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This is not how Karen imagined her wedding day to go.
She was meant to wake up in their apartment, her dress hanging up against the wardrobe door. She was meant to sip coffee as she got ready, anxiously reading her vows to make sure she got them right and worrying about Matt getting cold feet across the city at Foggy’s place.
She was meant to be giddy and scared and so ridiculously happy it made her feel drunk.
Because she was marrying Matt.
Not a fairytale ending but a vow to love despite fear. To build despite the war. A future together that starts today.
But she didn’t wake up in bed to a giddiness that would have made her early to the church. No, she spent the night in an interrogation room handcuffed to a table by a detective with an axe to grind and something to prove.
A detective who seems hell bent on holding her for the full forty eight hours he can despite the fact she is meant to be getting biblically married in about roughly two hours to the love of her life.
Blushing bride she is not.
Pissed and angry, that about sums it up.
Earnshaw, the detective, is eyeing her from across the table as he sips his coffee in what Karen can only describe as a power move. He is enjoying this. Repeating questions she has already answered to try and trip her up. Making her sweat it out to prove he holds the cards. It would work on most people, she knows, but Karen doesn’t spook easily. She has too many demons, too much stubbornness. She has been in love with Daredevil for too long.
“So, let’s go over this again.” Earnshaw says, smacking his lips together, “Why were you trespassing on private property. Property that belongs to the Shellman Foundation Group?”
Karen is tired, her wrists ache and she needs to pee. She gave up playing these games hours ago.
“I was barely trespassing.” She bites out, not for the first time, “And SFG is a subsidiary of a shell company of a shell company which I’m 90% sure is owned by Wilson Fisk.”
“Do you have proof?”
She sighs and her ribs sting. She thinks they are probably bruised, Earnshaw slammed her against the car door when he arrested her because she was ‘resisting’. Karen was tame, if she was resisting then he would fucking know it. Matt had taught her how to flip a guy without blinking and where to land a punch that would make them drop like an anvil. She doesn’t like being manhandled (unless Matt is doing that thing during sex) so maybe she was a little passive aggressive with him but she wasn’t resisting. Not in the definition of the law anyway.
Her bruises will make a fun surprise for Matt on their wedding night.
It will certainly make a change. Bruises marring her skin rather than his. Maybe they’ll have a matching set to go with their wedding bands. Maybe this is God (or The Devil) blessing their union. She’s tough enough to handle Matt on his worst day, a power-hungry cop is nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“I was there to find it. I’m an investigator with Nelson, Murdock and Page.” She repeats, feels like the words tumble from her mouth in practiced phrases.
Earnshaw narrows his eyes, “I have to make a few calls, you sit tight.”
He is a tall man, gray hair slicked back with enough gel that it looks shiny as plastic. He is clean-shaven but his eyebrows are thick and expressive, furrowed currently in annoyance. Karen doesn’t see a ring on his finger but there is a stain on his collar that tells her he probably had eggs for breakfast.
“I have to get out of here.” She says, tries to rise on instinct then remembers her mistake as it jars her wrists and her ribs. Pain hums through her body and forces her back into her seat. She clenches her jaw.
“Tell me how you knew about the shell companies. Tell me the name of your source.” He replies, “Then we can talk.”
Oh she hates him.
Because Karen can’t say Daredevil caught the lead and gave it to her before he pulled her into the shower for the hottest sex of her life. That she promised to be careful as he buried himself so deeply inside of her she was begging for him. Although the look on Earnshaw’s face would be worth it. She laughs bitterly instead, lacing her fingers together in front of her as the metal of the handcuffs bite into her skin.
“I get a phone call. I’m not talking without my lawyer.” She says. Again.
Earnshaw ignores her, pasting on a fake smile that makes Karen want to punch him as he picks up his coffee and saunters out the room.
New York’s Finest, she scoffs, what a joke.
The interrogation room she is being held in looks similar to the one she was in when she first met Matt and Foggy. A square box of a room with no window and no clock. In truth, she has no idea what time it is. Earnshaw dragged her in for processing at three this morning, and it’s been hours since then. The cream walls are starting to make her ill, the chips in the table becoming too familiar as she counts them.
This was meant to be a simple retcon mission. She couldn’t sleep without Matt next to her so Karen had decided to work. Matt’s lead had led her to one small breakthrough after another and well, when Fisk’s name popped up she couldn’t ignore it. It was meant to be a quick scout, find out if there was anything useful at the warehouse by the dock and then feed it back to Daredevil to find it properly. An extra wedding present if she got lucky.
The fact Earnshaw wasn’t even dressed like he was on duty at the time didn’t sit well with her.
Karen knows when something feels off.
She wonders what Matt is doing right now. Getting ready? Heading to the church? God, he is waiting for her at the aisle?
The idea of him waiting for her makes her stomach drop, icy and sick. She cannot do this to him. She will not do this to him.
Karen rattles the cuffs against the bar screwed into the table angrily. Her ring glints in the light, sitting on her left hand where it has been since Matt slid it onto her finger. Elegant, silver band with an oval diamond. Nothing flashy but something personal. The inside is ingrained in braille, forever, pressed against her heart line as it thrums against her finger.
This can not be happening.
She cannot miss her own wedding.
She cannot leave Matt alone at the altar waiting for her. She knows how his mind works, knows it will split in two. Half of him worried she has been taken, the other half worried she has abandoned him because she can’t do this.
Those fears clings to him, even now. Matt knows she loves him, knows building a future with him is all she wants but she also knows that trauma inside him lingers like cheap perfume. He is trying, she knows that as well. Matt tells her now. The shape of his worry, the lines of his scar tissue. Healing them is not an easy process and this would be a devastating tug against those old wounds.
So, staying here is not an option. Not today.
The door opens unexpectedly and Karen glares, assuming Earnshaw is coming back to ask her more pointless questions considering he doesn’t have enough evidence to charge her.
Brett darts in instead, a bottle of water under one arm and a look of disbelief on his face.
“Brett!”
She knows better than to try and rise again but the relief she feels at seeing him zings through her.
He walks over to her quickly, “You want to tell me why I’m about to clock out so I can head home and change before heading to the church when the bride is sitting in an interrogation room handcuffed to a table?”
Karen wants to cry, “Our justice system is flawed?”
“The report said trespassing.”
“Look, I don’t have time. Is he going to charge me?”
Brett slides the bottle of water over to her but she doesn’t reach for it, “Earnshaw is a hard bastard. Transferred from Ohio, trying to prove he’s a rising star.” He runs a hand across his brow, “He is holding you to try and find something that will stick.”
“For trespassing?” She asks incredulously.
“You’ve riled him up, that’s for sure.”
Of course she has. Because when has Karen Page ever kept her mouth shut?
“Brett, what time is it?”
He checks his watch, “11:47."
Okay, the ceremony starts at two. She has time, she needs to get out of here then back to the apartment to change and make it to the church. She needs these handcuffs off.
“He hasn’t given me my phone call yet.” She tells him, “Can you help me out with that?”
Brett nods, “I can call Matt when I clock out, get him here to…”
“Not Matt.” Karen replies quickly, “Foggy. I need you to call Foggy.”
“Not your husband to be?”
She shakes her head, “No. Because it’s our wedding day, Brett and this is not how I want Matt to remember it.”
In truth, Karen has been obsessed with giving Matt this one perfect thing. She wants him to know this day is sacred. It’s why she brought up having it in the church that means so much to him before he could. Matt’s surprise was stunning, his smile afterwards even more so. It’s why she also insisted they have the reception on the rooftop of their building in the evening.
“I’m marrying Daredevil too.” She told him, “It’s as close as we can get to making sure all aspects of our life are represented.”
Matt had kissed her like he never wanted to stop, like she had given him a gift rather than a cold night in Hell’s Kitchen on a rooftop with their friends.
Brett sighs softly, eyes on the door, “I need to go before he comes back. I’m meant to be collecting things off the printer but when I saw your name on the report…”
“Thank you, Brett.”
“I’ll call Foggy.”
Karen nods, “Tell him not to tell Matt. I will personally tell his mom he bailed on thanksgiving to spend a weekend with Marci reliving the glory days if he does.”
“Hang tight, okay?” Brett replies, “Try not to piss him off. I’m not dressing up in a monkey suit if there isn’t a wedding.”
The idea guts her, “There is a wedding.” It comes out more aggressive than she intends but right now, all Karen cares about is marrying Matt and the universe really is trying to screw with her.
So, she will screw the universe right back.
Brett gives her a dubious look before slipping out the door, shutting it softly behind him. Karen slumps against the back of her chair, her body achy and tired. The bottle of water he brought mocks her from the edge of the table, even if she could reach it, thanks to the cuffs she doesn’t have the motion of her hands to be able to twist the cap off.
She waits instead.
Sitting in the interrogation room in her scruffy trainers, sweatpants and a dark gray hoodie that belongs to Matt. She had grabbed it off the peg on her way out the door, dark colours to help her blend in with the night, a hood to hide her hair.
God, is Fisk still ruining their lives?
Even now?
Karen had checked for cameras before she hopped the fence, was certain there weren’t any. She hadn’t even entered the building, the names on the pallets outside giving her all the information she needed.
Then Earnshaw looked smug as she climbed back over the other side, leaning against his car. He had spoken to her the second her trainers touched the asphalt, like he knew she would be there.
Not a coincidence surely.
She starts tapping out a rhythm with her nails on the table, praying Foggy comes quickly so they can get out of here. Hoping he brings breakfast too. Her and Matt have said all along that Foggy is best man to them both, Karen is really hoping as her best man he can pull off this rescue. As Matt’s best man he is probably helping him get ready, offering words to calm any nerves. She could use some of that Foggy energy right now.
Karen is starving. And worried.
Eventually, Earnshaw comes back with his smug grin and a folder of loose paper he didn’t have before.
“Okay, let’s go over this one more time.”
Karen fights the urge to scream. Or kick him under the table.
She shifts forward in her seat, elbows on the table. Her ring catches the fluorescent light that is giving her a headache from the brightness and this time, she keeps her mouth shut.
His questions fall on deaf ears. Karen stares him out that way she has been people do in court. She tries to think about what Matt would do, looking for clues in his voice or his posture that might give her a sign that she can use.
Earnshaw is getting angrier but the minute, his neck is flushed red and his speech is becoming more punctuated with every silence that follows a question. His shoulders hunch by his ears as he flips through the file in his hand. Newspaper articles she has written. Her arrest report from Daniel Fisher’s murder.
Somewhere she can’t see, a clock keeps ticking, getting closer to her wedding.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Earnshaw tells her, voice clipped, “I’m going to keep you here as long as I can. We’re going to keep going over the same questions until you give me some actual answers so if I were in your shoes Karen, can I call you Karen? I would start reevaluating your approach to this interview.”
Her fingers curl into fists, “Or you could actually do your job and catch criminals. Trust me, this city is full of them.”
A vein in his neck pops, “You’re pretty ballsy considering you're handcuffed to a table.”
Outside the room, chaos erupts. Karen’s head diverts to the door at the sound of rushing feet and shouting from several voices. Someone is clearly not taking their arrest well. Karen can sympathise.
“Sir! You can’t go back there!” A female voice shouts out, clear despite the door and length of hallway blocking Karen’s ears.
“Watch me.” That voice is closer, as if it’s right outside.
Oh God, she knows that voice.
She loves that voice.
That’s-
The door opens with a twist of the handle and the look of confusion on Earnshaw’s face is a picture when someone who is definitely not a police officer walks through.
Karen’s heart picks up speed at the sight of him, relief floods her system despite the fact she had asked for Foggy.
Matt stands there, face a mask of passiveness, eyes hidden behind his glasses. He is gripping the cane in his hand far too tightly to be passive though but that’s not what gives her pause.
He is wearing his tux.
The tux.
Karen tries to rise at the same time Earnshaw does, only the handcuffs stop her abruptly and force her back into her seat to avoid the ache against her ribs.
Solid black with the crisp white shirt, bow tie a little crooked at his neck and the deep blood red dahlia that Karen picked out for her wedding bouquet attached to his lapel. She had been insistent she didn’t want roses so when she discovered red dahlias represent passion, lasting commitment and resilience she knew it was the only choice for their wedding day. His hair is the perfect balance of groomed and windswept, the familiar stubble she loves neat and dark.
Matt Murdock, marriage edition.
He looks good, better than good honestly and it’s for her. Meanwhile, Karen is sat with busted ribs and sneakers that were once white and are now more like an off-gray colour.
She hopes this doesn’t constitute bad luck. Matt’s blind so she’s hoping there is a loophole there.
“We’re in the middle of an interrogation!” Earnshaw bites out, dismissing Matt the minute he notices the cane.
“And I’m ending it.” Matt replies smoothly, “I’m Matthew Murdock, Miss Page’s attorney. I need a private moment alone with my client before this goes any further.”
Oh she is going to kill Foggy.
Did he even wait five minutes after Brett called to spill his guts to Matt?
Earnshaw splutters for a moment, clearly not expecting her lawyer to arrive considering she wasn’t given a phone call. Thank you, Brett. He seems to process it slowly, eyeing Matt up and down.
“You always dress up for your clients?” He asks glibly.
Matt’s smile is devilish, “I had a prior engagement.”
If she couldn’t cut the tension in the room with a knife, she would have snorted. His choice of words definitely meant for her as much as Earnshaw.
The detective looks over at her then back at Matt like she has performed a magic trick to bring him here before reaching the very smart conclusion that he can’t refuse.
“You can have five minutes, then we’re recommencing our interview.” He growls in Matt’s direction but Matt’s gaze is on her.
“Take the handcuffs off.”
Earnshaw pauses, “I wouldn’t advise that, she’s dangerous.”
Matt’s lips quirk upwards, “Is she now?”
“She resisted arrest.”
Karen bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from speaking out, she knows it won’t help and she does really want the handcuffs off.
“For trespassing.” Matt comments, “I have the report. Tell me, do you normally handcuff everyone you arrest for trespassing or are you scared of Miss Page’s ability to kick your ass? Off the record.”
Earnshaw is bright red now, all that’s missing is the steam coming out of his ears like an old-timey cartoon. Matt is as calm and poised as ever, even in the tux. Karen is watching the back and forth between them fighting to keep the smile off her face. Damn, her soon to be husband is hot. She has an overwhelming urge to make out with him like a teenager at her prom.
“I am not…”
“Take the handcuffs off her and leave.” Matt’s words are an order.
The metal clinks against the bar on the table as he does it, little key slotting into the lock around her wrists until they are free. Karen rubs the red ring around her wrist softly, cradling her left hand to her chest as she glowers at Earnshaw.
Neither she or Matt move until he is gone, sparing Matt a glare of his own as he passes.
A second after the door shuts, she is on her feet for the first time in hours, feeling a little shaky as blood flows back to her legs.
“Okay, before you say anything I know this isn’t ideal and I really wasn’t planning on our day starting like this and I know I should have called you but it’s bad luck so I was trying to stick to tradition…”
Matt crosses the distance between them in a breath, his lips landing on hers without any precision. Karen stumbles in surprise, quickly righting herself with Matt’s help to return the kiss eagerly.
“Are you okay?” He asks softly when they part, one hand delicately touching the red mark left by her handcuffs.
She nods, “I’m okay.”
“You couldn’t take a day off?” He is smiling as he says it, no hint of anger in his tone.
Karen looks down at his hand on her skin, the fresh bruises on his knuckles that weren’t there the last time she saw him, “Neither could you.”
He looks a little sheepish at that but gives her a soft smile as he props his cane against the wall so he can check her other wrist.
Karen sighs gently, “Oh God Matt, the ceremony.”
“We have time.” He replies quickly, dipping his head to brush a kiss against her wrist, “Foggy is heading there now to stall. He’s going to make a detour to our place to grab everything you need.”
All she wants to do is slump into him, let him hold her and promise her this is all going to be fine. Karen is exhausted. But she doesn’t because she will not give Earnshaw the satisfaction of knowing he has a way to break her down.
Matt seems to realise the same thing, one more chastise kiss to her temple before he pulls back, “Is that my hoodie?”
“One crime at a time, please.”
“Tell me what happened?” He asks, pulling the chair back from the table for her to sit.
Karen does gingerly, one hand against her ribs to keep from gasping out at the hot, fiery pain lancing through her side. But Matt notices it, of course he does.
“Your ribs.” He is crouching next to her now, one hand hovering over her side without touching her. She can see his eyes over the top of his glasses, the worry in them he hides behind red lenses.
“I was resisting arrest apparently.”
His head tilts to the side in a way she knows means he is focusing on her injury, listening to the shift of bone and muscle and skin, “Bruised, no fractures.”
“Means you have to go easy on me tonight, Mr Murdock.” She offers cheekily, feels victory at the shock in his face.
“What actually happened?”
She tells him, filling in the blanks as quickly as she can, “It’s Fisk. The name on the pallets that were being delivered were an alias. Snow. But the company tracks back to him, they might as well have put Kingpin on the side of the building.”
“And Earnshaw was just waiting for you?”
Karen nods, “Like he knew. I know it sounds crazy, Matt. Brett said he moved here from Ohio, wants to prove himself in New York but I…”
“Ohio?” Matt says with a furrowed brow, “He hides his accent well but he drops it on the harsh letters. Rs and Ms. It’s not an Ohio accent, Karen. New Jersey would be my best guess.”
She frowns, her mind flicking through all the information she has to pull the story together, “But if he lied about why he is here…”
“He’s a plant for Fisk.” Matt finishes, pushing himself up into standing to wipe a hand over his jaw, “Christ.”
Karen stays seated, mainly because she doesn’t want to anger her ribs by standing again, “If Fisk knows we’re onto him then we’re screwed.”
“I know.”
“Okay so we need to accelerate our time scale. I’ll call Jess and then we…”
“No.”
She blinks, “No?”
“I mean tomorrow we can do all of that.” Matt corrects, “Today we get married.”
Karen’s spine goes warm, “Yeah?”
“What, you think a barely legal arrest and a threat from Fisk is going to stop me from marrying you?” He grins, “Surely I’ve taught you to have a little more faith than that?”
“I have to admit I’m liking Husband Matt very much right now.”
“I’m not your husband yet.” He points out, the rough edge to his voice tells her how much he likes the title.
“So, get me out of here and we can fix it?”
He laughs, a small thing between them that makes Karen’s heart soar.
Oh yeah, she really likes Husband Matt.
“I missed you last night.” He admits, grabbing his cane off the wall where he left it.
Karen beams, “How was Foggy’s couch?”
“Lumpy.” Matt replies, “How was our bed?”
“Lonely.”
The air between them grows charged. Heated in that way it always goes before what Karen has come to describe as earth shattering sex.
Except they are in an interrogation room and Earnshaw is walking back in, the equivalent of ice cold water over a fire.
Karen glares at him again. Matt fixes his suit jacket.
“Time’s up.” Earnshaw declares, leaning his hands against the back of the opposite chair to glance back and forth between the two, “So, you’re her lawyer and her fiancé? Does that get messy?”
Clearly someone was using their five minutes to google Matthew Murdock.
Matt smirks, “Only in the best ways.”
“Look Mr Murdock, the bottom line is she committed a crime. The law is the law…”
“And nowhere in the law does it mention the right to police brutality.” Matt cuts him off in a way that is far too hot for Karen not to notice.
“It was necessary force. She was resisting arrest.”
“Necessary force?” Matt scoffs, “She’s about a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet and you know it.”
Oh Matt is being a menace today. She feels sorry for Earnshaw because this Matt is the one she sees in court, the lawyer who interrogates on the witness stand like it’s in his blood.
Karen wants to grab some popcorn and kick her feet up, let Matt masterfully handle this because honestly, he was born for it. Daredevil is hot, but when he fires up his legal brain and argues a defense with this kind of passion it has her in some kind of chokehold.
“Are you suggesting I detained her unlawfully?” Earnshaw asks, anger lacing every word.
Matt’s grip on his cane tightens, “I’m stating it. I may be blind Detective Earnshaw but last I checked, my client was the only one with bruises. Now you can keep her for the maximum forty-eight hours while you struggle to find something that will stick better than a trespassing charge where my client happened to accidentally walk across the wrong bit of land which will result in me making your life a living hell with an assault charge or you can admit this isn’t your day, feedback to your boss you failed, but save some dignity in your day job. Your choice.”
Earnshaw has gone from red to purple. She is almost worried he is going to have a stroke. What’s more, he leaves without a word, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that makes the frame rattle in its hinges. The anger follows him out the room like a storm cloud, the ache along her side the only thing negative thing she feels.
“What’s happening?” She asks because honestly she has no idea.
Matt is already listening to the sounds beyond the room, “I imagine he is calling Fisk with an update. But he knows he can’t hold you, especially not if it results in him losing his job. He’d be no good to Fisk if he isn’t on the force.”
“Have I told you today how much I love you?” She asks, her smile making her cheeks ache.
He tilts his head in her direction, “You didn’t have to. Your body is a dead giveaway on how much you enjoyed that.”
She doesn’t even blush, “Just how long have you been practicing law, Mr Murdock?”
Matt smiles, remembering, “Longer than seven hours, Miss Page.” His head whips towards the door, “Brett is coming.”
A few moments later Brett appears in the doorway despite the fact the last time Karen saw him, he was meant to be clocking off shift. His mouth is a grim line, the badge on his belt shines in the light.
“He’s releasing her.”
Karen’s heart whoops wildly as she gets to her feet, feels Matt’s hand on her back for support, “But?”
“He is pissed.” Brett tells them, “Whatever happens next, it’s not going to be pretty.”
“He’s on Fisk’s payroll.” Matt replies.
“City is full of dirty cops, Murdock. Get me some proof, I’ll do what I can.”
Matt nods, “So, we can go?”
Brett looks down at his watch, “You better if you’re going to make the ceremony. I’ll meet you around the back, I borrowed a cruiser.”
Karen glances at him, “Like a police escort?”
“Gotta kick off the Murdock-Page wedding in style right?” He shrugs but the smile on his face tells her this is about more than saving their wedding.
“You’re a good man, Brett.” Matt says, moving towards him to clap him on the back.
Brett shrugs it off, “Just get Foggy to stop with the cigars for my mom and we’ll call it even.”
It’s a deal Karen is happy to make as Matt extends his hand towards her. She moves, slipping her fingers against his as he taps his cane against the floor to guide them towards the front of the precinct.
Earnshaw is standing behind the desk on their way out, eyes narrowing on Karen like an eagle with a mouse caught in their line of sight.
She glares right back.
Matt guides her towards the exit, the sky gray and moody beyond the doors.
“With all due respect Mr Murdock, you might want to revalue your choices.” Earnshaw’s voice stops them both cold. “She’s trouble.”
Oh Karen is going to punch him.
Matt turns with a sinful grin, “With all due respect to you Detective Earnshaw, I know and it only makes me want to marry her more.”
Yeah, she is insanely in love with this man.
The anger evaporates from her body as quickly as it arrives, her heart wild in her chest in a way she knows Matt can hear.
He pushes the door open, holding it for Karen to get her first taste of air in hours and follows her out before Earnshaw can earn himself anymore violence.
She is immediately soaked with rain.
“Was it meant to rain today?” She asks, holding her hand out as water batters her palm.
Shivering she turns back to her soon-to-be-husband, his gaze on her as her palm collects more rainwater. Little harsh droplets hitting her wrist below his hoodie. He shifts towards her, more rain falling over his hair as he dips his chin, "I don't mind the rain."
The ache of familiarity makes her feel like a flower straining against the sun, "Even today?"
"Do you still want to marry me?" The words are softly spoken, a little tentative, a little fragile. A droplet of rain rolls down his nose and Karen wipes it away with the side of her hand.
"Yes." She answers immediately, "Still want to marry me? Bruised ribs, smelling like a police station?"
His smile is electric, "Karen Page, I would marry you smelling like garbage. I'd marry you if I was bloody and we were only guaranteed one day together. I'd marry you right here if I had to. In the rain, in front of the precinct, on the damn street. As long as I get to marry you."
Her heart beats faster, "Sounds like a date, Mr Murdock."
Matt pulls her hood up over her head, “Then let’s make a run for it, Miss Page.”
Karen waits for him to fold up his cane before taking his free hand in hers, allows hers one little squeeze before she takes the lead, guiding Matt around the back of the precinct at a jog, all she can manage with the pain in her side.
They slip into Brett’s waiting cruiser in a tangle of limbs and damp clothes. Karen brushes water droplets off the shoulders of Matt’s suit jacket as he fumbles for the seatbelt.
“Rain is a bad omen, right?” Brett asks from the front seat, window wipers swishing frantically across the windshield.
Biting her lip she looks out at the gray sky and the water that hits her window as Brett pulls away from the curb.
“Not for us.” Matt replies, reaching for her hand again.
Her eyes find his face, the small smile there despite the weather and her bruised ribs and the fact Fisk knows they are onto him.
She finds herself smiling too, “Rain is kind of our thing.”
Because Matt first kissed her in the rain. Their first date was in the rain. The first time Karen told Matt she loved him, it was raining.
So it’s fitting that they have rain on their wedding day.
Brett shakes his head as he pulls onto the main road, “How does Foggy put up with you two?” He mutters more to himself than to them and Karen doesn’t reply, because she is on her way to marry the love of her life and that’s all she wants to think about right now.
It’s only as they are approaching the church that Karen realises how little time they have, the clock built into the dashboard of Brett’s car glaring at her.
“Shit, my dress.” She utters as Brett takes a left to avoid the section downtown which always becomes a gridlock during lunch.
“Foggy went to get it.” Matt replies, “We’ll sneak in through the priest entrance around back so no one will see you before you change.”
“That thing has like a hundred buttons at the back.”
“I’ll help.”
Brett beeps his horn as he turns another corner, the spires of the church coming into view. Somewhere inside their friends and family are waiting for a wedding to start. Karen feels a little nervous.
Matt grabs her hand, “I need to check on your ribs anyway.”
“You can check them after.”
He drops it, but doesn’t drop her hand as they pull up to the church in a parking space Karen isn’t sure Father Lantom would approve of but promises she’ll remind Matt to offer a prayer on Brett’s behalf.
They leave Brett there, letting him go through the front entrance to find his seat with the other guests. Matt tells him to get word to Foggy before guiding Karen around the back in the light drizzle of rain that clings to his glasses.
When they make it to one of the side rooms Karen sees Foggy did deliver, her garment bag is hanging up against the wall along with the bag of make-up and supplies she put next to it. She immediately goes over, checks the side pocket to feel crisp paper there. Her vows.
Bless Foggy Nelson.
“We have to hurry.” Matt tells her softly, “Foggy is currently monologuing about the definition of love.”
Karen winces, “Oh Foggy.”
Beyond their room, she can hear the rumble of his voice. Not clearly enough to make out what he is saying but enough to know he is probably panicking. But stalling, for them. Their self proclaimed double best man.
She unzips the garment bag first, revealing layers of white that Matt can’t see but sends a thrill through her. Her dress. Karen has never been one of those women to get giddy about the idea of trying on several dresses to find the one. She didn’t grow up planning her wedding, she grew up learning the books at the diner and grieving her mom who would have loved Matt. But when she tried this dress on, she just knew it was hers.
Getting undressed is harder, her ribs tugging awkwardly as she does but she tells Matt she can manage because they have already broken enough traditions and even if he is blind, Karen knows the second he helps with the buttons he will be able to start putting together a picture of her dress.
She swaps out her underwear from the bag Foggy brought, slipping on white lace she brought especially. Matt smiles a little at the snap of the bra strap on her shoulder as if he knows but busied himself with cleaning his glasses to give her the privacy she wanted.
The dress is heavy, sleek and form-fitting in thick white silk. She wriggles into it from the bottom, slipping her arms through the sleeves as she goes. It fits like a glove, the square neckline flush against her skin. The sleeves are long, see-through chiffon that end in silk cuffs at her wrists. Today, Karen is thankful for that decision because it hides the raw skin from the handcuffs, making her feel more elegant than someone who spent most the night in an interrogation room.
When she is ready, she turns her back to Matt, slipping her hair over one shoulder to give him better access, “Buttons, please?”
“Am I about to step on a train?”
“No train.” She says, “But hands to the buttons only. No sneak peeks.”
His steps echo across the stone floor of the room, his presence a warmth at her back as his fingers reach out. He runs them up and down, getting a feel for the amount of buttons that run the length of her spine.
“You weren’t kidding.” He laughs, finding the first one and getting to work, “Are zips not a thing anymore?”
Karen bites her lip to hide her smile, “Just wanted to give you a challenge.”
Matt works nimbly, the occasional brush of his knuckle against her spine as he slips each button through the eyelet it pairs with. Karen tries to breathe slowly, marveling at the way the slightest touch of Matt’s hands on her skin can reduce her to this giddy excitement.
“I’m going to enjoy taking this off far more than I am putting it on you.” He tells her, breath ghosting the back of her shoulders.
When he is done, his lips find the back of her neck, then the side of it, then her shoulder.
Karen hums, “Matt, we don’t have time to…”
“I can be quick.” As if to demonstrate his point he presses against her. A wall of hard heat at her back, one hand sliding around her good ribs, “I like this style a lot.”
She spins in his arms, lifting his hands to her face to keep them from wandering about her dress and discovering all her secrets. She still needs some surprises for later and Matt is far too good with his heightened senses.
Karen kisses him, a distraction technique she doesn’t feel guilty about as Matt tucks damp hair behind her ear. She still needs to do something about that.
“Marry me first.” She orders with a smile, hands straightening his bow tie.
Matt huffs, beaming, “If you insist.”
That’s when Foggy bursts in, sweaty and flushed. He takes the space of a blink to see Matt and Karen, standing intimately closely with matching smiles and she knows they are in trouble.
“Are you kidding me?” Foggy hisses, closing the door behind him, “You know the consummation happens after the wedding, right?”
Matt laughs, letting his hands slip from her face as Karen releases him, rummaging in her bag for shoes.
“We’re coming, Foggy.” Matt promises, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“And you!” Foggy is talking to her now as Karen slips her feet into the white heels, “Wow, you look stunning. Like so stunning I lost my train of thought… No, wait. I’m angry. Right. Arrested? Seriously?”
“I solved the case.” Karen points out, “So I’m not entirely sorry.”
“You know what?” Foggy beams, “You two are as bad as each other.”
Karen offers him an award-winning smile as she goes back to her bag, she can do a quick messy bun she thinks, the damp strands from the rain too ridiculous to leave down like she’s some sort of runaway bride. She spots her bouquet of red dahlias on the side table waiting for her, that could definitely work.
“Okay Matt, let’s get you to the aisle.”
Her fingers find her vows again, the crisp edge of the paper. The words she had been struggling to write because everything felt too important and she didn’t want them to go on forever. Everything she wanted to say to Matt today.
“Hold on, Foggy, can I keep him for a second?” She is pulling the vows out of the compartment in her bag, an idea forming in her mind.
It had been her idea to write their own vows, wanting to make them personal for Matt and now, in the minutes before their wedding they almost feel too personal. They are meant for the man who got her out of an arrest charge and wanted to marry her anyway. A man who has changed to be better for her and has made her better in return.
“You do realise the ceremony was meant to start like twenty minutes ago, right?” Foggy asks, “I’m pretty sure Jessica is already drinking out there.”
“I’ll be out in a minute, Fog.” Matt replies, eyes on Karen now, “Give me a second.”
She watches Foggy look from Matt to her and back again before sighing, “I’m waiting right outside and if I hear any funny business I’m telling Father Lantom you’re committing a carnal sin on holy ground.”
Matt laughs, “Deal.”
“Karen?” Her eyes snap up to Foggy’s again, “You really do look beautiful.”
“Thank you Foggy.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you down the aisle?”
She smiles, “No, I want to do this one by myself.”
He nods, disappears with his head thrown up to the ceiling in a sigh and Karen waits for the door to close as her hands shake.
Matt notices, “Are you okay?”
Her heels click on stone as she crosses the space to him, “I just… I wrote my vows for you and it hit me. How personal they are, how much of me, of us are in them.”
“I think that’s the point?” Matt asks with a smile, tilting his head to the side in confusion.
“Right.” She breathes out, “Here.”
She holds out the small folded up square of a4 paper in her hands, feeling the roughness of the bumps as it passes from her hands to Matt’s.
He frowns, turning them around and opening the edges until Karen can see understanding on his face. His fingers run over the marks, taking in her words under his skin.
Karen’s heart gets stuck in her throat.
“You wrote your vows in braille?” He asks, shocked and full of emotion.
His hand is still scanning her vows, like he can’t stop, like Matt wants to devour every letter because it came from her.
She twists her engagement ring around her finger, “I hand wrote them to read out at the ceremony but Foggy helped with the software to copy them in braille. I wanted you to have them. I finished them last night, it’s everything I wanted to say to you but I realised I only wanted to say it to you. It feels too personal to give to everyone else. These are yours.”
When Matt looks at her Karen can tell how touched he is, can see the quirk of his mouth as he wrestles with what to say. Her heart is wild in her chest, and suddenly, she is glad she gave them to him here rather than in a room full of people.
The look of pure love on his face is for her.
“No one has ever done anything like this for me before.” He utters, voice soft.
She smiles as tears sting in her eyes, “Happy Wedding Day, Matt.”
He surprises her when he digs into his inner suit pocket, pulling out a slightly more crumpled folded sheet of lined paper and presenting it to her with similar fanfare. Karen laughs when she sees the blue ink, the messy handwriting. She takes the paper eagerly.
“I finished mine this morning, Foggy promised me the handwriting is readable.” Matt stumbles over his words slightly, a rush of nerves she thinks.
“You wrote them?” Karen’s awe is plain as she picks out several words in his handwriting when she unfolds the pages.
It makes her smile when she reads the top line.
Sweetheart,
Karen.
Like this was everything in his heart, raw and unfiltered. Like Matt took all his nerves and fears and hopes and love and put it onto the paper for her to see. Not in braille. Because he wanted Karen to see them. Wanted her to understand his thoughts.
Matt dips his head, “Like you said, they’re yours.”
And it feels like this is how it was meant to be. Her and him. Their love, their journey. Still their own.
“Even if it’s changing the plan last minute?” She asks, knows Foggy is probably getting impatient outside the door but clawing out this moment with Matt amidst the chaos of their day because this is why she loves him.
“The traditional vows are fine. You’re right, some things are too precious to share.”
“I still want to hear you read them though. Later, in private?”
“Ice cream in bed?”
“I knew there was a reason I was marrying you.”
Matt smirks, “According to your vows there are several.”
And Karen can’t resist pressing her forehead against his, stretching this moment out a little longer to ground herself with him. Her nerves dissolve like ice on a warm day and when Matt places a kiss against her forehead, she wants to sprint to the aisle to finally marry him before his God and their friends.
“Happy Wedding Day, Karen.” He whispers softly.
The incessant tapping on the door makes them jump apart, quickly followed by Foggy’s voice of exasperation.
“Come on Lovebirds!” He calls out, “Matt, I will drag you out here if I have to.”
Karen laughs, smoothing his lapel down, “Go before he calls off the wedding on us.”
“I’ll see you soon, okay?” And it melts her heart that she is standing in a wedding dress but he still phrases it as a question like he can’t believe it’s true.
“See you in ten.” She promises.
Matt nods, making his way to the door before Foggy can kick it down but he turns back at the last minute with that soft smile she loves.
“Karen?”
“Yeah?”
“You really are beautiful.”
And this is one of the things she loves about Matt, the precision of his words. She is beautiful. Not she looks beautiful.
“How can you tell?” She smiles, one hand pressing against the flutter of butterflies in her stomach.
Matt opens the door, “I can always tell.”
Then he is gone, leaving her with a warmth spreading through her body and a lightness that makes her wonder if it’s possible to float down the aisle.
Her soon to be husband.
Getting her hair to cooperate is easy enough thanks to the dampness from the rain, she finds what she needs in her bag to quickly make a messy bun, a few curly strands left to frame her face. Water, nature’s stylist. On a whim she pulls a red dahlia out of her bouquet, snapping the stem before threading it into her bun, a pop of red to match his lapel.
By the time the music starts to play as her signal to get into position, Karen feels like a bride. Her white dress, her fresh face with a little bit of make-up hasty applied, a red bouquet in her hands.
Showtime.
When the music changes, she starts her journey down the aisle. Matt is waiting for her, Foggy at his side and despite the fact the walk feels lonely, she is glad she chose to do it alone. She met Matt when she had nothing left. Him and Foggy gave her a home when she thought she would never have one again. The walk feels like going home, everything important at the end of the aisle.
It’s a challenge to step her steps slow, measured, when Matt looks like a dream waiting for her and Foggy is beaming so wide Karen thinks he might start crying.
The eyes on her aren’t daunting, they are joyful.
They decided to keep the wedding small, neither her or Matt having much in the way of a family in the traditional sense. Karen sees Ellison, a tissue passed from his wife to him so he can dab at his face. She sees Jessica and Luke, the baby girl between them in a pink dress as she twirls a dahlia in front of her like a wand. Karen smiles, knows Matt must have given it to her to play with whilst waiting. Danny and Colleen are next to them. Danny isn’t even trying to hide his tears, his face scrunched up when he catches Karen’s eye.
Frank is a surprise, Karen wasn’t even sure he got her invite let alone whether he would show up. He lingers at the back of the pew, wearing a suit with no tie and the blonde girl at his side. Amy. Karen is glad to see them together, glad Frank has someone with him. He nods when she passes him, no smile but a sign of something that feels like approval.
Karen keeps moving, seeing another figure she wasn’t expecting as she gets closer.
Matt’s mother.
Maggie lingers by the arch that leads down to the basement, half hidden by shadow like she doesn’t want to be seen. Her eyes meet Karen’s though and she presses fingers to her lips before pressing them over her heart like a blessing. Karen smiles in return, glad she is here to see this even if her relationship with Matt is still so fractured and complicated.
When her gaze finds Matt again she can see a smirk on his lips now, gaze locked on the way the silk fabric of her dress rustles against her leg as it peeks out from the thigh high slit with each step. She wondered if he would notice, but of course he did because Matt notices everything. Karen watches his face go blank for a second, like he short-circuits at the realisation, then his grin grows and she can see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes at the edge of his glasses.
At the end of the aisle, Matt takes her hand. Foggy takes the bouquet, setting it out the way for her as they stand before Father Lantom who begins. Matt’s hands are rough and warm against hers, an anchor as the words of marriage and God wash over her.
He looks beautiful here, framed by the stained glass window behind him in reds and blues. He is confident in reciting the vows from the traditional ceremony, giving her the confidence to do the same.
Matt slides the silver ring into her finger, a plain band to match her engagement ring.
Karen gives him a matching one, letting it sit below scabbed knuckles because she is marrying a lover and a fighter and wouldn’t change a thing.
“I do.” Matt’s voice is strong, it carries through the church in a way that makes her shiver.
“I do.” Karen’s voice is soft but sure, lets the word wash over her, over him, with a smile.
“Matthew?” Father Lantom is grinning as they finish, “You may kiss your wife.”
And Matt does.
His lips find hers as Karen throws her arms around his neck, startled when Matt dips her a little for the crowd and Foggy cheers until he brings her back up again.
The walk back up the aisle is not lonely at all. Matt’s hand in hers, his smile as wide as hers and all Karen can think is one simple fact.
Husband.
She likes the sound of it.
/
The reception is a small affair they hold on the rooftop of their apartment building, as close to including Daredevil as she could get and looking at Matt now, serene with the open air and the hum of the city, she knows it was the best choice.
The rain had stopped and she has Foggy to thank for the way their reception turned out because even she didn’t think it would look this good. Fairy lights have been strung up in every direction, a soft golden glow on the rooftop that makes her feel like she is at the heart of the city. There is a bar at one end, nothing fancy but holds enough alcohol that even Jessica smiles at the sight of it.
Matt doesn’t let her leave his side, one hand on her back or laced with hers as they greet their friends, avoid the question of why they were late and accept congratulations with wide smiles.
Then when the music starts playing, the song Matt had chosen for their first dance Karen goes willingly, letting him lead her into the middle of the roof and into his arms.
The evening is turning to dusk, dark blue creeping into the sky but Karen doesn’t feel cold in Matt’s arms, she feels seen. They fall into it easily, moving in a small circle as Karen rests her chin against his shoulder, catching sight of Luke dancing with Dani in his arms from the corner of her eye.
Matt holds her tighter.
“I feel like I can’t quite believe this is real.” He tells her, voice soft and quiet against her ear.
Karen pulls back to catch a glimpse of his face, “It’s real, Matt.”
“Wife.” His grin threatens to make her weak in the knees.
“Husband.” The fact she is so wrapped up in him means she feels his shiver rather than sees it.
Matt hums, “I like that.”
“I can tell.”
She likes it as well, wants to say it to him when he is coming undone in her arms, under her lips. God, can they sneak out of their own wedding? Because Karen is about ready to jump him and preferably with a few less clothes than he is currently wearing.
He smiles again, he can’t seem to stop and she treasures that. The ease of him, the love in him. He once told Karen he didn’t know whether he could love, not probably, healthily, when his whole life has been one fight after another. She had taken those bruised hands, brought them to her own face and told him he was already doing it.
Now, all Karen feels is love.
It’s in the way he holds her, firm and close. The way he smiles, pure and genuine that crinkles his eyes in the way that makes her weak at the knees. It’s in the way he came for her today at the precinct, the way he refused to let anything stop him from marrying her.
Karen knows a lot about love. Or she knows a lot about how Matt Murdock loves. With his whole heart and soul. Even now, waiting for something to tear this moment from him, to remind him he isn’t good enough.
But he is.
“Your mom was there.” She tells him, wrapping both arms around his neck to press their foreheads together. It centers him, she learnt that early on.
“I know.” He replies, “I invited her. Last minute on my way home last night. I wasn’t sure if she would come…”
“Of course she came.”
“I think she was talking to my dad at the end. Muttering under her breath about how well he did.” Matt swallows, “It was nice to have her there.”
Karen kisses him, a simple press of her lips against his, “It was.”
“Karen?” He asks suddenly, turning them in a lazy circle. She feels his hands at her waist, having slipped down slightly to the top of her skirt.
She smiles, “Yes, Matt?”
He is pulling back a little now, fingers of his left hand finding the indents in the silk, a custom addition to the dress she insisted on even though it cost far more than her budget allowed.
“Is there braille on your dress?”
“You tell me.”
His thumb brushes over the silk, finds the start of the lettering that sits just at the top of her skirt by her waist, a few inches long, hidden to anyone but her husband.
Touch is his love language, Karen wanted him to have the reminder of her love for him as plain as possible.
Matt’s breath seems to catch, his forehead moving to press against her shoulder as he laughs, “You are full of surprises today, Miss Page.”
Karen can feel his thumb running over the words she hid there again and again.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
“It’s Murdock now actually.” She teases.
Matt’s head shoots back up again, “We both know you’re keeping your last name so it’s still Page.”
“I am.” She concedes, “But I’ll let you use Murdock on special occasions.”
His smile beams, “Such as?”
“When we’re naked.”
And just like that she floors him, can see the pause as he processes the sentence, the shift in him as he pulls her tighter to him.
“Don’t tempt me.” He warns, “Any other surprises?”
Karen laughs, “I think you noticed the slit in my dress at the church.”
Matt dips his head lower, breath fanning out over her skin, “You definitely could have warned me about that one. Impure thoughts in a church seem to be a thing for me today.”
“Foggy might have noticed.”
“How far does it go up?”
The air shifts around them, warmer like they are in a bubble and Karen can’t resist sneaking a kiss against his stubbled jaw as she answers, “Mid thigh.”
Her eyes scan the crowd quickly. Frank and Amy are dancing now, she has never seen him look so… peaceful. Still. Meanwhile Danny is twirling Coleen in a series of artful spins that are making her laugh. Foggy is dancing with Jessica, a sight she wishes she could describe to Matt because they look hilarious with Jess’s scowl and Foggy’s light chatter. How he managed to talk her into that, Karen will never know.
“Jesus Karen.” Matt utters, holding her tighter again like he is trying to stop himself from investigating the slit, “I need to make love to you in this dress the second we’re alone.”
Something inside her stirs, “I thought you were looking forward to taking it off?”
This Matt is her favourite, teasing and light and completely hers.
“Afterwards.” He agrees, “Once I check on your ribs.”
“Killing the mood, Matt.”
He smirks, “You got arrested on your wedding day, Miss Page, not me.”
She scoffs playfully, “You proposed to me with a stab wound.”
“A light stab wound.” He corrects, “But clearly we are well suited.”
“We are.”
“I love you.” He tells her and it makes her shiver. The absolute certainty in his voice, the utter awe whenever he says it.
“I love you too, Matt.”
They last another ten minutes - which Karen thinks is actually impressive - before Matt is taking her hand and slipping out the door to be alone with her.
Karen hides her laughter into his shoulder as they go, knowing Foggy will be on the warpath at them for ditching but right now, all she wants is Matt’s hands on her.
It seems her husband is only too happy to deliver.