Chapter Text
Jan 9-10, 2015
Manhattan
Matt Murdock did not know what woke him up. Only that it wasn't anything life threatening. He found his glasses easily enough. He also found himself a sweatshirt –the one he had worn the night before– and walked to his door as he got himself into said sweatshirt (not without wincing at the pain across his ribs from his nightly adventures as the local vigilante). He listened for clues as to who (or what) was at the door, but all he could hear were soft breaths, even and quiet, almost like whoever was at the door was... sleeping?
Why would someone sleep at his door, he wondered as he listened for another moment, but there was nothing else.
Pulling his door open, which seemed to disturb the sleeping person –you–, he stilled as he waited for you to wake up.
You didn't.
Sighing to himself, he crouched next to your sleeping figure –knees drawn close to your chest and body leaning into the wall next to his door– and he tapped you lightly on the shoulder, startling you awake. He moved back a little as you straightened up, your heartbeat indicating that you were still not completely out of your dreamscape.
“Micheal?” your soft, sleep-addled voice sounded very quietly. Perhaps quietly enough to be inaudible to anyone with normal hearing. “Mikey? What are you doing here?”
Matt blinked behind his glasses and tried to remember if he had met you before, but he came up empty.
“Murdock, I swear-” You cut yourself off as you finally took in his appearance, your heartbeat spiking for a few seconds and then evening out as you pushed your hair back and looked at him (and your surroundings) curiously and maybe a little cautiously. Then your voice got louder, at least to a normal volume, but still quiet enough to not draw attention (not that anyone was around anyway). “Matthew?!”
Okay, what?
“Uh... do I... know you?” he finally asked.
“You’re Matthew Murdock.” A statement, not a question.
“Yeah.”
“Y/n. I'm Y/n Wilson.” You swore to yourself softly and then looked up at him. “What time is it?”
He cocked his head as he listened for the announcements at the subway station. “Around two or three, I'd say. Not sure.”
“Okay.” You took a deep breath, shivering a little from the cold air. “Is Micheal around?” you asked as you drew your hoodie closer to your body.
“Who?”
“Mike Murdock. Your brother.”
Matt watched you in confusion, eyebrows drawing together even as concern about you sitting on the cold ground warred with his confusion. “I don't… have a brother?”
You tilted your head as you leaned forward, confusion making your heart race before settling into a calm but slightly elevated rhythm again.
“What do you-” But you cut yourself off. “Oh fuck. Really? This one again?”
“Uh, what?”
Very eloquent, Matthew Murdock. Stunning delivery.
Matt wondered if he had already started dreaming. Quite unlikely considering the fact that he had come in not too long ago after his regular night out. Barely half an hour or so ago. But he still discretely pinched himself just to be sure.
Not dreaming then, he decided.
“I’ve been here before. This universe, that is.” Truth.
“This… universe?” he asked.
“I sometimes end up in different universes?” Truth, again.
Also, were you asking him?
When he looked a bit skeptical, you continued, “I know you can tell if I’m lying. You can listen to my heartbeat.” Then, “Even if it’s kinda intrusive,” you added as if it were a second thought.
“I’m not even gonna ask how you know that,” Matt said, already regretting opening the door.
He was way too tired to deal with this crisis right now.
“Smart. Anyway, I am from an alternate world where you have a brother, which you apparently don’t, here. Y’know, this is the only version where you don’t have a brother.”
When you both stood up, the top of your head barely reaching his chin, he stepped back a little to allow you some space, grimacing slightly as he did so. Moving was so not a good idea.
You noticed, and taking pity on him, gave him a sympathetic smile. “Long night?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm. The Matt in my universe had it easier, now that I think of it. Y’know, a brother to share the burden and all that.”
Well… he didn’t know, but he nodded slightly anyway.
You considered him for a moment. “Do you mind if I come in? Also, what year is it?”
“2015.”
“Yikes. I suppose we are still cleaning up the messes of 2012?”
“You could say that,” Matt muttered as he ushered you in and shut the door before walking back to his room.
Was he being a bad host?
Maybe. But in his defense, he was very tired and what you were saying didn’t seem real even though you were telling the truth.
He wondered if letting you stay was a good idea. Maybe not. Most probably not.
Who was he kidding? This would most definitely come back to bite him in the ass later.
“Listen-” he started, only to be interrupted by you.
“You can go to sleep, Matthew. I know how to keep myself entertained. Besides,” you said with a flourishing gesture, “I know your house. I’ll be fine.” Truth. Again.
“‘Know my house’?”
“The layout and stuff. I’ll be fine. I mean, we almost got married at one point, so…”
“You and… Matt?” he asked. Why would someone want to marry him?
His body, meanwhile, screamed about his lack of sleep and the sheer exhaustion from his activities not more than a couple of hours ago. He politely ignored it.
“No. Me and Mike. We called it off because of his tendency to keep Matt and me out of the vigilante shit. And a few other reasons as well, but this was the major issue, y’know, trust is important in any relationship and all that jazz.”
Matt had no idea how to reply to that statement. He settled for a soft “Oh.”
It wasn't like he had the high ground in that area. Not even Foggy knew about his masked nights out.
“And yeah, Matt, too, I guess?”
What?
His mind started shooting several questions at him: Were you alright with the devil’s nights out business then? You didn’t mind all the vigilante stuff? Did people normally call off marriages because their partner refused to let them be a vigilante or share their experience of being one? And why would you have been engaged to both him and his brother? Granted, it was none of his business in the first place… Maybe he should send you away? But then, after last night’s (this morning?) events with the trafficking and the kidnappings and everything else going on in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt didn’t have it in him to send you, a lone woman, out into the streets.
Then remembering the ‘almost got married’ part, he paused in the doorway to his bedroom even as you remained by the couch, inspecting everything around you but not touching anything. He debated as to whether to offer you the bed or not. He was a gentleman after all.
“What did you mean by ‘almost got married’? What happened?” was what he ended up asking. And even then, he didn’t know whom he was asking about – himself or his supposed brother in your universe.
You smiled as you (finally!) sat down on the couch, shaking your head in amusement.
“Go to sleep, Matthew. You need it, I can tell. And take the bed. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping right now,” you said, making the decision for him. Then looking around yourself, you asked in a faint voice (which Matt caught anyway), “Just how different can the same person be in different worlds?”
Not much, he hoped, but maybe not very little either. How would he know?
He wouldn’t. He didn’t.
So, he got himself into bed, more tired than he had been earlier.
Maybe he wouldn’t regret opening the door all that much. Only time will tell.