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‘I’d ask you what you’re doing here but from what I hear, you’re not going to give me a straight answer.’
Matt feels a smile creep across his face at the familiar voice but keeps his back to the woman, so she won’t see it. There’s no need to encourage too much friendliness but also no reason to be rude to this particular person. ‘I tell people what they need to know, Miss Jones. Not my fault that doesn’t always line up with what they want to know.’
Jessica Jones’ heart starts to pound, and her breathing speeds up, a hint of a panicked wheeze to it. ‘Did I miss an introduction or should I kick your ass for stalking?’
Oh shit. Matt, you idiot , you’re scaring the woman capable of breaking you. ‘I make it a point to know the names and faces,’ and voices, though he can’t really say that, ‘of people in my neighbourhood that might pose a danger. And you’re not exactly subtle about your… abilities, Miss Jones, not to anyone with an ear to the ground.’ There’s also the fact Matt stumbled upon her fighting a bunch of guys in an alley and decided, after the third one was thrown the length of the alley, to maybe figure out who this woman was. ‘I’ve friends in many places, high and low, and they’re all talking about you.’
‘Huh,’ Jones says. ‘That was almost a straight answer.’
Matt shrugs and finally turns to face her. ‘I’m many things but I’m not a stalker.’ He smirks. ‘I don’t need to be.’
Hearing Jones’ near silent huff of a laugh, Matt turns back to the building he’d been examining, straining his hearing to try and hear what he might be up against. ‘Can I help you with something or have you been hired to talk to me?’
‘If I said neither, you’d say-?’
‘Liar,’ Matt finishes. Under all her grumpy anger, there’s a note of amusement in her voice and that’s making it hard to keep the smirk off his face.
Jones huffs, a note of awe in it. ‘And if I said both?’
‘Still lying.’
That actually gets an impressed hum. It’s quiet enough that Matt doubts anyone else would have heard it but it’s there. ‘Not bad.’ Jones pauses, then asks… well demands really, ‘Which one was I lying about?’
Matt turns to face her, not bothering to keep the surprise surging through him off his face. Jones is good , to notice that. ‘One of them at least.’
Because he can’t actually tell what she’s lying about, only that she is lying. And even that’s not infallible - Elektra and Stick have proved that time and time again. Stick’s always been able to lie to Matt, from the moment they met; and Elektra showed that a lie of omission, so long as everything else she says is truth, won’t register as a lie to Matt’s senses. There’s a reason he asks his, ah, sources such specific questions - it’s easiest for him to pick up a lie when the options for an answer are ‘yes’, ‘no’, or a location.
‘Not a mind reader then,’ Jones says as Matt turns back to the building. She moves up, to crouch beside him. ‘Was wondering.’ Matt hums, his focus shifting back to listening for footsteps in the building. Are there ten or eleven people in there? ‘You are - what’s the word? - a freak?’
‘I’ve heard enhanced,’ Matt admits, giving her a quick second of attention… wait. That voice… it’s too high to be a male, unless they’re very young…
His blood turns to ice as he manages to focus on the fast, panicked heartbeat of the child . It’s faint, only audible to Matt because they’re in the room closest to the edge of the building. But it’s there . They have a child in there. A child .
Anger pounds in his veins, the devil in him screaming for blood. He can already feel it on his fists and the desire to taste it in the air is choking him. ‘Why are you here?’ he asks Jones, his tone as neutral as he can make it under the circumstances.
‘Looking into a missing person’s case,’ she says, her tone just as controlled. ‘Some two-bit office worker disappeared and the family’s got more sense than money. Figured paying my rates was easier than finding someone with a better office but worse rep. Got myself lead here and saw you lurking; thought maybe you might have something.’
She’s not lying, but her heart is pounding. Definitely picked up on Matt’s anger. ‘They have a child in there,’ he says… well actually it’s more of a growl.
Jones stops breathing for a moment, making what can only be called a choking noise. ‘A kid . They have a kid in there?’ Something about the tone in her voice, the note of anger under the tonelessness, adds fuel to the fire of the devil in Matt. He nods. ‘Fuck.’
‘Succinct summary,’ Matt deadpans. ‘Want in?’
‘Might as well,’ Jones says, not even pausing to consider the offer. Or even to give the illusion of considering the offer, her thundering heartbeat and gritted teeth evidence of the effect Matt’s words have had on her. ‘I might even find something that’ll get me paid,’ she adds, in a voice that’s trying for carefree and self absorbed - and failing miserably.
Matt nods. ‘They’re people smugglers, as far as I can tell.’
‘Bastards,’ Jones hisses under her breath. ‘What’s the plan then?’ she says in a much louder voice.
Plan. Right. Um. ‘I get us in, we attack. Get the kid out.’
‘...So hope is your plan, basically. Get in and hope it turns out for the best.’
Something about the tone - or really, lack of tone - of Jones’ voice has Matt tensing. ‘I have a plan.’
‘You have hope. Hope is not a plan.’ Well shit, Jones sounds as annoyed as Foggy can be - oh no wait, was when he chewed Matt out for one of his so called ‘stunts’.
And okay yeah sure. It’s not exactly the most complicated of a plan. She might be right about it being little more than hope. But that’s the thing; Matt has the skills to back up his hope. He’s done it before, he’ll do it again.
He’ll do it right now actually. ‘As much of a plan as I need but if you want to waste time coming up with something else, go right ahead. I’ll be in there, saving lives.’
Jumping off the edge of the roof, Matt clenches his jaw against the jarring of his ankles as he lands on the fire escape. That was a bit further down than he thought it was. The next jump is less a jump and more a controlled fall but a roll to absorb momentum at the end of it means he only bruises himself instead of breaking something. He’s on his feet, ready to charge into the building when Jones lands beside him, as light as feather.
As if she’d jumped from a small wall instead of a building. Huh. Not just the strength then.
‘You’re a cocky asshole, aren’t you?’
Matt gives her a small smirk. ‘Personally I think I’m a bit of a daredevil.’
He sprints off, ignoring her outraged - if mostly silent - groans at the joke. Okay so Jones doesn’t have much of a sense of humour.
Her loss.
********
‘Told you,’ Jones says, putting pressure on the injury on Matt’s side. She’s let him keep the mask on, but the rest of his armour is lying on her floor leaving him in his boxers. ‘And now you’re bleeding to death in my apartment.’
Matt swallows a hiss and feels around for the cloth, to wipe the blood he can smell off her forehead. At least she managed to avoid injuries under her clothes else this would be awkward. ‘It’s just a scratch,’ he lies. ‘I’ve had worse.’ Which, isn’t actually a lie.
‘I can tell,’ Jones says dryly, tracing one of Matt’s scars. ‘Bit more left.’
Closing his hand around the cloth, Matt pauses. ‘Thanks,’ he says, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes even though Jones can’t see them.
‘Would taking the mask off help or are you just as blind without it on… Murdock.’
Ice floods through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest. Oh God above, she knows … or suspects? Can he throw her off? Lie?
Jones pulls her hand off Matt’s side and reaches for the first aid kit, seemingly unaware of the turmoil in Matt’s head.
‘I’m no good at stitches, just warning you now. Most of the time I heal too quick to bother with ‘em.’ She runs a finger down another one of Matt’s scars. ‘Guessing that’s not an issue for you.’
She’s too comfortable with his identity… this isn’t a new concept for her. ‘How long have you known?’ Matt says.
‘Connected a few dots when I read up on some of Daredevil’s work.’ She puts the needle into Matt’s flesh and he manages not to flinch, burying the pain under the memory of other, far worse, incidents of this. ‘Got it confirmed tonight when you picked off three assholes in a dark room then didn’t flinch when I flicked the light on.’ Oh huh. Matt… doesn’t actually remember hearing the light click on. Might have been just after the third asshole people smuggler got a lucky stab in the dark - literally - and drove his knife through Matt’s armour and into his side. ‘Either your eyes adjust to light instantly or they don’t adjust at all.’
Matt can’t keep himself from smiling, a small thing that steals across his face. ‘The later.’
Jones nods, then hisses as Matt wipes the blood off her face. ‘Careful!’
‘Sorry, can’t see what I’m doing,’ he says and waits.
It only takes a moment for Jones - Jessica maybe? - to groan. ‘Oh fuck, no.’
Matt smirks then hisses as she pulls another stitch through. ‘Oh fuck yes.’
‘I’m going to regret this,’ Jessica says, her voice grumpy but resigned.
His smile grows even more, at the implied offer in Jessica’s words. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. You can hope you won’t.’
‘For the last time,’ Jessica growls, amusement hidden in her voice, ‘hope is not a plan!’