Work Text:
"Are you alright?" Matt asks again, for the 3rd week in a row. You're not sure how he knows, but you guess he's referring to the constantly appearing cuts on your arms and legs.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"You just seem off lately."
"Oh. I guess I am. Late nights and early mornings do not do the body good."
"Ah. Well, working as a paralegal does take its toll." He laughed a little, holding his cane a little tighter.
"Okay, I'm gonna go back to work. Do you need anything?"
"Nah, just wanted to check in." Matt smiled.
"Alright, well, check in complete, I guess."
"Yeah." He straightened up awkwardly and went back to his office.
"He liiiiiiiikes you." Karen teased after Matt's door clicked shut.
"Shut up! He does not!" You giggle, opening the filing cabinet and sorting the huge stack of files you had put together for the last case.
"He totally does." Foggy piped up, leaning against the door frame. You looked back into Matt's office just in time to see him pull the blind down, a bright blush rising in his cheeks.
"Well, he wouldn't if he knew what I did after work." You say knowingly, sliding one drawer shut and pulling another open.
Foggy and Karen laughed. "What, are you a stripper or something?" Karen asked, turning back to her laptop.
"No."
"Underground boxer?" Foggy suggested, handing you a file.
"Something like that. But you can't say anything about it."
"Say anything about what?" Matt emerged from his office again, briefcase in hand and stern jaw set.
"Nothing. Just making a joke." Foggy covered. "Where you off to?"
"Got a call from Mahoney. He got us a B and E."
"How kind. I'll meet you downstairs."
"Sweet. See you two tomorrow." Matt tipped a pretend hat, opening the door and leaving the office.
"Oh, yeah. He likes you." Karen assured you.
Blood. All you could see was blood.
You collapsed on your bathroom floor, peeling off your tight shirt and kicking off your pants trying to remember why you thought fighting crime was ever a good idea.
Why in the hell did I not just become a cop. You think as you prop yourself up on the side of your bathtub. Slashes criss cross your arms and chest, cutting your thin body armor and sports bra to ribbons. A few cuts managed to break skin, some only welling up with blood, and some pouring.
"Oh Jesus." You yelp as you press a gauze pad onto a deep cut on your wrist. “Hooooooooly fuck!” you screech under your breath, hoping the neighbors can’t hear you.
The fight you narrowly escaped from was between you and some Chinese mob members, having taken over the city after Fisk was dumped behind bars and Nobu killed. They were protecting one of the many heroin factories in Manhattan and some noise above you gave away your position. After they opened fire and you dodged until they ran out of bullets, you dropped down to fight them hand to hand and were not expecting the knives they carried.
Let's just say you were lucky to escape with your throat intact.
You entered the office the next morning to find Foggy and Karen staring at her laptop, enthralled with the images on the screen.
“Y/N, have you seen this?”
“What?” You come around to see a breaking news story.
“Several men, believed to be members of the Chinese mob that has overrun Hell’s Kitchen since the incarceration of Wilson Fisk this past year, were found dumped in the alley near the 15th precinct of the NYPD this morning. Some had been knocked out for several hours and those who have not yet regained consciousness have been transported to General Health. Preliminary reports suggested that the Masked Man, known as Daredevil, was responsible for leaving the men in this condition, but sources close to the interviewed men claim a masked woman is responsible. Has a new vigilante stepped from the shadows in an attempt to take up the Daredevil’s mantle, or is a new gang in town? We’ll keep you posted on any updates as this story develops. Mari, back to you.”
“Huh.” Is all you could say after Karen let the news clip time out.
“A new vigilante?” Foggy stood, disbelief on his face. “As if this city needed any more.”
“And a woman, no less.” You add.
“I think it’s good that a woman has taken a stand. Time to get some girl power in the boys club of heroes.” Karen defended, standing and going over to the counter to refill her coffee.
“Is it you, Karen?” Foggy joked.
“No. I’m just saying. If guys can be heroes and vigilantes, why can’t girls?”
“It’s not so unbelieveable, Foggy. I mean, take Black Widow for example. She’s running with the big dogs and sometimes running ahead, from what I hear.” You agree, shrugging. “Girls were bound to join the vigilante game in this town soon enough.”
“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t have to go through what Daredevil did.” Matt piped up, entering the room.
“I think she’s more subject to celebrity fashion and fitness douchebags, if anyone gets a picture or video of her.” Karen says, smirking into her coffee.
“And media conjecture about whether or not she and Daredevil will become an item.” You add.
“I’m guessing vigilante gossip and tabloids are going to be a hot ticket item here pretty soon.” Foggy piled on, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, if she needs any legal help, our doors are wide open.” Matt said in a strange tone, as if he knew she was here in that moment. As if he knew that you were the woman they were joking about.
“Well, we should probably get back to work, kids.” Foggy interjected. “This B&E case won’t build itself.”
You deflected questions of concern about your new bandages, saying it was nothing, that you’d just fell on something yet again, this time it was broken bottles from taking out the trash, but you were okay. Matt seemed the most concerned, asking almost every hour if you were doing okay and if you were feeling weird or out of place.
“Yeah, weird about all of these questions.” You snapped, trying to shrug him off. Matt’s concern made you a little uncomfortable, no one ever cared enough about you to be concerned about your injuries.
After a long slog at work, Karen and Foggy begged you and Matt to go out from drinks at Josie’s, but you both had the same excuse.
“I am way too tired, and getting drunk sounds like the worst idea.”
After a quick nap at home, you flipped on your police scanner and opened your closet door, pulling out the rubbermaid container marked ‘Camping’. Inside was nestled your second set of body armour, slightly more bulky than your usual set, but this set would have to do until you got it fixed. Over it you pulled your dark blue spandex shirt and pulled up black pants. After lacing up your Docs and tying on your mask, you listened closely to the police scanner, strapping on your gloves and tucking a knife into a pocket on your belt.
“We’ve got a local disturbance call on 49th and 11th, likely gang related, what’s your ETA, over?” The dispatcher crackled over the speaker.
“Car 19 in about 20 minutes out, over.”
“Any car’s closer, over.”
“No, ma’am, Friday night traffic’s got us locked down.” was the general consensus.
“Car 19, you’re on, over.”
Well, 49th and 11th not that far. I can make it there before the cops. You tell yourself, opening the window and dropping onto the fire escape, careful not to make too much noise as you climbed up to the roof.
****
"Yeah, weird about all of these questions." She snapped, signaling you to stop asking. The new bandages on her wrists hadn’t gone unnoticed and you couldn't help but think she had escalated from self harm to suicide. You apologized for prying and went back to work.
Work could only distract for so long before your thoughts began to wander to possibilities other than suicide.
Maybe Foggy was right. Maybe she is an underground boxer. You considered. Or a street fighter?
But you glanced at the woman across the table, small and lithe, but not a fighter.
“Matt, are you even listening to me?” Foggy pierced your bubble.
“Yeah, sorry. I was distracted by something, what were you saying?”
“Just asking if you knew if the prosecution sent over the surveillance video like they promised.”
You checked your email, carefully running your fingers over the braille as you scrolled over the inbox.
“No, nothing.”
“Of course not.” Foggy sighed, shaking his head. Your glance had wandered back over to her, darting back over the papers strewn before you when she looked up from her laptop.
At lunch, the girls went out to get food for everyone, chatting about the news story from this morning. You wanted to go back to your office and do research alone, but Foggy had other ideas.
“What is your deal with her?”
“Huh?” You ask, putting down a file and taking off your glasses to rub the tiredness from your eyes.
“You know what I’m talking about, Matt.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Foggy.”
“You’re obsessing again, and you know it’s not healthy.”
“I’m just a concerned friend.”
“A concerned friend who is really persistent.”
“Foggy, I think she’s been trying to kill herself.” You say plainly, the words you hadn’t dare speak before hanging in the air between you.
“Holy shit. Are you sure?”
“Have you seen the kinds of cuts she shows up to work with? All over her arms and legs?”
“She could also enjoy hiking through bramble bushes.”
“Or she could be harming herself and she may have escalated last night.”
“Matt, have you talked to her about this?”
“I tried, but I don’t know how.” You sigh, leaning back in the chair. “Self harm and suicide is a tough subject.”
“Yeah, not exactly water cooler conversation.”
That night, after work and rejecting yet another invitation to go out drinking with Foggy and Karen, you were still distracted by the thoughts eating at the back of your mind. You thought perhaps beating up a few gangbangers might clear your head.
“Mommy, I’m scared.” You heard a little girl say as shouts echoed in the alley on 49th and 11th.
“It’s okay, baby. The police will be here soon. You’re safe, okay?”
You leap from roof to roof, following the sound of footsteps and excited shouting, before finally perching on a ledge just above the noisemakers.
From the chatter they were making, you could discern Mandarin and Russian mixed in with the broken English.
Gao’s men.
You drop as silently as you can down the ladder, landing on the dead end side of the alley, a fence at you back and a gang of drug dealers at you front. But, strangely, they were already distracted by someone you can’t see, but you can hear a heartbeat different from the rest. Smaller and stronger, but still scared as hell.
“Hey, little girl.” You heard one say. “Ain’t you the one who left some of us outside the police?”
She, whoever it was, didn’t answer and that pissed them off. They attacked and you decided to take a few by surprise, lunging from behind.
As the smaller heartbeat, her heartbeat, got closer, you noticed something familiar about her. The way her hair flipped over her shoulder and the way she kicked a guy square in the jaw seemed so similar to someone you knew and you just couldn’t place it.
You were so distracted by your racing mind, after disarming one of the gangsters and feeling a presence behind you, you stab wildly, connecting blade with flesh.
“Augh!” She shrieked, the knife jutting out from her hip. She finished off the guy she’d been wailing on and pulled the knife from her side, sending a gush of blood from the wound.
She looked up at you and you could sense her despair, the men they’d just fought groaning and coughing at your feet. The blade you just stabbed her with dropped from her hand and she screamed, “What the actual fuck!”
Then it clicked.
Oh no.
****
“Hooooooly shit, I’m gonna die. This is how I die. In an alley, stabbed by fuckin’ horny boy.” You press your hands to the wound, but the gushing blood is too much and you can barely stand, but you know you have to get away.
And he just runs. He hightails it up a ladder and out of sight.
“Ooooooof course he does.” You shout, hobbling over to the fence, lucky to find it unlocked.
When you finally hobble into your apartment, you’ve lost so much blood you have to crawl on your hand and knees to your bathroom, leaving the front door wide open. Your first aid kit is just in reach of where you collapsed on the floor and you dig around for the needle and thread and scissors, ripping open your shirt and cutting through the body armour. After ripping off your gloves with your teeth and trying to hold the wound closed, threading the needle seems to be the hardest thing on the planet before you’re able to stab the needle into your skin.
“Aaaaaaaaugh!” You scream, pulling the thread through your flesh and stabbing the needle in again.
****
Oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m so fucking fucked. You paced around your apartment, your mask lying forgotten on the couch and most of your suit forgotten on the floor. The girl you were so concerned for, that you were becoming very protective of, even maybe starting to have... feelings for, was, is, a vigilante. And you just stabbed her in the hip.
You stopped your pacing for a second and listened. Screams of pain and anguish were shockingly close by, and you knew they belonged to her. You stripped out of the rest of your suit and quickly donned the nearest clothes you could find, running to the apartment building across the street. The landlady buzzed you in and directed you to her apartment, where the door stood wide open and she screamed and writhed on her bathroom floor.
****
Matthew Murdock, of all people, appeared in your bathroom doorway, concern wrought on his face.
“Where the fuck did you come from?”
“I live across the street. Your neighbor called.”
“You know Ms. Aliana?”
“I helped her husband out of a work related assault charge. Not important, you’re bleeding.”
“How did you guess?”
“Well, blood is pretty smelly.” He took the needle and thread from your hand and told you to lay flat on the floor. You asked him to hand you a washcloth to bite down on and he obliged without even asking you to direct him. “I am so sorry.”
“About what?” You asked through the terry cloth, as the needle penetrated your flesh once more.
“Letting you get into this.” He sewed quickly and you barely felt a thing after the first pinch.
“Letting me?” You took the towel from your mouth as he helped you over to the tub, where he leaned you against the side.
“If I had taken care of more of Madame Gao’s operation, you wouldn’t have felt it necessary to become a vigilante.” He started cutting off the rest of your shirt and armour, exposing the bruises and reopened cuts from the night before.
“What are you saying?”
“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” He unwrapped the soiled gauze, throwing it aside and set about cleaning out the slices in your skin.
“Matt, you’re a lawyer. What does that have to do with me getting stabbed by Daredevil, or Madame Gao’s gang or anything?”
“You don’t get it. I am Daredevil.”
“Stop.”
His hands didn’t stop tending to your injuries.
“Stop!” You shouted, pushing him away. He had been balancing on the balls of his feet and, taken by surprise, he fell flat on his ass, and wore a look of surprise to match.
“Did I hurt you?” His surprise changed to concern again.
“Yeah, you did.” You tried to point to your stab wound, but even the slightest movement slapped you in the face.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Well, sorry’s not gonna cut it.”
“Let me take care of you.”
“Why should I ever let you touch me again?”
He kneeled before you on his knees so you couldn’t knock him down again, took off his glasses, and looked you square in the eye. “Because I thought you were trying to kill yourself and I wanted to protect you from whatever demons haunted you, and now I know that that isn’t the case, and while this is better than suicide, I don’t think it’s much. So, please, let me take care of you and try and protect you from the demons I created.”
You nodded and he returned to his work, cleaning out your wounds and helping you into the shower. After all the blood had washed away, he wrapped you in a towel, sat you on the toilet and drew a bath.
“Why?” You asked as the tub filled with water.
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me? Why do you care?”
“Because…” he stopped, thinking carefully as to what to say next. “Because I feel personally responsible for all those I hold dear to me.”
“But, how can you hold me dear. You hired me to help you research and file papers. You interviewed me at Josie’s. You just fuckin’ stabbed me!” You get more than a little irate and have to take a second to breathe.
He turned off the water, sitting on the edge of the tub.
“You’re… well, you’re something else, Y/N. I just can’t explain what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I close my eyes and there you are, even when you aren’t in the room I hear your voice.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You were pretty sure you were hallucinating, but the pain from breathing proved you weren’t.
“What are you saying, Matt?”
“I’m not really sure myself.”
“Because if you’re saying you love me-”
“No, I-”
“I mean, I’d be fine-”
“That’s not what-”
“I like you.” You blurt out, feeling like a kid again. “Like, I like like you.”
Matt took your hand, smiling, a laugh on his lips. “I feel like I’m in middle school again."
"Do you wanna pass me a note that says will you be my girlfriend in pink marker with two boxes marked yes or no?" You joked.
"Would that work?" He laughed a little.
"Well," you joined him on the edge of the tub. "I wouldn't say no."
You leaned in and pressed your lips gently to his, your eyes slipping close. Matt put his free hand gently on the back of your neck and kissed back with a little more vigor than you had expected. After a few short moments, he pulled back, a little out of breath, and whispered with a smile,
"I like like you too."