience. Karen betrayed no reaction. Maybe she’d known from her own sources.

“We offer them all a fair trial,” Ross spoke over them, “and I don’t see how they can possibly demand any more than that, or any reason why they should not now do the honorable thing and turn themselves in.”

He’s done the smart maneuver, Foggy thought. She doubted instantly they’d ever get their hands on any evidence that they would have detained them indefinitely had they not been exposed, not if Ross was claiming otherwise like this. Officially, at least, he’d pulled the moral high ground out from under them. And the media and much of the public would side with him, even many of the ones with lingering doubts about his original intentions, or how fair any trials might actually be.

“I have also spent the last few days answering questions about Raft, some of which have been absurd. To state the obvious: we have never tortured anyone at the Raft.”

“Just like you never tortured anyone in Gitmo, right?” Karen murmured.

“We did nothing there that the special protocols did not require us to do, and they certainly don’t permit torture. The FBI did conduct interviews with the four prisoners, but they did so before they were even transferred to the Raft. As for why the Raft is built, it is absurd to claim it was done so to imprison any Avengers. We had very much hoped that those who presumed to call themselves our best heroes would acknowledge the law when the time finally came for them to.

But we’ve also hardly failed to notice that there are now, in our society, a good number of superpowered individuals, and we knew we would have to deal with those of them that commit crimes even before the Sokovia Accords officially required it. The Raft was built for that, and we will continue to use it as such for those who believe themselves to be so powerful they can break the law, as a reminder that noone is above it.”

“They’re doing it.” Matt’s voice is soft, but Foggy can still hear it shake with rage. When she glances over, she sees his fists wound around his cane, and also that he’s trembling. “They’re setting up a separate prison system for anyone with superpowers.”

Foggy and Karen exchanged an anxious glance. Neither of them could say this didn’t terrify them too.

“We began its construction during the negotiation of the Accords, and it was built to comply with them. However, the Department of State will soon be handing over control of it to the Department of Justice. In fact, many of the questions you no doubt have will already be more appropriate to direct to the Attorney General after the indictments are unveiled.”

“He’s not going to answer any of their questions,” sighed Marci. “But surely one of them’s going to ask if they’re really just going to send anyone they can classify as ‘super’ to the Raft without even considering whether a normal prison would hold them. I mean, it’s not like my client is different from any other man with his military training once you take his wings away.”

So they waited for that question, Foggy hearing Karen’s impatient huffs with all the questions Ross could now either defer or answer easily, before finally someone from WHiH asked it. “Not necessarily,” was Ross’ answer. “It may not be required in all cases.”

“Not good enough,” Karen muttered. It might not be; it might leave grounds for habeas still, especially in Sam Wilson’s case.

The press conference ended shortly after that. “I’ve got work to do,” Karen announced, even though Foggy had gotten the impression she wasn’t going to get to do any of the writing related to this whole saga; she was more likely just giving them a chance to talk freely, which she felt a rush of gratitude for.

Karen didn’t know, of course, that they couldn’t entirely, that when she was gone, Jennifer would say, “We need to talk, Murdock.” She supposed they could now claim that Barton and Lang had contacted them only now, and people would be less likely to believe she and Marci had also been involved, but Jennifer might or might not have to talk Matt into telling that lie.

“You can use my office if, you want,” she offered to them. She wanted to talk with Marci anyway. Now, when Matt would have his own conversation with Jennifer to concentrate on, would truly be an ideal time to do it.

Chapter Text

Marci shooed Jose out as well, which surprised Foggy. When they were alone, she said, “I know you’re going to want to make what they did to Wanda the center of this, now that Ross has made clear he’ll do it to her again and insist international law now mandates it-and I agree that’s a pretty terrifying precedent. But we need to get the public’s sympathy. And they’re never not going be scared of her. Sam has the good public image, and really didn’t ever need to be confined in the Raft-we’ll have to hammer that point home; that’s the hole we can blow in Ross’ narrative. I think until something happens or the first hearing date gets set, at least, you should let me do the talking to the media.”

“So that’s the stance we’re taking, then?” Foggy demanded, too loud, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Just protect the people who can be neutralized just by taking their equipment from them, saying nothing when Ross not only does whatever he wants to, but then insists that he and all his successors and equivalents in other countries are required to do that to their citizens, too?”

“It’s the one I have to take, Foggy,” she replied. “Remember, I’m Sam’s lawyer. I have to put his interests first, and right now I don’t even care how he feels about it, so don’t go talking to me about that.”

“Well.” If Marci wanted to take that route. “I’m Wanda’s lawyer, so you can’t expect me to just shut up and let you throw her under the bus.”

“But how much could you gain by blaring about this to the media right now, Foggy? You know whose side they’ll take. All you’ll do is make things harder for the rest of us. Ask Matt, he’ll tell you.”

The use of her husband’s name in that context by Marci, who after years of their acquaintance had still never really known him, who would be throwing him under the bus too in her ignorance, sent a surge of rage through Foggy that left her trembling. Her voice turned cold as she replied, “Matt would thank you not to speak for him.”

Marci recognized her reaction, but she took it in stride. “Fine, then. But there are other people who’ll also give you their opinions if you try to do this. Yeah, your friend Karen’ll be full speed ahead-until she collides right into the hasty words of her boss, since he has some sense.”

“She’ll fight, and so will Trish, and really, Marci, you should know better than to think you’ll intimidate me into conceding a fight before I’ve even begun it. And you know how discourse has gone in this country lately. Whoever is the loudest and talks the most can spew outright lies and still get a good amount of people believing them. You think I’m going to stay silent and let the other side do all that yelling?”

Marci opened her mouth, then hastily shut it. Foggy pressed on before she could think of what to say instead. “You just lost all you influence on me, for the record. You might get some of it back if you can show me before our first joint court date looms that you’re willing to have minimal consideration for my client.” That would probably be a while away now, since their clients were no longer in custody and they didn’t have to worry about their treatment anymore.

“Then there’s no point in having you in my office any longer. Although I’m going to be putting out a very general statement about reviewing the charges and how I still have questions about why it took this long to file them. Which really should be a joint statement. If there’s nothing in that you object to…” Marci inclined her head towards the door.

“That’s fine, send it to me and I’ll probably sign my name,” said Foggy, and walked out. She didn’t slam the door behind her; she didn’t want to give Marci the satisfaction. Even so, the noise of it closing was loud in her ears.

And now she had nowhere to immediately go to, not until Matt and Jennifer finished their own conversation, which she was pretty sure was going to take a lot longer than hers and Marci’s had. So instead she lingered in the hall corner with her phone, going through her latest missives. The government had just filed a bunch of motions to dismiss, mostly based off the plaintiffs no longer being in the Raft, and there were no doubt more ready to go once those indictments were out. That was enough to make her wish she and Marci hadn’t just put themselves at odds with each other. It would’ve been easier to deal with this with her aid instead.

Finally Matt and Jennifer emerged from her office. It was a safe assumption he’d walk her out, so she just waved and called out a quick, “Hi,” before all but diving into her sanctuary. She supposed Cheryl would probably come back in pretty soon, but at least she had until then to freak out and feel all lost and alone, the way she hadn’t felt since the Castle case.

The thought occurred to her, as she sat down, that she could maybe email Malcolm, because she had his address, and try to apologize for the way she’d talked to him the previous night. It was probably better if she had as few people as possible pissed off at her at any one time. But she was still in so sour a mood that she feared she’d write something that would just make things worse. She thought, too, of the letter currently locked in one of her drawers, the one Cheryl had seen the name on, but hadn’t asked any questions about. But as she’d told Wanda, that one might take a while to reach its destination.

Except now she suddenly desperately wanted to talk to Pepper. She didn’t even know why, exactly. It wasn’t like her current woes were even from the whole married-to-a-superhero thing. It didn’t matter, though, when she needed a better reason than that to risk Stark having any idea about what was going on. Now that Ross was putting on a show of giving them the judicial process, she didn’t trust him at all anymore.

So she just started drafting her responses to the various motions. Maybe Matt could help her with those, she thought. He and Jennifer were probably going to attach joinders to everything until they’d made their deals, so it wouldn’t really be improper.

She’d made a little bit of progress when her husband returned. He would’ve sensed a least some of her distress, of course, so when he came in, she just said, “Don’t ask. It’s not even…just don’t, okay?”

Matt considered for a moment, then said, “I didn’t listen in, but I can tell just from that you and Marci had a serious disagreement.”

“I know, I know, we got no poker faces. We should’ve thought of that before we took on a national-profile habeas case.”

“You and Marci do both realize the four of us need to continue to present a united front for at least a few more days, right?”

Of course he and Jennifer needed that time to pretend their clients were just now contacting them. And even then they might want to keep everything from the public while the negotiations went on. “You’ll have to talk to her,” she shrugged. “She’s drafting a statement right now for the four of us to put out, and it didn’t sound like anything you’d object to either. Once that’s out, I’m not too likely to say anything to the press for at least a few days if none of you three do.” She probably should've told Marci that, but Marci shouldn't have said what she'd said before giving her the chance to.

“Jennifer and I won’t; we can tell you two that no problem. I can also tell you she’s probably going to go back to San Francisco for at least a few days, probably leaving tomorrow.” That made sense, too; she probably wanted to make contact with a new next friend for Scott. “I’ll talk to Marci, see how she’s doing with the statement. Then I’ll head home. I’ve got some other things to take care of.” He leaned over and kissed her, and it was the kind of soft, reassuring, “we’ve got this” moment they’d still had too little of since they’d first gone to the hospital to see Frank Castle.

When Marci’s statement arrived, it was about what Foggy had expected. She was still angry at her, but she couldn’t help but admire the professionalism with which she informed the world that Ross had been lying through his teeth. She did point out that only one of the Raft’s three prisoners had actually been superpowered, but that Foggy couldn’t argue with. She replied with her approval immediately, and Matt and Jennifer had both done the same within an hour.

It was late in the day, when she was reading her way through the indictment against Steve and noting all the mentions of Bucky Barnes by name, that it first occurred to Foggy to wonder why he hadn’t been charged with the others. Had those who’d arrested him in Romania found reason to think him mentally incompetent to stand trial, or even to appreciate the wrongfulness of any recent conduct? That possibility was enough to make Foggy fear for the safety of all the Avengers all over again.

It could be something else, she also thought. Something secret the U.S. government had carefully kept out of the indictments. Something the Avengers themselves might also know, and might hypothetically tell their lawyers, who then might hypothetically determine it to be in their clients’ interests to make it public.

The fact that they had not told their lawyers this secret, of course, did not lessen the potential danger that would put the four of them in if it existed, and the government knew or even believed they might know it. Suddenly the thought of Matt and Jennifer having clandestine meetings with them, ones where they would likely be asked to not tell anyone, even family, about their taking place, was a much scarier prospect.

She had to talk to Matt about that. But it might be a better idea to have that conversation in person, especially since that would keep him from hanging up on her. There were Marci and Jennifer too, but them she just warned by email. They didn’t respond, but she hadn’t expected them to. Hopefully they would at least heed her words.

But she got home late that night. Sasha’s case took an unexpected turn, and she spent an hour on the phone with two different people. Then she was waylaid by Benowitz, who ever since Midland Circle had been harassing her about her associations with both Jessica and Luke; she knew he was harassing Jeri about it as well. After dealing with him, she finally hurried home without even trying to grab dinner, hoping Matt hadn’t eaten all the leftovers.

He hadn’t, but he had gone out; he’d left the chest out by the closet, as he usually did if she wasn’t home to see him off, even now, when he would've had to go over to Jessica's for it. Foggy put it away before walking up to the roof, and calling, “Matt?” She tried to be as loud as she could without risking anyone on the top floor hearing her. When a couple of minutes had passed, she started telling him the thoughts and fears she’d had earlier that day. She stayed up there for half an hour, but there was no sign of Matt returning. He might or might not have heard her, but if he had, it was likely he was involved in a fight out there, or possibly a chase, or something even more dangerous.

She called Karen on her way downstairs, but got her voicemail. She considered leaving a message, but then decided that her, too, she should talk with in person.

It wasn’t going to be a night for sleeping. Foggy considered trying anyway, if only because she wanted to be there when he returned more than usual, and if he had heard her, he’d come back much sooner. But it was one of those times when she couldn’t even sit down on the bed without needing to get right back up again. She spent a few minutes pacing the living room before she couldn’t stand even that. When she once again got Karen’s voicemail, she decided to see if she was home.

There was no response at Karen’s door when Foggy knocked. She called her again, and still she didn’t pick up. There was a feeling of dread building in Foggy’s gut now, one she’d learned to heed. Not that it did much good right now, when she had no idea what action she could take next.

It was enough to make her wish Frank Castle was still in New York. Although Karen herself didn’t know all that much of what he’d been doing since January or so, they were aware that he’d left the city, and Foggy knew that all three of them were taking note of all the deaths, lately, in the gangs that had been at the carousel that day. That was enough to make her wonder why the rest of the world still seemed to be assuming the Punisher was dead. Since it seemed he wasn’t going back to prison any time soon, Foggy normally thought she’d settle for him at least being out of sight and mind. But there was no denying it would be a lot harder for woe to befall Karen if he happened to be in the area.

All she could do, on the other hand, was hurry home, talking about the situation as she did so, especially since if Matt heard her sounding distressed out on the streets he was likely to zero his ears in. She got in to find the apartment still empty, but barely had time to catch her breath before she heard the familiar clatter of her husband landing on the roof.

Then she heard him running downstairs, which was never a good sign. She scrambled for the first aid kit, glad they’d at least restocked everything since this whole affair started. But when Matt came in, Foggy couldn’t see any signs of significant injuries, and when he had changed into his workout gear, presumably at Jessica’s.

Then she saw how upset he was. “Karen?” she asked, her heart dropping.

“It’s a good thing you were talking all that time, Foggy; I don’t know if I would’ve gotten to her otherwise. I found her unconscious in an alley. I think she actually escaped whoever attacked her, but…called 911 on the burner.” He hadn’t broken he stride, just come to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “But you know, if the government had attacked her, I can’t help but think they would’ve sent the police out on her by now. I started listening for it even before I found her, I couldn’t have risked the hospital if…but I’ve heard plenty of their communications and there’s been nothing.”

“So she’s got some else after her, too?” As if they didn’t have enough problems.

“Might just be one of her older friends. I’m going to have to look into it. Although do you think I should just come with you to the hospital tonight? I assume Karen will call you as soon as they let her.”

Foggy thought about it for a moment, but then said, “You’d start fretting and unnerve her more, and that’s if she didn’t feel guilty over you having to endure all the wonderful sensory input the hospital can provide. And yeah, you'll go crazy over the thought that you could instead be out there finding out who did this. So just go ahead and tail me on the roof until we find out whether Karen can remember anything useful about her assailant, and then, if you’ve got some idea of how to go after them…”

Matt knew how much it cost her to say that to him, and he took her hand as he said, “I don’t think I’ll be out much longer. Nights are really too short right now. Besides, I’ll want to get everything back to Jessica’s apartment again before she’s likely to wake up and get mad and accuse me of deliberately trying to rouse her before noon.”

About an Hour Later

Karen had called them, but she hadn’t called just them. Foggy came into her hospital room to find Mitchell Ellison already there, the two of them engaged in a conversation intense enough it took Karen a moment to notice her. When she did, and had called out Foggy’s name, he turned with a, “Ms. Nelson. Good to see you again. Where’s your husband?”

“One of his own cases wouldn’t wait. He’s anxiously waiting on the line, though.” Both those sentences were true if you stretched it enough.

“I hope he’s not wandering those streets alone right now,” Ellison shook his head. “Karen was attacked by Watchdogs, and while obviously she was more concerned with getting away when those cowards outnumbered her six to one…”

“I did stick around just long enough to hear that they objected to what the four of you are doing, and all your sneaky accomplices in the superpower-worshipping media,” Karen finished, with a tiny snort, before she added, “I’ve already texted Trish to give her a warning.”

“It’s because of the way Ross has been talking they’ve gotten so emboldened,” Ellison added. “Don’t know if you’ve heard about this, Ms. Nelson, but Karen’s the third victim of theirs in as many weeks. And that’s just the ones who lived to tell the tale. There’s also been two missing people, one registered as superpowered, the other just accused of having them.”

“Jesus,” Foggy murmured, because that news brought home the full stakes of this battle. Not to mention the knowledge that there were parts of it she couldn’t fight, and that this was why, in the end, she could never just say the city didn’t need people like Daredevil.

Who right now, on the hospital roof, was no doubt taking all this information in. Or maybe he’d had an inkling of the Watchdog attacks already. Either way he was probably mentally making plans to continue being Daredevil regularly after all, or, at the very least, until all six of the men who had attacked Karen tonight were sitting in jail cells. As, of course, he took off to try to hunt them down.

Maybe he didn’t have to do it alone this time, though. As soon as she was out of Ellison’s company, Foggy intended to call at least Danny and Colleen, who would be sure to want to help. Maybe Luke and Jessica might help as well. At the very least, she’d also call Claire, because she might be needed to help any of the victims that were afraid to go to the hospital-that was one of the dangers of the Accords that she’d recognized upon the first reading.

“If they think this is going to get me to shut up, of course,” said Karen, “they are dead wrong. And no, sir, if I’m too biased to get the byline, fine, let Jennifer keep that, but as soon as I get out of here I am going right back after them…”

“Karen…” Her boss actually sounded more alarmed than anything else.

One look at her face and Foggy took over, “Of course we’re going to investigate this, Karen. Remember Matt and I have new friends now, and they’ll be happy to help, though no, Mr. Ellison, you can’t have their names.”

Ellison just sighed, and said, “Please say they can reduce the chance of my most intrepid reporter getting killed.”

“They actually can do that,” Foggy assured him, and he looked like he believed her.

“You should call them, then,” said Karen. “Yes, now. You know at least two of them won’t mind being woken up-in fact, they’d prefer to be, if in fact they aren’t awake right now.”

Ellison looked between the two of them, and that resigned expression was one Foggy could emphasize with all too well. “I probably should be getting home anyway,” he said. “I’ll call you again in the morning. Well, after the sun rises, since it kind of is morning already.”

They did wake Colleen up. Danny, as they’d already thought he might be, was out on the streets. They could even hope Matt might seek him out, and Colleen readily agreed to call him immediately. “I can monitor the streets of much of Manhattan from here, too,” she added. “I’ll call you back when I have anything to report.”

Thankfully there was a comfortable chair next to Karen’s bed. Foggy sat down in it, saying to Karen, “Don’t worry; you won’t have to keep me entertained any. I’ll probably fall asleep within the hour, you can do the same, and hopefully when we wake up Matt will be here. Maybe you’ll even get lucky and he’ll bring some indication of you’re being discharged with him.”

“Maybe that’s a good plan,” said Karen, which was probably the exhaustion catching up with her. She lay back and closed her eyes herself.

Matt came through for them that day. Foggy woke around seven to the sound of him saying something just outside. He sounded way too sleep-deprived, but when he stepped in a moment later, he wasn’t showing any immediate signs of serious injury. On the other hand, he didn’t look happy at all. “No luck?” Foggy ventured.

“Not even with Rand’s help,” Matt sighed. “He wants to take over the grunt work for this one.”

“Let him,” Foggy urged him. “You already know there are good reasons to.” Karen echoed her.

Matt sighed, but just said, “They’ll probably be willing to discharge you after they get another look at you this morning, from what I overheard. If you don’t want to go home alone, or even at all…”

“I don’t know,” Karen replied. “Maybe I’ll spend even more time at the office. Make Ellison give up on me in despair.”

They all smiled a little at that. Then Matt turned to Foggy, and said, “I wouldn’t be able to work on any of that this evening anyway. I’ve got other business to deal with, the kind where you maybe shouldn’t wait up for me.”

“Got it.” Foggy kindly didn’t mention that the nature of that business was screamingly obvious.

A Few Days Later

The first night of Matt going out and doing something supposedly secret that at least probably wouldn’t get him arrested or beaten to hell was followed by two more. That didn’t necessarily mean things were going to go at all quickly, Foggy knew, but she sincerely hoped.

Danny had taken over the search for the Watchdogs. Colleen might have been helping somewhat, but when Matt and Foggy talked with her on the second day after, she hinted that she might not want to fight that much anymore. Foggy even thought she might hang her sword up for good. Though Matt didn’t seem convinced when she mentioned her thoughts to him later. “I seriously considered it myself, you know,” he said. “After everything that happened with Elektra. But eventually…it becomes part of who you are.”

Karen’s article had come out the next day, the words pulsing with her anger, and by the day after it seemed everyone in New York had read it. Marci still wasn’t talking to Foggy too much, but she overheard her admitting she was impressed. Trish too raised hell over the radio. But the calls in from her listeners made clear how divided opinions remained. Two different people had even called Karen a liar. Trish was apparently now in an argument with her higher ups about having Karen herself come on. Karen had noted Trish’s was the only show she was currently willing to go on. “I don’t trust any other hosts not to ambush me right now,” she’d said.

It might not have been a bad thing for the four of them, for the attention to be on her. It was days Foggy and Marci could hammer out their motions without having to answer public questions about them, and Matt and Jennifer could do whatever they needed to do during them.

That Monday, there was another piece of good news, as charges against Sasha were officially dropped. She was almost amusingly exultant when she and Foggy met to settle things up, although at least Foggy managed to talk her out of a lawsuit she’d probably lose. She and Cheryl started what looked like it was going to be a peaceful lunch with their sandwiches laid out on her desk next to a bag of doritos they would probably squabble over when it got close to empty. They talked talked about the latest office gossip, which, as always, included plenty of stories about the three partners vying against each other.

“Mary insists Chao wouldn’t move against Hogarth right now, not while the Forrest case is still going on,” Cheryl said. “But maybe we’d better hope that whole business with the Hargroves wraps up before that.”

“It won’t,” Foggy sighed. “Not unless they take the plea bargain. Which they really shouldn’t, when they did nothing wrong.” She had to complain about that whenever she could, because Jeri got annoyed when she did so around her.

“It’s not the best offer right now anyway, is it?” said Cheryl. “You really should tell Jeri that actually, it does matter whether you’re righteous or not, if only because…”

A knock on the door interrupted her. Cheryl sighed, and was moving to get up, when they heard Marci’s cautious, “Foggy?”

“I’ll get it,” said Foggy, jumping up, because this definitely sounded like something had just happened.

She opened the door to a Marci who looked too wary. Cheryl could see it too, from across the room, and asked, “Okay, Ms. Stahl, what has she done wrong this time?”

Marci shook her head, but her expression didn’t change. “Have you seen the latest piece of news involving the Watchdogs?” At Foggy’s confused no, she said, “Six of them have just been found dead in an alley, shot, laid out with their masks right next to them. I don’t know if anyone’s asked Karen to identify them, or if she even would be able to, but…”

Foggy didn’t try to mask her shock, but she knew she was concealing much indeed, when she only said, “You don’t think any of us would have done that, do you, Marce?”

“Well,” Marci started, “I know it’s not even Daredevil’s style…”

“That it isn’t,” Foggy said, her anger with her rising back up. “And maybe Karen hasn’t even been their most recent target. Maybe they met their deaths at the hands of whoever was. Maybe it’s not even them. You don’t know.”

“I suppose,” said Marci. “And no, I don’t think any of the three of you would ever have voluntarily had anything to do with this, or even Daredevil…I just think the whole thing’s…”

“It kind of is,” Foggy conceded. “But let’s wait on the facts. Maybe this will sort itself out.”

Maybe indeed it would, and she, Matt, and Karen would have to try to convince the world that they’d been as in the dark as everyone else. It was hard enough right now, not blurting out to Marci and Cheryl that actually, she knew exactly what had just happened. She really should’ve been more careful what she’d wished for the previous week.

Chapter Text

A few days later there came an evening where Foggy and Matt got to walk home together for once, without any plans on Matt's part to go anywhere until after breakfast the following morning. It was all so ideal it gave Foggy the ominous feeling that someone was going to waiting for them in their apartment again.

Still, it was startling when Matt stopped on the stairwell. But after a moment, Foggy gathered herself together and asked, "Okay, who's waiting for us up there?"

A moment later, however, he relaxed, and said, "It's just Karen." They continued up the stairs then, even as Matt said, "She's really anxious, though. Pacing." That could be for any number of reasons, none of them good.

By the time they'd reached their floor, Matt himself was looking very anxious indeed. Foggy was imagining Karen about to ask them to help on a completely new quest for justice, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely the ones who'd attacked her, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely not the ones who'd attacked her, or even having another possibly-illegal deed to confess to.

"Karen?" Matt called as they stepped into the apartment. "What.s wrong?"

"You'd better sit down," she said. "You might want to get alcohol first, too." She gestured to the counter; she'd brought them beer.

When they were all sitting down, drinks in their hands, she said, "Frank paid me a visit yesterday."

Instantly Matt was demanding, "What? What did he want? He wasn't expecting you to thank him, was he? Are you afraid he'll come back?"

"No, no, he wasn't going to...I did tell him he shouldn't have killed those men, but he kind of ignored me there...someone knew he was alive. He wanted to know if I'd told anybody. I, uh, I did tell him I told you, but I insisted to him you wouldn't have told anyone, that I'd even gotten a promise from you to consider it privileged, Foggy."

"I don't think he trusts us that easily, Karen," said Matt.

"Yeah, he said that, that he trusts me, but not you. I might have given him an earful on that subject too in response." She actually smiled a little.

"You think any of it took?" Foggy asked. To her surprise, she felt a little indignant at Frank. Karen kept saying he was a man of his own code of honor; how could he have not recognized and respected the fact that his two lawyers were the same?

"I don't know," she said. "He wants me to help with this guy who seems to be stalking him, but the only moniker he's got for him is 'Micro.'"

"You're not seriously thinking about helping him, are you?" Foggy wouldn't have thought she would, but now...

Karen looked down for a moment, then said, "There's something going on here. I'm not even sure what it is, but...Micro managed to contact Frank, and he called himself another 'dead man,' another 'ghost in New York.' That could mean any number of things...but why would he contact Frank like this when he clearly doesn't know him, which means he only knows what the world's said about him, which would lead him to think Frank would definitely kill him? What kind of man would take that chance?"

It was Matt who answered: "A desperate one."

That did seem very possible, but Foggy had to say, "Or an extremely dangerous one. Look, Karen, even if you trust Frank..."

"Well, if this guy's stalking him, he might even know about me, anyway. It's only sensible I try to find some information out about him, know what we're dealing with. You might have to deal with him too, you know."

"Are you going to tell Frank about whatever you find?" Matt asked. "At least if you don't think he's in serious danger with this guy and he needs to know about that?"

"I don't know," said Karen, which sounded way too much like a yes, even when she added, "I'll probably decide once I know what there is to tell." She probably genuinely believed that right now. "Who knows, maybe I'll be able to help him and we won't have to get Frank involved." That, obviously not so much.

"You've been keeping an ear out for Frank, right, Matt?" Foggy asked. Matt had actually gone out for the first few nights after the Watchdogs had turned out dead mostly for that.

"I have," said Matt. "I haven't found a hint of him doing anything of remark besides killing these men, and even that I didn't have confirmed, although if he didn't deny it to you, Karen...I don't think he's even killed anyone else in a while; I've started to doubt there are any members of those gangs he was after left. I'm not quite sure where he's living. I think it's probably not in Hell's Kitchen itself. I do know he's gotten hired from a construction project down in the Lower East Side where they pay in cash, and that he often stays there after hours, even when they refuse to pay him for it." He shook his head. "Under different circumstances I'd be talking to him about how he really shouldn't be letting them exploit his labor like that, especially since at least some of his co-workers actually believe he's intellectually disabled."

A soft "oh" came out of Karen. It was obvious enough how they could've arrived at such a conclusion.

"I could probably look into this Micro myself," Matt continued. "Especially if you can get any more on him or how to identify him."

"You should definitely give us that," Foggy said to Karen.

"Of course I will," she said. Guessing Foggy's next question, she added, "I suppose I can hold off contacting Frank again until we've talked about whatever I find. It might take a little bit of time for him to respond, anyway. I'm afraid the only method of contact he left me was a pot of flowers to put in my window."

Foggy actually laughed. She couldn't help it.

But Matt frowned, and said, "That won't work without him at least semi-stalking you, which puts you at risk for being suspected to be his accomplice."

"Not necessarily," said Karen. "He's all too good at going undetected, and remember, everyone except the three of us and this one guy still thinks he's dead."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue further, but Foggy could tell it wouldn't do anything. So she just said, "Better get this done quickly, then."

"As fast as I can manage," Karen said, too quickly. Foggy didn't doubt she would try to get this done as fast as she could, but perhaps she would regret it. It was no secret that Frank Castle meant a lot to her, way more than he should, way more than either of them had ever intended for. Even under these circumstances, she must have been very happy to see him, and when this was done, who knew if she ever would again.

Matt insisted on shadowing her home. "For all we know, this Micro might have identified you already."

"Well," Foggy noted, "that would make it easy to find him, wouldn't it?"

With his costume over at Jessica's, Matt went to dress in black, while Foggy and Karen used the few minutes to wash out the used glasses. "Karen..." Foggy started when they were done.

"I may not know exactly what I'm doing," said Karen, "but there are some things you just have to do in life, and some people you just have to do them for-Matt's one of those people for both of us, and we're two of them for him. Like it or not, Frank's another one of them for me. I don't even entirely know why, Foggy, he just is."

Foggy couldn't say she didn't understand the feeling. "Just...be careful," she said. "Remember who he is and what he's done, and especially what he may be doing right now. Even if you don't do anything about it, don't actually forget that."

"I know," Karen sighed. "I'll try."

So Foggy was left alone that evening after all; she didn't even expect Matt to come back for a long while. But the conversation with Karen seemed to have already taken a bit out of her. Making herself a quick dinner and reviewing the latest filings from the government's lawyers easily did the rest. When she started to nod off while trying to read them, she put herself to bed, and was sound asleep within moments.

Later That Night

When the footsteps first woke Foggy, of course she assumed they were Matt, though when she tapped the clock, the time it gave out was earlier than she would've expected. Hastily she jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, calling, "Matt, are you okay? Did you run into..."

Then she saw who was standing there, and hastily grabbed Matt's cane, the easiest weapon on hand.

Frank put his hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "You ain't someone I'm ever gonna hurt. Your husband wouldn't be either, but...well, that he's not here right now makes me pretty damn sure he happens to be someone I have already when he was wearing a mask, am I right?"

"I'm not confirming anything," Foggy snapped. She mostly believed him, but that just left her very annoyed at him. So she added, "But if it was true, surely it would occur to you that, really, having one vigilante continually coming in to wake me up at night is enough!"

"Look, I just need to talk to you two," he said. "Karen said she didn't want any more secrets between the three of you, even mine."

"She's only told us the ones that directly involved her," said Foggy. "Given the kind of turmoil some of that shit's caused her? You couldn't just demand she suffer in silence. And believe it or not, Mr. Castle, some lawyers actually have ethics, and as I'm sure she's told you, mine keep me from breathing a word about you to anyone, and Matt...well, I think he's pretty much decided to treat it the same way, and anyway, the three of us have taken to keeping each other's secrets beyond that."

Foggy thought she was convincing him, and for a moment she thought he might even just go away. But then he said, "If I'm right...Red's got really good hearing, hasn't he? Maybe to the point he might already know I'm here?"

"Still not confirming anything; please cease and desist with such questions." She even managed to keep her lawyer's face and tone in place, fat lot of good they were probably doing.

Except it seemed Matt would rather the Punisher know his secret than Foggy be left alone with him, because just then came the telltale thump on the roof, and Frank had the nerve to actually smile. "Red?" he called.

Matt had gone to Jessica's and changed into his proper armor, but he didn't even keep the mask on, hastening down with it held in his hands, which Foggy would've thought would've made it harder for him to fight. That left her so put out she just sighed, "You did not have to, Matt. Did you even think this through?"

"Foggy," he sighed back, "when the Punisher surprises your wife in your apartment, and your wife is also a lawyer working at a firm that has made some very morally dubious choices in its time, you are not taking any chances. Also, Frank, I want to know what I can do to get you to leave Karen out of this."

Frank shook his head. "It's her decision to help, Red. Only way we could've controlled that was I not tell her anything, so now..."

"He's got a point there, Matt," said Foggy, "much as I hate to say it. And you know to some extent Karen can take care of herself."

"To some extent," they heard Frank mutter under his breath. Well, a little too late for him to be lamenting who Karen was.

"Still," said Matt, "If maybe by lending you a hand, I can get her out of this quicker..."

Frank spared Foggy to need to yell it by saying it himself: "That's not how this works, Red. You wouldn't be able to let me kill anyone, I know that. Like I told you that one time..."

"Are you sure you're going to have to kill anyone on this one, Frank? I mean, I think if this Micro was intending to go after you, the last thing he would've done was put you on your guard."

"That assumes his behavior makes sense. He could be one of those crazy-ass villains who likes taunting people in very stupid ways."

"And if Karen finds something that indicates he's not?" Matt persisted.

Frank considered it. "Okay, maybe this'll end up being something you can help me on. Hell, you might know before I do, since I'm pretty sure Karen'll report to you before she does to me. That's fine, I ain't gonna push her on that one."

Sometimes Foggy forgot that Frank Castle could be a very smart man when he wanted to be. He would've first been caught a lot earlier if he hadn't been, after all. He probably also knew that Karen was more likely than not to tell him, and if for some reason she didn't, she'd almost certainly come to that decision completely on her own.

"Until then," said Frank, "I'll stay out of your way. If someone else attacks Karen, I'd appreciate it if you returned the favor."

"You do realize," Foggy said, "that she didn't want you to kill people for her? I know she told you that you shouldn't have killed those Watchdogs."

"And what if they come after her again? Those bastards have killed people who haven't done anything more than accidentally acquire superpowers, and next time they go after her she might not get as lucky, and I just can't..." He shook his head and made a frustrated noise.

So desperate to protect the life of someone reckless with it that he'd kill to do it, even against their wishes. And Foggy couldn't protest further without being a hypocrite.

Especially when her husband had folded his arms and said to the Punisher, "I'm not going to make any such promise."

But Frank just shrugged and said, "Your choice, then," and turned and headed out the way he had come. Foggy supposed they could've tried to detain him and call the police, but it honestly felt wrong to, and they probably wouldn't have succeeded anyway.

The Next Morning

Foggy definitely wanted to tell Karen about Frank's visit, but she was now too paranoid to even hint about it over the phone. So she just told her she'd like to meet her for lunch, and Karen only replied that she didn't know if she'd have time for it that day, and Foggy couldn't even tell her that the presumed reason for that was what she wanted to talk to her about.

So instead there was an ordinary morning, at least as much as they had those these days. Matt had gone back out after Frank's departure, but Foggy thought he'd pretty much just gone to Jessica's and back. He'd woken up the next day very broody, but he'd always done that a lot. And he did look a bit more cheerful after he'd had some coffee.

It was nice enough a day to walk to work, which Foggy made a point of still doing sometimes. It would get hotter later that day, and the humidity wasn't all that promising, but it wasn't doing anything to her hair that couldn't be smoothed out on the elevator ride up.

She was walking into the building when her phone rang. Seeing is was Alias Investigations' number, Foggy sidled over to a corner of the lobby while she answered it.

"Hey, Ms. Nelson, it's Malcolm Ducasse. We've been working on who leaked those emails, and it looks like they were linked by people either in or linked to the Department of Homeland Security. We've got emails that go all the way up to Carson Wolf, the Special Agent in Charge for New York."

"What kind of emails?" Foggy forced her voice to remain neutral.

"Nothing that proves anything yet, unfortunately, though it is Ms. Jones' professional opinion," from the humor in his voice Foggy could imagine just how professionally that opinion had originally been delivered, "that they make it hard to believe he wasn't at least in the know, and possibly the main guy behind the leaks. Unfortunately, he also think he's very good at getting out of trouble; he even got the Bulletin to not run a story at one point."

"Really?" Karen would be all over that, obviously. "Any idea of what that might have been about?"

"Well, at a guess, I would think it was about the supposed criminal that Wolf shot and killed out in the street last October, because he did do that. A guy called Lieberman, had been working for the NSA. White guy, too, so I don't think Wolf murdered him just for kicks. Probably whatever really happened's classified."

There were reasons someone might ask the head of a newspaper not to publish something. Some of them were even legitimate, though most of those wouldn't want a story withheld from the public forever, just until an investigation concluded, or something like that. Foggy didn't think this was a case of that. "Well," she said, "thanks for telling us all that. I'll talk to my three colleagues, and then call you or Jessica again later?"

Although since the four of them had pretty much agreed they could tell Karen who leaked the emails, the first thing she did after hanging up was text her, We really do need that lunch. And can you hold off on your latest project until then? Of course, they'd be in trouble anyway if the wrong person had been listening in or her and Malcolm, or listened into the upcoming conference call that now had to happen, but at least it would be a little harder for Wolf to use that against them publicly, and texts also remained riskier than phone calls anyway. Thankfully Karen's response was a simple acquiescence, arriving as she stood in the elevator.

She then texted both Matt and Jennifer, telling them only that she had news and to call into Marci's number for a conference call. She spotted Jose working on something with one of the other PAs, which probably made things easier. Cheryl would arrive in about half an hour, by which time Foggy hoped to have a better idea of how to explain this one to her. Though if the likes of Carson Wolf ever even breathed the names of her children, Foggy would wrangle out of the law every way she could find to heap as much misery on him as possible.

When she called Marci's name, the door opened, and her friend said to her "Whatever's happening today..."

"Involves us being wronged by someone powerful. React to that how you will."

"Oh dear..." was how she reacted to that. That was pretty understandable.

Matt had already called in, and Jennifer did so pretty quickly, so Foggy was able to tell all three of them at once. Jennifer's reaction involved a surprising amount of swear words, while Matt didn't say anything immediately. Marci just stood there with her brow furrowed, and Foggy found herself thinking she just might be the first of them to devise a plan that had a real chance of getting something accomplished.

Maybe she would have, too, if Matt hadn't said, "Maybe we need to get our hands on more of Wolf's email. Marci, Jennifer, if Foggy and I said we might know someone who might be able to get them but that we can't tell you any more, would you be willing to trust us?"

Marci looked up at Foggy, and Foggy had absolutely no idea how she kept a straight face on, or really, how she managed to not drop her jaw in complete and utter shock that Matt would make this suggestion. Maybe he didn't mean who she thought he meant, she told herself. Maybe he was hoping to get into contact with Romanov or something.

That was probably what Marci thought he was planning to do when she said, "Well, I trust Foggy at least." Great, more for Foggy to feel guilty over.

At least until she got that wicked grin, and said, "Do you think you could ask your hacker friend to get the embarrassing emails? See if maybe he committed crimes purely for himself; that would be more likely to bring him down."

"I'll certainly put in that request," said Matt, and he sounded far too happy. Foggy had been right to worry about him and Marci putting their heads together.

As soon as she was out of Marci's office afterwards, she texted Matt, We talk before you do anything. At least this time he too quickly acquiesced. Although just after she'd sat down in her own office, he then texted, All three of us should do lunch today. He'd already texted Karen, too, and when her agreement came on his heels, Foggy decided not to argue.

Lunchtime

This had swiftly become the kind of lunch where they didn't want anyone overhearing them, so they ended up first in Matt and Foggy's apartment, then up on the roof when Matt was confident they wouldn't be overheard there. The summer was starting to come on, and soon it would be too hot out for this. But on that day, noontime found the temperature pleasant enough, and Matt had made them all turkey sandwiches with the perfect amount of mayo. Foggy would've enjoyed it if it wasn't for the pair of conversations she was facing.

Except they ended up getting unintentionally merged when, having heard first about Frank's night visit without comment, and then about Carson Wolf, Karen asked, "If we find this Micro person and he turns out to be a hacker, are you going to ask him for help with that? I think that might get us all tangled up together where I, and probably Frank too, will find out more about what's going on than you'd want, just to warn you."

"If Matt has been thinking of that," said Foggy, wishing for the umpteenth time these two people of hers weren't so alike, "hopefully that would be one of the many things to give him pause."

"Maybe," said Karen, "but the other side is already breaking the rules, so can't you at least bend them? You don't have to actually tell me anything, you know."

"Unless not knowing it endangers your life," Foggy countered,"which, by the way, is one of those ethical dilemmas I've had nightmares about from the time I decided I wanted to become a lawyer, but you getting tangled up in the matter of Carson Wolf takes it from something that could possibly someday happen to something that seems all too likely to happen."

"I think," Matt said quietly at this point, "that such a dilemma is not one that would last very long, Foggy."

Of course it wouldn't. Of course Matt would take care of it for her. She felt like an idiot for not realizing that already. Which only left her angrier at them both.

And much more so at Matt. Whirling on him, she said, "Since we don't known about any imminent threats to any of our lives just this moment, in front of Karen I will say only that you are a reckless idiot who decides to do something and doesn't stop to consider even the most obvious reasons for it being a terrible idea, and when the potential consequences for this one..."

"The way I see it," said Karen, who, Foggy supposed, could answer freely when Matt couldn't, "you're going up against the powerful, and you've already relied on one ally with a lot of technical ability whom you could never really trust fully. If, perfectly hypothetically, you're now going to bring in another one, well, there's a good chance such an individual would be a better person than Tony Stark, at least."

There was a genuine chance of that, but Foggy had more doubts than Karen did. "Of course if we were doing anything," she said, "I doubt Marci would agree to let us to confirm a thing to you about how until we've got more reportable information, so..."

"I'll go ahead and talk to Ellison about Wolf, then?" Karen asked. "Maybe he'll even have more information about this guy he gunned down. Shows a nasty pattern of consistent behavior, in any case."

She was even nice enough to clear out a little early, and Foggy and Matt were finally left alone. It wasn't five seconds after she left the roof that he said, "Look, I know this Micro might not turn out to be someone we want to trust at all, and if so, he'll never hear about any of this."

"And how much are you going to investigate and how much are you just going to rely on your gut?" she countered. "Especially if you aren't going to let Marci or Jennifer be involved in that decision-hell, will you even let me have my say, or will you just make up your mind when you run into him in the middle of only you the Devil knows where..."

"I can keep from doing that," said Matt. "It might not be just me monitoring him anyway-or me and Frank either," because he knew what Foggy would think of that, "I think Rand's likely to get himself involved in this too, sooner or later. Ever since Karen was attacked he's been trying to keep an eye on just about everything south of Central Park."

"That's not of much comfort, quite frankly," said Foggy. "Not when I've had Colleen argue to me that he's even worse than you. Besides, we don't know what would happen if he and Frank ran into each other, and maybe it would be better to not find out, you know?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "Although who knows, maybe Frank'll end up getting mixed up with Carson Wolf as well. Karen told you that there's evidence the Department of Homeland Security was connected to that sting operation gone wrong, right?"

"Oh, come on," Foggy sighed. "Surely our lives aren't going to turn out to be that crazy...."

Chapter Text

Foggy's afternoon was a welcomingly boring one. Cheryl seemed a little distant the entire day, but she could have her space if she needed it. Matt met her at the run-down pizza place she loved, where the pizza was so good he was willing to tune out the smell, he'd told her. Or the cheese was, anyway; they did know better than to let any of the toppings come near Matt. He did make several very soft spoken comments about the mushrooms on the slice the person nearest them were eating, which mostly made Foggy laugh.

They were nibbling the last bit of that glorious cheese off the crusts (possibly also worth eating; Foggy was still evaluating) when the text came from Karen. We need to talk. Your place again.

Matt got a second text as they were walking home, the phone announcing it as being from Jennifer. "I'll listen to it later," he said. "I know she doesn't want me for anything tonight."

Which meant he'd probably go out, unless Karen kept them a very long time. She felt tempted to encourage the other woman to do so.

They came in to find Karen had again brought beer. She'd already drunk halfway through the first bottle, which didn't make her look any less wound up.

Foggy walked fast to get her beer, Matt hurrying after her, which was how they got them open before she burst out, "You know that white guy Carson Wolf murdered in public in broad daylight? Maybe not as dead as we thought. Also, possibly Micro."

Matt actually laughed, the asshole. Foggy made a large angry movement with her arm, but that only reduced him to mild giggling.

Until Karen said, "Ellison got a source basically saying he'd been leaking dirty secrets. Then he got a visit from Wolf who spun the whole 'it'll interfere with an ongoing investigation' act, and it worked; he shelved the story. He let me have a copy of it." And she'd come with copies for Foggy and Matt both prepared.

They both read in silence, and then Matt said, "I'm afraid if Frank gets his hands on this, he'll go after Wolf, and there's a good chance that'll end with him killing him."

"And even putting aside the moral problem with that," Foggy added, "The four of us and our clients probably need him alive, Karen."

"But if we don't tell him," said Karen, "what do we do instead? We and possibly this one hacker who is who-knows-where in this city are the only ones who have even multiple parts of the picture of this powerful man, and I am not going to just sit on that knowledge. At the very least, I want to know just what Micro had on him."

Foggy saw the twitch on Matt's face, and sighed, "You want to go interrogate him in Frank's place, don't you?"

Matt actually was silent for a moment, then said, "I know it might not be the best idea, if he thinks we sent Daredevil. But I'm not sure what the alternatives are. Unless we can track down this hacker."

"Well," said Karen, "if he was able to track Frank down, and also that he knew it was him who'd killed the Watchdogs in the first place, he's obviously somewhere with a lot of hardware, and maybe not a lot of other people. He also does have a wife and two children, and I don't know if they have any idea whether he's still alive or not, but..."

"If he's in Manhatten," said Matt, "I could probably find him within a week or so. But are we sure he's even in New York City at all?"

"Ghost in New York was what he told Frank," said Karen. "I wish we could get more on him. I wonder...if maybe you went to Frank, and tried to get more details out of him? Unless you think Frank would try to hurt you, but...well, I don't think he would."

"Probably not," Foggy said, "but you might not be able to get rid of him before you find Micro. We don't even know how good that guy is at tracking, but obviously he's pretty good at it. And I would not trust Frank not to kill our quarry."

"Maybe," Karen started hesitantly, "if we talked to Frank about why we need him not to..."

"I wouldn't trust to that with Wolf," said Matt, "because I think there's a good chance he might be linked to that so-called sting gone wrong that killed his family."

That felt like a shock for only a moment, until Foggy thought about it. "I suppose if he did try to kill one guy to keep him from revealing what he knew...."

"And he has links to Kandahar, where Frank was deployed," Karen chimed in. "And really, all sorts of stuff happens in Afghanistan they don't want anyone knowing about. It's very possible, you know, that we haven't known half the truth of why that shootout at the carousel happened, especially when the woman who organized the sting got gunned down with extreme prejudice right in front of us-you know, we assumed it was Schoonover at the trigger, but he's not alive to confirm it either, and it could've easily been someone else still alive."

"Karen," Foggy said, "you do realize that if you're saying you think that whole thing was a very elaborate attempt to shut a certain someone up, the person who could confirm whether or not they actually might want to do that is still very much alive?" She shook her head. "I can't believe I'm suggesting this."

"She doesn't have to be the one to ask him about it," Matt said quickly. "She's not even necessarily the person most likely to get a confession out of him. He might not be willing to talk to her about it."

"He knows I'm no innocent flower," said Karen. "He doesn't know everything about me, but he does know that." But after another moment's thought, she added, "But I can't see myself having this conversation with him without revealing I talked with the two of you."

"If that's the case," said Matt, "I might as well come with you. At least for the first part of your meeting, though if he really wants to talk to only you, I can retreat."

"How far?" Karen asked. "He knows about the superhearing, right?"

"Yeah," said Foggy. "I suppose you could lurk up on the buildings nearby and come running if you feel you have to intervene."

Matt looked pleased at the idea, but Karen shook her head. "I don't like being less than honest with Frank. And anyway, he probably wouldn't trust you enough for that. You come with me, you come with me, simple as that. And really, I don't know if he would believe you weren't in earshot if you didn't come. Even if I said you weren't and he believed I was telling the truth, he'd likely just think you were there without my knowing it."

She was probably right about all that, so they agreed to it, and Karen went home to put the flowers up in her window. Matt kissed Foggy in the way he often did just before going to put the suit on; Foggy wished she knew how to feel about that. She'd retreated to her own work by the time he was heading out the roof entrance.

A Few Days Later

Foggy didn't even know that Matt and Karen were going to see Frank that afternoon until the evening. Matt called her on her way home to tell her they were coming back together with tacos, and she pretty much knew then. She got home first, and when Matt and Karen came in, she took in their troubled looks, and sighed, "How badly did it go?"

"He should keep from killing Wolf for now," said Karen. "He wasn't too happy about it, though. Especially because his opinion of your clients isn't too high right now. The way he talked about Sam Wilson...he seems to see him and Rogers as having both betrayed the country they'd vowed to serve."

"Just by going rogue? That's a bit rich coming from him," said Foggy, because it was. "Does he even know about the part where Rogers was expected to just stand by and let the man who was his old sergeant as well as his best friend be murdered?"

"We should've pointed that out," Matt commented. "It might need to be spelled out to him, since I don't think they're actually admitting to it, but I think he'd believe it once it was. He's certainly been through enough himself for that, and if he doesn't know that now, I'm afraid he's going to find out very soon."

"He was involved with some very bad stuff in Afghanistan," said Karen, and her voice was trembling, just a little. "Stuff overseen by the CIA. He believes they had Congressional approval, but, well, I wonder. He also thought to tell me this time that this isn't the first he's heard from Micro. You remember how his house burned down?"

"That was Micro?!" Foggy had to suppress to urge to demand they both run far away from this and let Frank do whatever the hell he wanted with this hacker.

Until Karen said, "No, it was Frank himself. He just..." She had to stop there, before continuing, "But before he did it, he found a CD there labelled 'Micro.' Containing a video of what he and his squadmates did under Schoonover, on CIA orders. He wouldn't tell us any more about its contents than that, but whatever they were doing on there, he wasn't proud of it. Might have even been downright ashamed. I....I couldn't entirely tell."

Matt put an arm around her. She leaned into him without protest, eyes closed.

"And you think they might have tried to kill him to keep him from telling the wrong people?" Foggy tried to keep it gentle as she nonetheless asked, "But what about his squadmates? Have they gone after them, too? Who even filmed them in the first place? Does he have any idea?"

"If he did, he didn't say," said Matt. "We did ask about his squadmates, but he's only kept track of one of them, and he's apparently doing just fine, got out and has a successful company here in New York. But he seems to think he pissed off their CIA liaison in particular-hinted there was some sort of altercation. He did say the incident he got the medal for was related to their activities, and remember, he protested the mission beforehand, since he rightly though it was a trap."

"Who knows, they might have been trying to get them killed on purpose," said Karen, pulling away from Matt. "And now they're after both of these men for what they know, committing murders to cover up probably more murders and who knows what else..."

Reminding her they didn't actually know that for sure was probably useless, the state she was in. "If you're right," Foggy said instead, "I think all three of us and most of our friends really want to see that bastard arrested, or at least discredited. If we don't want to confront him just yet, then we want to find Micro before Frank does. We don't know what he'd do to him, and even if he doesn't hurt him, he could still easily intimidate him out of doing anything besides grabbing his family and fleeing the city."

Matt and Karen nodded together. "I'll start looking for him," he said.

"I can do a little more research on this city," said Karen. "Maybe I'll find some possible locations."

So of course Matt went out that night, and as soon as they'd finished the tacos too. Karen offered to stay, but Foggy was pretty sure she was going to nap anyway, then finish the day's work. "I've got enough here I might just still be working when he gets back," she noted.

Except her nap didn't last as long as she would've liked. Foggy was beset by restless dreams, mixing gunshots and soundclips of Ross with images of Wanda looking frightened, then beaten and bloody, much the way Matt often was when he limped home-and then, oddly enough, of Jennifer lying injured and near death. It wasn't even an hour before she started awake, and knew within a few minutes she wasn't getting back to sleep. And then, just to frustrate her more, she found herself struggling to concentrate on her work, her mind stubbornly clinging onto Matt out in the darkness.

It was nearly dawn when Matt returned to find her pressing her head down on the desk, doing too little of anything at all. He didn't say anything at all at first, just leaned down and ran his hands soothingly down the back of her neck and shoulders, before pressing hard against the knot that had formed in one of her shoulder blades. Foggy let herself relax, closing her eyes, not holding back the groan of pain fading into pleasure.

He made sure the knot was completely gone, before he said, "I found Lieberman. His hide-out was right by the water, and had enough computers I could hear them from the bridge."

Foggy shot upward, all her tension coming straight back. "That sounds more like a crazy man to me. What the hell is he up to? Is he planning to kill anyone?"

"I might get him to avoid that part. In fact, I think he wasn't at all unhappy that I found him. He wanted help from Frank, but it's possible we can give that to him without Frank getting involved. Especially since his priority is being able to go home safely. The problem is, not only does he know too much for that, but we don't even know how many people want him dead because of it-and what we do know is Wolf's not even the highest-ranked of them."

"And what exactly does he know?" asked Foggy. "And how much pain is it going to cause poor Karen if she has to hear about it?"

"At least some, even if maybe it won't surprise her too much," said Matt grimly. "Frank's squad was commandeered by the CIA to torture and kill people. Commanded to commit war crimes, and they all of them committed them. They were told Congress had approved, which apparently was enough for them to do it, but that wasn't even true. And someone recorded them doing it, beating and then shooting a man who claimed he wasn't a terrorist...Leiberman played me the video, and I could only hear his voice, of course, but..." Matt had to paused them, the impact of it clearly still with him. "It left both of us convinced he'd done nothing wrong."

The horrificness of it all was too much for Foggy for a moment, and she couldn't help but say, "I really wish now we'd never taken him as a client."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue, but knew better. "Lieberman didn't quite tell me how he got hold of the video, and he did say he doesn't know whose hands it passed through before it reached him. He first tried to pass it on to this Homeland Security agent the victim worked with-and he's since hacked into enough stuff to be dead certain she didn't know-and he tried to cover his tracks but, well, it seems he didn't do good enough a job of it."

"What about the agent?" Foggy asked. "If they know she's received the video..."

"She's still alive right now," said Matt, "and from what he can gather, she's still in Afghanistan, hasn't managed to do anything about it yet, and they're trying to find an excuse to pull her out. She's a resident of New York City, so if they succeed, we could add her to the list of people to potentially talk to."

"You want to trust a Homeland Security agent? Even if she wasn't involved in what happened with her partner, even if she genuinely liked him...well, you know what Karen will say."

"I think we know what she's going to say for a lot of things. But she's still in Afghanistan right now, anyway, and we can't do anything to help her there. Even if we could get in contact with the Avengers, and they were willing to do something, I'm not sure they could."

Foggy kind of wished they could at the moment, though. She supposed it was a little dicey, the general statement it would make if the higher-profile heroes gone rogue were the ones exposing governmental corruption, but the spiteful, angry part of her wanted it anyway. Besides, it would probably make their own job easier.

Except Matt was continuing: "Although that amount of access that guy has to information is kind of scary. If they send any communications possibly related to doing anything to her, he could try to hinder them. And a guy who can set up cameras in his own house and keep them running for months without his wife and kids having any idea as yet..."

"They don't know he's alive, then," Foggy interrupted, because that suddenly became something she wanted to have confirmed.

Here, Matt knew what she could say to that. "Foggy," he said, "you can't deny it's safer for them that way. The way Lieberman described all three of them, there'd almost certainly be at least one of them that just would not sit still, and the minute they take action, or even accidentally let slip his still being alive to the wrong person, all three of them become hopelessly easy targets."

"True," Foggy said, and he hoped her read her hammering heart as her not believing that, but just not being willing to argue with him over it at the moment. And that this was the reason she then said, "So who goes to have the word with Wolf? Does anyone?"

"I don't know how much he has that Lieberman didn't," said Matt. "And he even said he'd find out what he can about how those emails got leaked. We might find reason to risk it eventually, or even not long from now, but..."

"Try to do everything sneakily first?" Foggy did approve of that idea. Doing things sneakily first did reduce the amount of violence a little bit. "Or maybe just let the professional investigators do things sneakily first?"

"I've talked to Jessica about it already. She seemed rather unimpressed with the lot of us, but said she'd try to find a few more names for us, at least."

"Good," said Foggy. "Now, tell me you can sleep for at least a handful of hours before you need to be anywhere." He was at least tired enough he would; she could tell that much.

When he nodded, head nearly shaking up and down, Foggy let herself have a deep breath, hoping Matt would chalk that up to her bringing herself down from the night's news. Then, without any further words, she linked their arms together and led him into the bedroom. She helped him strip down to leggings, and even the climb into the bed. This was something she did sometimes, though usually when he was so tired he was nearly falling over. She had to hope he was too tired to wonder why she was doing it now.

If he did, he didn't ask. Foggy kissed him under his eyes as they fell shut, then went to shower and change into fresh clothes. He was fast asleep by the time she was done, having succeeded in saying no more words to him that could've helped tip him off to the fact that she was about to go somewhere other than just directly to the office.

Mid-Morning

The train ride had taken longer than Foggy would've liked. She might even get questions at work about where she had been, and she wasn't sure she could tell Cheryl about this one, for multiple reasons. But she had already defied bigger reasons not to do this than that.

The Lieberman home was located in a pretty nice part of Queens, and far enough a walk away from the Metro that Foggy had plenty of opportunities to glance over her shoulder. Maybe even more so because it wasn't even just their foes she was worried about.

Sarah Lieberman worked as a nurse, and when Foggy walked up to her door, she didn't even know if she'd be there; she had no idea of her schedule. She had to come after the kids had gone off to school, though. She wasn't so much of an idiot as to try this when the two kids were around.

As she approached the front door, she tried to look for the cameras without giving away that she was doing so. She didn't spot anything. It was also hard to keep a straight face, knowing that in all probability, David "Micro" Lieberman was sitting in front of one of his multiple computers watching her, all paranoid and thinking she was there to do who-knows-what. And yet she suspected none of his guesses about her purpose would be the right one.

Foggy had to really hope Mrs. Lieberman was home, or, at the very least, she would be home the first time she came back here. Lieberman saw her here three times, he'd probably take some sort of very possibly disastrous action.

But she ended up not having to worry about any of that. Half a minute after she'd rapped on the door twice, it was answered by a weary-looking woman who asked if she could help her in an all too distracted tone.

"Hello, my name is Annabelle Sharpe," Foggy started, keeping her voice remarkably steady considering that she usually didn't do this particular kind of lying, "and I'm here to settle a dispute between a couple of your neighbors over their properties and what belongs to who. Don't worry, it doesn't involve you, but we would like your aid in establishing exactly where your own property ends and the Pallems' to the right begins."

"Oh, sure, of course. I've got the papers for that in...in the office. Just give me a second." Foggy was glad to. It gave her a chance to glance idly around and try to further surmise exactly where the cameras were. They had to be less likely to be near the street, where there was far more chance of a passerby accidentally stumbling on them. This plan probably wouldn't get them fully out of sight of their lenses, but they could stand at the front right corner for at least a few minutes and talk quietly without raising suspicion, and hopefully they'd be far away enough for their words to not be picked up.

She came back with the papers, and led Foggy over to where the border between the properties was largely delineated by fences, "but it doesn't quite go all the way; we didn't want to the fence to be that long, and with the cost being measured per-"

Softly, just loud enough to cut off her babbling, Foggy said, "Your husband's alive."

"WHAT?" And she nearly ruined it with her reaction; she would've yelled more had Foggy not grabbed her shoulder and hastily shushed her.

"Also," she hissed, "he's got cameras set up all around here, so we need to keep our voices down. And my name's not Annabelle Sharpe, it's Foggy Nelson; I had to give a fake name because he might've recognized my real one. My husband's in contact with him, and they both think it's safer for you and your children to not know about any of this, but..."

"Oh, bullshit!" Mrs. Lieberman slapped her away, and then turned and started storming back towards the house.

There was no way to avoid suspicion now, so Foggy hastily followed her with a, "Look, I know it sounds absurd..."

"It would if it were anyone else," Mrs. Lieberman replied, without breaking pace, "but as it happens I can find out for myself if you're telling the truth quickly enough."

She was walking too fast for Foggy to quite catch up. Technically, she ended up slamming the front door in her face, though that was simply because she wasn't paying attention to Foggy being right behind her. Foggy pulled it back open to no protest. Mrs. Lieberman was too busy striding into her kitchen, saying, "If he's really set up the cameras there's no way one won't be in..." She flung the door to the furthest cabinet open, and Foggy saw her remove a pack of flour and some smaller packets, before breathlessly exclaiming, "Well!"

Foggy joined her in front of the now exposed camera. It was small and far back enough that only a tiny red light made it easy to spot. She glanced at the cabinet doors, and spotted the tiny hole in one of them; she might not have if she hadn't been looking for it.

"You do realize," she said, "I was hoping to tell you this without him finding out."

"Well, fuck that," Mrs. Lieberman retorted, still staring straight in the camera. "And fuck you, David! Now unless you want me to tear this city apart and probably get myself arrested for disturbing the peace, you are either going to come right here or you are going to contact me right now and tell me where the hell you are!"

Chapter Text

It was late in the evening when Foggy headed out to Queens for the second time that day. Sarah, as she'd told Foggy to call her, was waiting outside. "I managed to get my father to look after the kids," she said, "but they're all three of them wondering what's going on. My son got aggressive about it." She sighed at that. "I don't know what we're going to tell them."

"We'll figure it out," said Foggy. "Situations like this, you always have to figure out things like that as you go along. You can try preparing things beforehand, but whatever you're planning, it won't work out. Trust me."

She, for instance, didn't yet know exactly what she was going to say to Matt when he met them in Manhattan to lead them to where David Lieberman was hiding. They had only communicated by email since her first visit to Queens that morning. She was determined not to apologize, because she wasn't sorry. But she was aware that just telling him why she'd done it would probably lead to the kind of argument they did not want to have in front of a stranger.

Maybe Matt himself realized, that, though. When Foggy and Sarah emerged onto the street to find him waiting there, as soon as Foggy had called out his name he was stepping forward and offering his hand, saying, "Good evening, Mrs. Lieberman. My name is Matt Murdock. I'm Ms. Nelson's husband. Your husband is staying near the river. This way." Then he just turned and walked off, making a show of using the cane, but not taking Foggy's arm. Or getting anywhere near her, even though she'd worn shoes more than loud enough to avert any suspicions.

Sarah threw Foggy a concerned look at this. Foggy looked away, just saying, "Come on, let's get this over with."

They kept close to him as they reached the river, walking through the dark corners of New York that they'd both avoided before now, even as those they loved had plunged into them. It wasn't a cold night, but Sarah was shivering anyway, and at least looked distracted enough she might have not noticed the ease with which Matt made his way, even though there wasn't much to mark the route for a blind man. Not much for even a seeing one, honestly. The buildings all looked the same in the dark, at least until they saw the one with a light in its entrance.

David Lieberman was waiting for them there. He was a fairly tall man with dirty blonde hair and beard, extremely disheveled at the moment, and his clothes were in worse shape. The minute his wife laid eyes on him, she strode up to him and shoved him into the door. Which wasn't very stable; it gave way behind him and sent him stumbling further back. Sarah didn't even seem to notice. She just moved forward into the broken doorframe and shoved him again, and again.

Foggy couldn't make out all of her words. There was "What did you do?" and "We saw you die!" (that one was loud and she yelled it multiple times) and something about months.

As Matt moved forward to intervene, Foggy quietly said, "I think you should let her have it out with him, Matt. In fact, I think we should move out of earshot. Or at least far enough away. Unless you think there's anyone dangerous around."

"We're the only people in the immediate area," said Matt. "Back to the river and I won't even catch their voices without concentrating." They didn't have to worry about being overheard by the Liebermans; they could hear enough from inside the building to know that.

They walked back to the river in silence. Foggy could feel the tension rising, but she also felt their surroundings, despite Matt's belief they were safe for the moment. She might refrain from yelling at him just for that, lucky him.

When they got there, and Foggy was staring out at water barely visibly in the darkness, Matt spoke first, his voice very cool as he asked, "You are aware you may have just gotten all four of them killed?"

A harsh cut, but one Foggy had anticipated. "I admit I didn't anticipate her taking matters into her own hands like that. I made it pretty clear I wasn't planning for anyone to do anything in response to my telling her."

"I think her husband did. I think he had a pretty damn good reason for keeping her in the dark, that being he knew her and he knew she might react like this."

Probably neither of them anticipated the nerve that one touched. "So you're just assuming men like you two know what's best for your wives? I thought I told you what I thought of that nonsense back in college!" It was very hard not to yell. "We wives are not just pets to be protected from our own foolish impulses."

Matt looked a little hangdog and like he wanted to protest that whole thing, but a moment later he instead said, "But you're not like Mrs. Lieberman. You're not incapable of taking care of yourself, and you actually have some idea of what you're up against, and anyway, the people who would go after you can't so long as they don't know I'm Daredevil, so we've never quite been in their current situation."

"And if we were?" Foggy asked, because that was an important question, and this might be her best chance to get it answered.

Matt fell silent. After half a minute or so, Foggy gave up on an immediate answer, and continued, "While you're chewing on that, let me also point out that if David had slipped up-and do remember he had no experience with anything even remotely like this-Sarah would've had no way to know they were coming for her or their children."

"I'm pretty sure he could've called her very fast, if it came to that. The kids, too, even if they'd been at school or otherwise out of the house. I couldn't tell everything about the set-up he's got in there-and I don't think anyone who wasn't an IT professional could've either-but I know enough about his activities that it would shock me if he couldn't."

Maybe that was true. But Foggy still went on, "She's told me a bit more about what the past months have been like for her, too. She's been very alone, you know. Most of the friends she and her husband had snubbed her after he was condemned as a traitor. And the kids have suffered similar in school, and the son, Zach, has basically become a problem kid in response. And she truly was devastated to lose him. I don't usually believe traditional claptrap about women and men, but I am becoming convinced that a woman absolutely can get herself so invested in her husband that losing him can break her."

"Foggy," Matt's stricken response to this wasn't a surprise. She was a little more caught off guard by just how hard seeing him that way still got to her. It took her time to pull her thoughts or feelings together enough to say anything more.

Too much time. First, Matt said, "Everything he did in there was for them, you know. What he did to get them in this predicament might not have been, but he's no noble crusader wanting to dedicate even half of his life to this. His main goal now is finding a way home he can live with."

There was a romanticism to that, Foggy acknowledged. But if there was one thing she had learned over the past year and a half, it was that romance didn't really get you anything in the end, not even emotional comfort.

But the pause in the argument had made her realize she was tired, and didn't want to get off onto that tangent with Matt. She seemed to get tired more easily than she had even a year ago.

She found herself asking, "So, what are we doing anyway? Do we want to get the Avengers involved in this?"

"Perhaps," said Matt. "They could even conceivably get the entire Lieberman family out of the country if they're willing to go, and even if we shouldn't involve Stark right now, they could get the incriminating documents leaked probably within days. And that's if they even bother trying to not be connected to it. It would probably be a stronger case if they weren't, but I'm not sure Rogers has ever cared about such things."

"Either way, that probably would solve the current dilemma, if Lieberman didn't know anything the world hadn't heard about, too, and his getting killed again would only make them look worse." As Foggy said this, she observed her husband's reaction. She would've liked him to be a lot more pleased by this.

He only said, "We don't know how much he knows, not really, especially when he's had half a year to do nothing but hack into all the government's systems. It would be safer for him and his family if we handled this more quietly. Romanov could probably think of some way to do it."

"I can guess the real reason you don't want to go public, you know," Foggy snapped, because she already had. "You just don't want to feel responsible when Frank finds out and of course he's probably going to want to kill everyone involved, and ultimately, he's only likely to hold back for the sake of our cases for so long. But I don't know if he'd even succeed, Matt. He's never gone after anyone truly powerful."

"That's not my only reason," Matt sighed, which probably was true enough. "But I think he probably would succeed, at least for one of them. Possibly get himself killed in the process, which of course he doesn't care about, but Karen would."

"And she wouldn't be the only one, would she?" Foggy asked, because Karen was the one more obviously emotionally entangled with Frank, but she had already thought Matt was, too, in a weird way. Though really, if she was being extremely honest, she wasn't indifferent to his fate herself.

Matt might have even looked embarrassed for a second. Then he said, "Either way, we still need to get the Liebermans out. Do you think they'll refuse to be evacuated?"

"I hope not," said Foggy. "Though maybe we'd better go check in on them, make sure Sarah hasn't stormed off alone in the dark part of town in the middle of the night."

She hadn't; when Matt and Foggy returned to the building, they found both Liebermans standing together in front of the entrance. "So," Foggy asked them, "do you two have any idea what you want to do now?"

"Only that we want to be fully reunited as a family," said Sarah, "in any way that's relatively safe for us."

"So you would be willing to leave the country?" Matt asked.

The two of them looked at each other. "Is the situation really that hopeless?" David Lieberman asked.

Foggy saw Matt consider it, as she did the same. "Anything we attempt to do that's legal will inevitably take time," she said, "and we'd definitely have to hide you somewhere to keep you from getting killed, I'm afraid."

"And probably you and your children as well," said Matt, "because as soon as the people responsible for this realize you're still working against them, well, if they can't get to you, they'll get to anyone you care about that they can reach. In fact, do you two have anyone else who might need protecting?"

"My father," said Sarah. Looking at her husband, she added, "Maybe your sister, too? Even if I'm not sure anyone's heard from her since the sit shiva. I sure haven't."

"It might not have to be forever, though," Foggy offered. "You might be able to come back when everything is resolved."

"I think we both know enough to know that's going to take a long time," said David. "Thanks for offering the hope of us returning eventually, though."

"Very well, then," said Matt. "There are people who can help you, and I expect to be in contact with them next week. Until then, Mrs. Lieberman, we have to decide where you and your children will stay. We have other friends who can take you in, or can even watch over them if you choose to stay in your own house, though I would advise against that."

"We'll have to go back there, though," said Sarah. "The kids and my father are there." Foggy heard the terror when it first came into her voice, when it at last hit her just how much danger her entire family was now in.

"I've seen no signs of them paying any more attention to the three of you at the moment," said David. "Even if we did anything today that might change that, surely there'll be at least a few hours' lag."

"Probably," Matt agreed. "Foggy and I should both take you home. I'll call one of my friends to try to meet us there."

The friend he had in mind turned out to be Danny Rand. That made sense; Luke Cage was far too high profile to work for this, and Jessica Jones might refuse to help. Foggy was happy to leave Matt to deal with him and keep nearer to Sarah.

She spent a few minutes debating with herself whether to ask it, but when they were almost out of the deserted area, she did: "Should I not have told you?"

"Absolutely you should have," said Sarah. "I mean, I suppose you really should ask me that in a few more days...but I think my answer will be the same. Whatever happens to the four of us now...at least provided we all survive it, we'll probably all four be better off."

"Wow," said Foggy, because while Sarah had told her about her various woes, she hadn't realized it was *that* bad.

Matt finished his phone call with the news that Danny hoped to reach Queens in one or two hours. "Maybe longer, if what he's dealing with right now takes more time than he's expecting."

They couldn't talk as much on the train, but when they emerged into the Liebermans' neighborhood, Matt said, "I think you'll like Danny. He'd a good guy, very nice."

She, Foggy thought, probably would. On the other hand, she wasn't looking forward to how her son was likely to deal with him.

Very early the next morning

After it was decided they should stagger their departures from the Liebermans' house, Foggy left first. Not caring to travel too far alone in the dark, she called a cab to pick up her from a few blocks away, arriving back in Hell's Kitchen as the sun was just starting to peek out from between the buildings.

She headed up the stairs, trying to figure out, in her exhausted state, exactly how late to work she could get away with being that day. When she took as glance at her email as she walked into the apartment, she did so with the thought that hopefully there wouldn't be anything important.

Instead, she found herself reading an email from Jessica, asking her to call as soon as she could, regardless of the late/early hour. Foggy spent a good two minutes trying to mentally stretch the definition of the word "could," before sighing and calling.

The third ring had come and gone, and Foggy was a split second from sighing in relief and disconnecting, when she heard Jessica's, "Oh, now you're answering, Ms. Nelson?"

"I only saw your email now. It's been a very busy night. What have you got?"

"Some real dirt on our friend Carson Wolf. Turns out along with everything else, he's been dealing in heroin. Not only that, he's been smuggling it out of Afghanistan with the bodies of military personnel killed in action. I haven't found how he's been selling it yet, or what he's then doing with the money, since it doesn't look like he's been keeping most of it-which in itself probably means more dirt, and I can think of one possibility."

Foggy, too, had a pretty good idea of just what that money had been spent on, and a guess on who'd sold the heroin as well. Her first impulse was to tell Jessica that, but not only was it way too dangerous to do that over the phone, but Matt had mentioned he'd left out Lieberman's still being alive in what he told her, and she thought perhaps it would be better if they moved him and his family to safety first.

Still, if the government had tried to murder at least two people who had both only known part of what was going on, she couldn't keep silent completely. "Listen," she said, after thinking over her words for a few moments. "I'd like you to actually sit on this information for possibly a few days, and just leave everything be; suspend the investigation. I hope I'll be able to explain why eventually, but I don't think I can yet."

"Really?" Jessica did not sound at all impressed. "If Wolf or any of his friends determines for sure that they've been snooped on-and they are almost certainly prepared for that possibility already-it's going to get way harder to find out anything else."

"I trust you to handle all that," said Foggy. "I'll get back to you later, I promise."

"Have it you way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't. Good..." she glanced at the clock, and just sighed, "Goodbye, then."

There was nothing else important in her emails. Foggy stayed awake just long enough to send a few of her own, notifying everyone she would probably be in late that day. Then she crawled between the sheets with her blouse still on and was asleep within seconds.

She didn't think it was long after that when she was woken by a second body collapsing onto the bed. She might have made some vague, bleary noises in response to this, before she felt a familiar hand stroke her head, and her husband's voice murmur, "Go back to sleep, Foggy."

When she woke again, late in the morning, she found Matt asleep on top of the bed, still in most of his clothes, though he had at least taken his shoes off. She pulled his socks off as well; the smell was already going to linger on his feet and pester him for probably a day or so as it was.

He stirred slightly when Foggy was in the shower; she came out to find he'd spread himself out, his head moved to where hers had been, before falling back asleep. He'd probably been drawn to her scent. Even now, she couldn't help but smile.

It was late enough she was definitely taking a cab to the office. For most of the walk down the stairs, she contemplated exactly what she was going to tell Karen and when, but, she then realized, there were probably only reasons not to tell her at the moment. She could cite them to her friend if she ever had to defend herself to her over it. And she absolutely, positively, should not feel like she was letting her down, not telling her.

She would, on the other hand, have to tell Marci and Jennifer everything that both Jessica and David had found out about Wolf. Although she couldn't tell Jennifer until she came back to New York again, and Foggy wasn't even sure when she was going to do so. Hell, even when she did, it might be Matt who ended up talking with her.

Marci, on the other hand, she could tell today. And then she would have to tell her, too, to sit on it without explaining why. She wasn't looking forward to that. Especially since she would also want to leave Frank's still being alive out of it, too, and that might be a little tricky.

It filled her with enough dread that when her phone rang just after she got into the cab, she nearly jumped. But it wasn't Marci, or Karen. It was Cheryl. Foggy would probably have to tell her a few things, too, but at the moment she had no idea how much.

When she answered the phone, Cheryl said to her, "Hey, Foggy, I think you picked the wrong morning to sleep in. Stark announced something like twenty minutes ago he's holding a press conference, in which, the announcement says, 'he will address general recent unfortunate events related to the Avengers,' although he also said he's going to talk about Colonel Rhodes' condition."

Rhodes still hadn't been seen publicly since he'd been shot down during the fight in Germany. All else aside, she was genuinely very curious to see how he was doing. The way things were going, it might just prove relevant to their activities.

She wanted to believe the rest at least wouldn't prove too bad for them. Were he a sensible person, he might have realized by now he couldn't just trust Ross's latest claims that they'd be doing everything legally and properly from there in. But of course, it was well known he was not, and Foggy did not quite trust him to not hide behind the government's current front.

"So how long do I have to get there?" Foggy asked, trying to gauge the current traffic. She was late enough the worst of it might have passed, at least.

"Officially it starts in about half an hour. You can always hope he'll be late."

Foggy wasn't going to rely on that. She went through the news websites after ending the call. Several had already started up their liveblogs, none of which yet had much to tell. There were also a lot of reports of people claiming they'd spotted Rogers or another one of his rogue Avengers near where they lived, none of which Foggy believed, but too many newly published news articles were reiterating them all.

Perhaps a little more interesting were a couple of them also listing a couple of reports of Hank Pym possibly being spotted in a bus station in Oakland. Ross and the government's other representatives hadn't ever mentioned their names when talking to the press. Even Lang's indictment hadn't mentioned them too much, and none of the other indictments had. Presumably they'd been worried about the populace's reaction to noticing that someone who had reportedly denounced the Avengers was getting charged just because they'd used his technology. That was a dangerous step to take, after all.

If the mainstream media was, at last, noticing the existence of these two people, that was probably good for their cause. Even if none of them were yet asking if they should've been charged, instead treating them as more normal fugitives from actual justice who needed to be found.

They were maybe about ten minutes away from the office, with the press conference scheduled to start in five, when she got the text from Karen. I'd say sorry in advance, but... She actually didn't groan. She was too resigned for that.