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Rain fell as if Hell’s Kitchen were trying to wash away sins that would never leave.
Matt Murdock stood motionless on the rooftop, still wearing the red suit.
Water slid down the horn of his mask, along his neck, into the invisible cracks the city had carved into him.
His radar caught everything: distant sirens, a choked scream three blocks away, the uneven beat of his own heart.
And another one.
Heavy.
Controlled.
Furious.
“I knew you’d come,” Frank Castle said from the shadows, his voice low.
Matt didn’t turn.
“I always do.”
Frank stepped into the rain.
Jacket soaked, gun holstered, eyes hollow like trenches that never closed.
He didn’t aim. He never did with Matt. Not because he couldn’t—but because something in him resisted it.
“How many?” Matt asked.
Frank clenched his jaw.
“Five.”
Matt exhaled slowly. Five lives. Five sins. Five names that no longer mattered.
“Would you do it again?” Matt asked.
“Yes.”
No pause.
No guilt.
Only certainty.
Matt nodded, and the gesture weighed more than any blow.
“That’s what you are, Frank. Violence. Pure. Without disguise.”
Frank took a step closer, rain striking his face.
“And you’re faith,” he shot back—not as an insult, but as something that hurt. “Faith that someone like me can stop.”
Matt turned to face him at last. His white eyes saw nothing—and everything.
“Faith that even you can choose not to cross the final line.”
Frank let out a dry laugh.
“I crossed it years ago, Red.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with death and broken promises.
Matt heard it all: the way Frank’s pulse spiked when he lied, the fracture in his breathing whenever his family went unspoken.
“Tell me the truth,” Matt said quietly. “Why did you come?”
Frank waited too long.
“Because this time…” He swallowed. “This time I wondered if I was punishing… or just tired.”
The words hit Matt like a fist to the chest.
“Punishment isn’t justice,” Matt said. “And I’m not the devil—no matter what the city calls me.”
“No,” Frank replied. “You’re worse.”
Matt tilted his head.
“Worse?”
“You doubt.”
The word hung there, sharp. Frank stepped closer—too close.
Matt felt the heat of his body through the rain.
“I kill the guilty and I sleep,” Frank continued. “You save everyone… and you never rest.”
Matt closed his eyes beneath the mask.
“Because I believe life is worth more than my exhaustion.”
Frank shook his head.
“That’s faith. And faith is a luxury when you’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
Matt moved closer too. There was no threat in his stance. Only shared fatigue.
“I accept what you are,” Matt said. “I don’t try to change you. I can’t absolve you.”
Frank stared at him.
“Then why do you keep showing up?”
Matt smiled faintly.
“Because you accept what I am.”
Frank didn’t answer right away.
His breathing wavered—imperceptible to anyone else.
“You’re a damn problem, Murdock.”
“I know.”
Thunder rolled in the distance, like a confession no one would hear.
Frank spoke again, quieter.
“When I pull the trigger… there’s a second. Just one. Where I think about you.”
The world stilled.
“And what do you think?” Matt asked carefully.
Frank closed his eyes.
“That if you were there… you’d tell me not to do it.”
He opened them again.
“And that I’d probably listen.”
Something in Matt broke.
“That doesn’t make you weak,” Matt said. “It makes you human.”
“Don’t use that word with me,” Frank snapped.
“I will,” Matt said firmly. “Because you still are. Even if you hate it.”
Frank stepped back as if the words burned.
“Don’t follow me, Red.”
“I never have.”
“You’re lying.”
Matt inclined his head.
“I find you. I don’t chase you. There’s a difference.”
Frank stood still.
The rain no longer mattered.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
“If you ever stop me,” Frank said, “it won’t be because you’re right.”
“It’ll be because I don’t want to lose you,” Matt replied without thinking.
The silence that followed was brutal.
Frank clenched his fists.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t save you,” Frank growled. “Not you. Not me.”
Matt took the final step. No distance remained.
“I’m not looking for salvation,” he whispered. “I’m looking for balance.”
Frank inhaled like before a fight.
“Then we’re screwed.”
Matt placed a hand over Frank’s chest, right where his heart slammed hard.
“Maybe. But we’re here. In the middle.”
Frank closed his eyes for a second.
When he opened them, something had shifted.
“Don’t fire tonight,” Matt asked.
Frank hesitated. And that hesitation was the smallest, most fragile—and most important—victory.
“I won’t promise tomorrow,” Frank said at last.
“I’d never ask you to.”
Frank turned away and walked toward the edge of the roof, ready to vanish back into the city that needed him and feared him.
“Red,” he said without looking back. “If the devil exists…”
Matt waited.
“…it’s not you.”
Frank jumped.
Matt remained in the rain, listening as Frank’s heartbeat faded into the city—still beating. Still alive.
Violence and faith.
And, for now, a narrow place in between where both could exist.