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“At least I’m not an actress,” Jane would always tell her parents, and they agreed that, yes, it could be worse. At least with set design, they would say, there’s something to show for all that work.
Jane had learned to just roll with it, ignoring the digs that she should have been a lawyer or a doctor, but when the opportunity came to leave Providence and move to New York, she took it. She managed the occasional job in her field and was grateful to be able to see the amazing work other people were doing on their sets, but when the barista job came up in Hell’s Kitchen she took it. She loved coffee, she couldn’t beat the people-watching, and, well, she needed a steady income.
It took a little while before she figured out who the regulars were, and her favorites were the lawyers. One of them would come most mornings to pick up three coffees, and they were polite and friendly. Usually, they’d leave a tip.
Jane had, of course, picked up their names from their orders.
Karen (vanilla latte) was often in a hurry, but still usually managed a smile and a please, and Jane liked looking at her hair. Her own hair was short, more for practicality than for style, and even if it had been long her dishwater brown would be no match for Karen’s strawberry blonde.
The first time Foggy (flat white) had given his name, Jane had done a double-take. “Foggy?” she’d repeated.
“Hey, it beats Cumulofracto,” Foggy had replied with a smile that Jane had liked, and Jane had laughed and agreed.
Matt (Americano) had a nice smile, too. It had taken Jane a minute to realize that he was blind, as he seemed really confident in how he moved; he’d even gotten out of the way of another barista arriving late to work, but maybe he’d heard her coming.
What Jane liked better was when they had their coffee at the shop. It was more likely to happen in the afternoon, and Karen didn’t seem to come as often then; it was usually just Matt and Foggy.
It wasn’t because they were lawyers that Jane liked to watch Matt and Foggy - or that wasn’t the only reason. Sure, there was that part of herself that let her parents get to her, made her think that maybe she should have tried to get into law school. But it wasn’t like Matt and Foggy were rolling in money, at least not if Matt’s suits were any indication, and money was the main reason her parents had wanted her to study something else. Well, that and the prestige, which Matt and Foggy didn’t seem to have much of either.
But, the lawyer thing aside, the reason Jane liked watching Matt and Foggy was how they acted toward each other. She wasn’t sure if they were good friends or a couple; the way Foggy sometimes looked at Matt made her think the latter. Foggy would get a table and Matt would come place the order, and Matt always turned right toward Foggy when he got their drinks, even if he wasn’t sitting at their usual table. It was cute.
One day, Matt went right to a table and Foggy was the one to come place the order. Jane peered over at Matt and saw the way he had an arm pressed against his side, the way he grimaced when he sat. “Hey, is he okay?” she blurted when Foggy got to the head of the line, despite the fact that commenting on customers’ appearances was generally frowned upon by her manager.
“What?” Foggy asked, which made Jane wonder if he’d just missed the way his friend or whatever looked like he was in pain. “Oh,” Foggy said then. “Matty? Yeah, he’s fine. Thanks.” And he stuffed maybe a little more than usual in the tip jar, which was great but didn’t do a whole lot to make Jane feel better.
She liked the lawyers and definitely didn’t want them to be hurt. Fortunately, she had something she’d been planning, and thank goodness she was ready to try it. Maybe it would be a nice pick-me-up.
Last night, she’d looked up the information she needed on the internet, and that morning she’d brought in some puffy paint and carefully applied it to a cup in the size Matt usually ordered. She’d tucked the cup somewhere out of the way and was relieved to find that the paint had dried and given exactly the effect she’d hoped. Grinning, she ran her fingers lightly over the bumps, then she made the drinks and took them out to the lawyers.
When she got closer, Jane noticed that the knuckles of Matt’s right hand were scraped and bruised, and she remembered how her brother’s hands had looked like that when he’d been fighting.
Had Matt been fighting? She definitely didn’t comment on that, though, but just exchanged pleasantries and dropped off the drinks.
Jane tried not to be obvious about keeping an eye on Matt; even if he’d never notice, Foggy might. Fortunately, she was watching when his fingers brushed the raised bumps on his cup. She saw how he smiled and called Foggy’s attention to it, then how Foggy laughed and shook his head after he touched the bumps for himself. Then Foggy craned his neck to look back at the counter, and Jane ducked out of sight, not wanting to be caught watching.
She’d written his name in Braille. It wasn’t a big deal. Jane just thought that everybody else got to have their names on their cups; Matt should, too, though she wasn’t going to be able to do it every day. Still, she didn’t want a fuss, so she hurried to the back when Foggy got to his feet.
By the time she came back out, they were gone.
The next week, Jane really wasn’t sure how circumstances had aligned such that she was alone in the shop with Matt just before everything went down. Sure, Jeff was late - again - and Tariq was in the back office doing some ordering, but how likely was it, really, for there to be no other customers, even that late in the day? Still, Matt came in just as Marie (cappuccino) and Joey (chai latte) were leaving, and nobody else was there.
Matt came up to the counter and ordered a mint tea, which gave Jane a moment’s pause; she’d been expecting an americano. “Not staying up working tonight?” she asked as she set the tea to brewing.
“What?” Why would that make his eyebrows go up like that? “Uh, no. Just finished up, going home.”
“Long day?”
Matt made a sound that tried to be a laugh. “Yeah. Court was… it was long.”
Jane had been wondering, and he looked a little tired, so she asked, “Do you like being a lawyer?”
“Yeah.” He paused. “Well, some days it’s easier to like the job than others. But the thing about the law is -” He smiled, then, still tired but less grim. “Well, I love it.”
“It’s good if you love what you do.” Jane made a face, not that Matt could see it. Talk about stating the obvious.
But Matt just smiled. “It really is. Hey, did -” He stopped talking. Later, Jane would remember that his head turned toward the door a few seconds before it opened. The guy who came in wasn’t a regular, and he looked tense, stressed out.
Matt stayed in his spot by the register, but the guy didn’t try to push past him. He waited, looking for something, maybe Matt’s drink.
Jane put on her Customer Service Smile. “Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakenings. What can I get for you?”
“Uh. Can I get a coffee? Black. Just regular coffee, none of that fancy shit.”
Jane thought that maybe this guy could use some herbal tea, too, but she didn’t say that, just nodded and replied, “Two fifty.”
The guy fumbled in a pocket and Matt said, “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it.”
The guy frowned a little as Matt paid, but nodded. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, man.”
Jane got the coffee, and by then Matt’s tea had finished steeping, so she brought his drink over as well. The guy stepped up to get his coffee, though Matt stayed in between him and Jane.
The guy hesitated, and Jane said, “Cream and sugar’s on the counter over there.”
He didn’t move.
Matt set his tea down and shifted around so that he was turned toward the guy, though it seemed like he spoke to Jane as he asked, “Closing time soon, right?”
No, it wasn’t, but clearly Jane was missing something; she went with, “Uh, yeah. Soon.”
Matt took a step toward the guy, who stood there with his coffee, not really looking at anything. “Let’s go, so she can start cleaning up, okay?”
The guy focused on Matt, then, with frightening intensity. “I said I wanted my coffee black. I don’t need to know where the fucking cream and sugar are. You didn’t listen! You obviously just want to get rid of me.”
Jane startled, and the guy turned toward her. Sure, everything he said was true; he’d made her uneasy from the moment he’d come in the store.
“Hey, buddy, look at me,” Matt insisted. “Leave her alone.”
How did he know the guy was turned toward me? Jane wondered, but the guy’s attention focused on Matt and he - shit - he pulled a gun out of his coat.
“Easy, sir,” Jane began, edging toward the silent alarm button under the counter; just that small movement was enough to attract the guy’s attention, and he turned the gun on her.
“Whatever you were going to do, don’t do it!”
Instinctively, Jane lifted her hands. “I won’t, see?”
The guy’s hand was shaking enough that the gun wobbled, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. He stepped past Matt, waving the gun at Jane. “Open the register.”
Jane started to do exactly what she’d been told to do in that situation and opened the register. People, her boss said, were worth more than whatever a thief could take.
Matt picked up a napkin dispenser from the table behind him - wait, how had he known where it was to just grab it like that? - and threw it across the room; it crashed through a display of little pies (made with locally sourced ingredients, two for five dollars) and then slammed into the wall.
The guy turned toward the noise and Matt threw his cane away and then did some twisty-flip-kick thing that got the guy right in the face. He seriously didn’t know what hit him, but Matt went down with him. Matt did something - Jane was too busy going for the silent alarm button to watch too closely - and the guy yelled, the gun skidding across the floor. Matt didn’t stop there, though, but hit the guy a couple of times before getting to his feet.
The guy stayed down.
“Holy shit,” Jane whispered, and Matt looked over like he’d forgotten she was there. His glasses had fallen off sometime during the - could Jane even call it a fight? She was surprised by how different he looked without them, but, hey, it worked for Superman. She cleared her throat and leaned against the counter, suddenly shaky. “Um. I pushed the alarm. The cops will be here… well, soon in theory, but who knows.”
Matt nodded. “Look, don’t tell -” He grimaced, looking like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. He nudged his glasses with one foot and then scooped down to pick them up.
“I won’t tell, but there’s a security camera. It sort of works…”
“I think the wiring is going. It might not have caught anything.”
Jane wondered how the hell he knew that - maybe she should have gone to law school - but decided not to ask. “If you don’t want anybody to know, you’d better leave.”
Matt put on his glasses and went to grab his cane, just walked right up to it. “What will you tell the cops?”
Jane leaned over the counter to look at the guy. His nose was bleeding and he still looked pretty groggy. “Hey, it’s Hell’s Kitchen, right? I’ll just say Daredevil saved me.”
That made Matt smile, but he cautioned, “Ordinarily I would suggest that you cooperate with the police…”
Jane shrugged but didn’t say anything. She’d avoid the question if she could, but she wasn’t about to throw Matt under the bus, even though she didn’t entirely understand why he wouldn’t want anybody to know. She was about to ask when she heard the door open in the back and shooed Matt out. “Tariq is coming.”
Matt nodded and turned to leave. He paused at the door. “You’re okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks, by the way. For, well.”
“You’re welcome.”
The door closed behind him just a moment before Tariq stepped out. “Hey, were you throwing chairs out here? What’s the register doing open… holy shit.”
“Yeah, that sums it up.”
And then Jeff finally showed up, and the cops came not too long after that, and it wasn’t until an hour later that Jane realized that Matt had left his tea right there on the counter.
The next day, none of the lawyers stopped by, but Jane got called out of her dinner break to come and talk to a cop. This one was in a suit; he showed her his badge and introduced himself: “Detective Brett Mahoney.” He shook his head and added, “They call me in when Daredevil is involved.”
“So you’re a… Daredevil expert?” Oh, shit. What if he figured out that Daredevil hadn’t been involved at all, that she’d lied to the cops? Jane didn’t want Matt to get in trouble; if she got busted or something instead, well, at least she knew some lawyers.
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve met him a few times.” He made a sound like a cut-off sigh, looking kind of tired.
“Oh, wow, you’ve met Daredevil? What’s he like?” Detective Mahoney looked up from his notepad and Jane tried not to wince. Whoops. “Everything… happened so quickly last night. I barely saw anything. I was just glad the guy was stopped.”
“And we’re all glad you’re okay.” Detective Mahoney turned back to his notebook, his voice casual as he asked, “How did Daredevil happen to be here, again?”
Was it hot in there? Jane felt like she must be sweating, or that her face was red, or something. “Maybe he likes coffee. Like I said, it all happened really fast.”
Detective Mahoney’s eyes lifted from the notebook once more and he looked at her for a long moment. Jane tried not to squirm or fidget, and met his gaze. Liars didn’t look people in the eye, right? And technically she hadn’t lied. Not to Detective Mahoney, at least. One of the cops from the night before had asked, kind of laughing, if Daredevil went to coffee shops now, and Jane had gone with it.
Finally, Detective Mahoney nodded and Jane felt like she’d won a prize or something. “Okay. I just wanted to see if you remembered anything else.”
Now, Jane was definitely not an actor, but she had been around enough of them to be able to pull off a reasonably effective “clueless and innocent” look. “No, I really don’t. I’m sorry. You do believe me, though, right? The guy had a gun and everything.”
Detective Mahoney nodded and smiled a little, his manner reassuring. “Nobody’s doubting you, no. And our officers recovered the gun last night. It wasn’t registered to Mr. Williams.”
“That’s his name? Is he okay? He, um, took some hits.” Jane winced a little, remembering Matt hitting the guy. How had a blind guy learned to fight like that? Not that blind people couldn’t fight, of course, but Matt had been really intense about it. Jane was grateful, of course, just kind of confused.
“Yeah. He’s a little banged up, but he’ll be okay. He’s still in the hospital, but under guard; you don’t have to worry.”
“Oh. Well, good. I mean, not that he’s in the hospital, just the whole not worrying part. Thanks. Did he, uh, say anything about Daredevil?” It had occurred to her last night, as she’d tried to sleep, that the guy might say something about Matt.
But Detective Mahoney shook his head. “His jaw’s wired shut. He’s not going to be saying anything for a while.”
Matt had hit the guy so hard that he’d had to have his jaw wired shut? Or maybe it had been that twist kick. Either way, holy shit. “Wow. Uh, go Daredevil, I guess.” Before Detective Mahoney could ask any more questions, she said, “Was there anything else? It’s just that I’m on my dinner break, and I’m pretty sure my quesadilla is already cold.”
Detective Mahoney nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. Here - take my card if you think about anything else you remembered.”
Jane nodded and took the card and started to leave, then turned back to say, “He did the right thing when he saved me. You’re not trying to get him in trouble, are you?”
Detective Mahoney looked even more tired but shook his head. “It’s a pretty clear case of self-defense, even though he went a little overboard in his response. But he tends to do that, so…” The detective shrugged. “Have a good day.”
Jane went back to her quesadilla and ate it even though it was cold because reheating it in the microwave would be worse.
Matt wouldn’t have gotten in trouble for helping her, and as a lawyer wouldn’t he know that? Maybe he’d wanted to keep everything quiet because he didn’t want people to know he could fight like that - and how had he been able to fight like that? Jane had heard about other senses compensating and all that, but this seemed a little extreme.
Before she could come up with an explanation that made sense to her, Jane realized that her break was over. Sighing, she stuffed the last of her quesadilla in her mouth and went back to work.
Fortunately, that evening went more quietly than the previous one. The other people working made sure that Jane wasn’t left alone out front, even though she had assured them that the guy - Mr. Williams - was in the hospital.
“Can’t count on Daredevil to show up every day,” Andi said. “Guy was so fast, he didn’t even show up on the camera.”
“Well, Daredevil,” Jane replied, shrugging. “And you know the camera only kind of works.”
“Okay, true.” Andi leaned in to whisper, “Was he cute?”
Jane tried not to freeze too obviously. “Daredevil wears a mask…” There, that was the absolute truth.
“Yeah, but those suits, they cling to all the right places.” Andi’s eyebrows lifted suggestively, making Jane laugh.
“Sorry,” Jane replied, shaking her head. “The guy with the gun kind of took all my attention.”
“Okay, yeah, I can see that. Glad Daredevil was here, that you’re okay. And, hey, next time check out his butt!”
“Next time? I’ll pass on a next time, thanks.”
Andi nodded, her expression sympathetic; both of them looked up as the door opened, and then Andi said, “Speaking of nice butts, there’s your lawyer.”
“He’s not my lawyer,” Jane protested, though she did go over to the register as Matt approached. “Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakenings, what can I get for you?”
“Large Americano, please,” Matt replied. “To go.” Lowering his voice, he asked, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Let me get your drink, uh…”
Matt was familiar enough with the place to move over to the waiting area, and soon enough Jane joined him with his coffee. “Here you go, just in front of your hand.” He reached for it with a murmur of thanks, and Jane saw the scrapes on his knuckles. “A detective came by not too long ago. He’s kind of a Daredevil expert, I guess. He seemed a little suspicious, but he didn’t come out and say anything.”
“Who was it?” Matt asked, though he didn’t seem surprised.
“Mahoney.”
“Yeah, I know him. I think it’ll be okay. I can talk to him if you like.”
Jane couldn’t help but look at Matt’s knuckles again. What would Detective Mahoney think of them? He’d definitely notice, and she didn’t want Matt to get in trouble. She hesitated, then said, “No. It’ll be okay.” She hesitated, then asked, her voice low, “Last night, how did you do that?”
“I, uh, had a teacher when I was a kid. He helped me figure it out.”
Well, that wasn’t much of an answer. Jane didn’t push, though. There was a line, and she had to go help Andi. “Okay. Uh, have a good day.”
“Hey, what’s your name?”
That was when it hit her. All this time she’d been watching the lawyers, even after he’d saved her, Matt had no idea who she was. She was just one of the people who got him coffee. He probably had no idea that she was the one who had done the cup with the paint. Not that she’d done it for attention, and he’d saved her life which more than made things even, but an awareness that she even existed would have been nice. “Jane,” she said finally, realizing he was still waiting, now with a little crease between his brows. “I’ve got to go.”
When she reached the register and looked over, Matt was still standing there, head tipped slightly to one side. What was he doing? The customer in front of her cleared his throat and Jane turned her attention to him. “Sorry. Welcome to Brewed Awakenings. What can I get for you?”
By the time she’d finished with the customer, Matt had left. She had no idea that was the last time she’d see him.
Matt wasn’t sure what to do. The coffee shop was convenient and not too expensive for the location; the people were nice. But that barista - Jane? Jane - clearly suspected something. And why wouldn’t she? After all, a blind lawyer kicking somebody’s ass would rouse anybody’s suspicions.
But what else could he have done? Let Jane get shot? Of course not. Matt had known the guy meant trouble as soon as he’d heard his heartbeat. He’d tried to deflect the situation, but obviously that hadn’t worked.
Maybe if he stayed away, Jane would lose interest. Foggy and Karen would be annoyed about having to find a new place for coffee, but they’d understand, and it wasn’t like Hell’s Kitchen was lacking places to buy coffee. He’d try a new place and maybe this time not get involved in a robbery.
Matt slowed his steps as he approached his apartment. He knew all his neighbors’ heartbeats; while the unfamiliar one he heard could just be a visitor, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Whoever it was, and their heartbeat was nigglingly familiar, stood just outside Matt’s door. He heard an exhalation of breath and realized who it was just as Brett spoke.
“Murdock, you got a minute?”
He considered saying, What seems to be the problem, officer? but figured Brett has already heard that one before and so went with, “Yeah, sure. Beer?”
Brett moved, maybe looking at a watch, as he said, “Think I got off duty fifteen minutes ago, so yeah. Here, if you don’t mind.” His smirk was audible as he added, “I’m assuming you’ve got beer in there.”
“Correct assumption.” Matt moved past Brett and rested his cane against the wall as he unlocked the door, then held it open for Brett before taking up the cane, folding it up, and setting it on the table by the door. “Have a seat,” he added as he loosened his tie. “Everything okay?”
He had a brief moment of worry that something had happened to Foggy, but Brett’s heartbeat was too even and regular for that. His couch creaked as Brett sat, and Matt went to the fridge for those beers.
“Yeah,” Brett said as he took his beer. “Thanks. Just had an interesting case, thought you might be able to provide some insight.”
“Always glad to help the fine, upstanding members of the NYPD.” Matt even managed to sound genuine, but he still heard Brett’s soft sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused.
Brett opened the beer and, from the sound of it, took a drink before he answered. “There was an attempted robbery at Brewed Awakenings, that coffee shop down the block from your office.”
Of course, that was why Brett wanted to talk. Matt nodded. “Everybody okay?”
“The one barista involved is fine. The robber - sorry, alleged robber - is in the hospital with his jaw wired shut.”
Matt wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that he hadn’t meant to hit the guy that hard. He had. He’d used exactly the amount of force he’d intended.
Okay, he’d been angry that this guy had come into the coffee shop, a place Matt considered his, and threatened one of the people who worked there. And the fact that the guy couldn’t talk, that was just convenient. But he would heal eventually. Maybe Matt would have to pay him a visit, encourage him to keep his mouth shut.
Realizing that Brett was likely waiting for some sort of response, Matt asked, “Are you here because he needs representation? I don’t know that we’re that hard up.” He opened his beer and took a drink, wishing it was something stronger.
“See, that’s not the question I was expecting,” Brett replied. “I would have thought you would wonder how our would-be robber ended up with a fractured jaw.”
Matt grinned despite his unease. “Does the barista know Krav Maga or something?”
“Ha, no. At least, not that I’m aware. But maybe you didn’t ask because you already knew what happened.” Matt heard the clink as Brett put his beer on the table. “I took a look at the security footage, such as it was, and you were there. It was flickering in and out, but there was a quick glimpse as you paid for your drink. The uni who looked at it first didn’t recognize you, but I did.”
Shit. Matt put down his beer, too. “Yeah, I go there a lot. But I didn’t see anything if that’s what you’re asking.” He tried another grin: charming, oblivious blind guy. Would it work?
“And I can’t help but notice that your knuckles are busted up, like you hit something. Or somebody.”
Apparently not. Matt kept up his pleasant expression. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
The silence hung there for a moment, then Brett replied, “I think you know exactly what I’m saying, Murdock. I’m not sure how, but I think you took out that guy last night. You were there right before everything went down.”
“Yeah, and maybe I got my drink and left. Look, of course I’d want to stop a robbery and keep that barista from getting hurt, but I’m not sure how you think I could accomplish that.”
“And those scrapes on your knuckles? I know they didn’t happen in the courthouse.”
Matt shrugged. “I get banged up a lot.” He waved vaguely in the direction of his cane, carefully not hitting the exact spot. “Blind, y’know.”
Brett sighed, a long, quiet sound. “I think you’re bullshitting me, Murdock. You were there. You broke that guy’s jaw. What I don’t understand is why that barista lied and said it was Daredevil.”
Matt considered his words, keeping his face neutral as he thought. He knew that Brett’s reference to Jane lying was intended to get a rise out of him; he knew, as Jane may not have, that lying to the police was a criminal offense. Of course, he also knew that Jane hadn’t actually lied; he didn’t want her getting into trouble on his behalf, especially when it wasn’t justified.
“She didn’t lie.”
The couch squeaked, maybe as Brett sat up. Foggy had complained about it, not realizing that Matt found it useful. “She told two uniformed officers that Daredevil saved her.”
“How do you know he didn’t?”
Brett sounded exasperated as he replied, and Matt almost felt sorry for him. “Because you did.”
Matt weighed it in his mind. Brett was, by his own admission, the only one who had realized that Matt was the person in the security video. Would he really harass Jane to get her to tell the truth? She’d said no when he’d asked her if he should talk to Brett, but she’d hesitated over her answer. Maybe she was worried.
But if he told Brett, what then?
“Murdock, you’re not. You’re not Daredevil.”
Well. Clearly he’d waited too long to decide. “Uh.”
Brett got to his feet, making a noise of exasperation. “How can you be Daredevil? But you have to be. You were double-talking, so when you said that she didn’t lie, you had to be telling the truth. So what the hell, Murdock? Are you really Daredevil?”
“Can you keep this to yourself?”
“Fuck. That’s the answer, right there. But Daredevil has done some things you need to be able to see to do.”
“Well, I’m still blind. I just have… other perceptions.”
Brett made a sound that made his poor opinion of other perceptions clear, then accused, “You hit me.”
“Uh. Sorry about that. It was a long time ago, and there were extenuating circumstances…”
From the noise Brett made, he didn’t really see it that way. “Let me get this straight,” he said, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “You, as Matt Murdock, kicked this guy’s ass and stopped an armed robbery? You weren’t in whatever Devil suit you’re wearing these days?”
“… correct.”
“And yet the only other witness said that she was saved by Daredevil.”
“Uh. Well, I wasn’t there for any statement she may have given -”
“Murdock.”
“- but it is my understanding that she planned to do that, yes,” Matt added quickly.
“So does she know that you’re Daredevil?”
“No.”
“And so she thinks she lied to the cops.”
Matt sighed, feeling a twist of guilt. “Yes.” He’d told himself that she hadn’t really lied, and that he would intervene if there was an issue, but he shouldn’t have gone with her suggestion to lie in the first place. He knew better than that.
Brett exhaled in what sounded like frustration. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yeah.”
With a short bark of a laugh, Brett said, “At least you admit it. Okay. Since Daredevil did save the day -” Matt probably should have guessed that Brett was capable of that much sarcasm. “- I’m going to let this go. But what are you going to do about Mr. Williams?” Accurately interpreting Matt’s noise of inquiry, he added irritably, “The guy you put in the hospital.”
“I thought I’d go discuss the matter with him.”
“You mean intimidate him? Yeah, no. Not happening. I’ll talk to him.”
Matt drew in a deep breath and then let it out. “Brett -”
“This isn’t for you,” Brett said, his voice crisp. “It’s because Nelson and Murdock would go under if it came out that you’re Daredevil, and I wouldn’t want that to happen to Foggy. Does he know?”
“Yeah.”
“Son of a bitch.”
Matt decided not to ask for clarification on whether Brett meant someone specific. Instead, he just said, “Thanks, Brett.”
“Not for you.”
“Got it.” He could hear Brett moving toward the door and got to his feet. “Uh. G’night, Brett.”
The door closing behind him was his only answer.
Brett managed not to stomp as he left Murdock’s apartment building.
Daredevil.
Matt Murdock was Daredevil.
Brett didn’t know what to do with that information.
Well, he knew some of what he’d do. He was going to find a way to get the DA to cut Williams a deal, and then privately make that deal contingent on Williams keeping his mouth shut about who had stopped the robbery. It wasn’t entirely ethical, but these vigilantes had already made him strain his ethics; he didn’t want Foggy to suffer for his dumbass partner.
Brett decided that he’d go to the hospital and deal with Williams the next day. Just then, he wanted to go have another talk with the barista. He made his way to Brewed Awakenings and was glad to see Jane there, though she didn’t seem to reciprocate the sentiment. She exchanged glances with a coworker and stepped around the counter to meet Brett.
“Just wanted to let you know that I spoke with Daredevil and he confirmed that he was here last night.” Her eyes widened a little and Brett added, his tone even, “You seemed to think I was doubting you, earlier, so I wanted to let you know.”
“O-okay. Thanks. I appreciate that. Uh. Do you want a coffee or anything? No charge.”
“Nah, thanks. I won’t be able to sleep if I drink coffee now.” He smiled and turned to go, calling over his shoulder, “You have a good night, now.”
Jane had looked confused. He’d hoped to reassure her, but wasn’t sure he’d managed it. Right before he'd left, he'd seen some sort of realization dawning in her eyes, and he hoped he hadn't made things worse.
Brett sighed as he turned toward his apartment. There were times when Hell’s Kitchen got to be too much, times when he thought about leaving the city for somewhere quieter: somewhere with fewer vigilantes, maybe. He knew he wouldn’t, though. He loved his city, and the vigilantes needed some honest cops to balance them out.
No, Brett wasn’t going anywhere.