Archive of Our Own

“So...do you think you’ll want a plus-one for the wedding?”

Foggy’s question made Karen pause with the cherry she had pulled from her Manhattan halfway to her mouth.

“Do you want to know for financial reasons, or is this just a roundabout way of asking if I’m seeing someone?” she asked before putting the little bomb of sweetness on her tongue.

“It’s a roundabout way of asking if you're planning to spend the evening with someone who’s getting his own invitation.”

Karen thought briefly about choking on the cherry to avoid having this conversation. Instead she pulled out the stem and chewed thoughtfully.

“So this is about Matt,” she said after she'd swallowed. She kept her eyes on her bar napkin, using the cherry stem to trace invisible shapes.

“Now, before you ask — no, I haven’t said a word to him about it and I won’t. But Karen, the puppy dog routine is getting over the top.”

“Foggy—“

“No, we’re doing this. I know you’ve seen it. When he brought you that lead in the Kovinsky case last week, I swear he was waiting for you to scratch his ears and call him a good boy.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “OK, yes, I’ve noticed. Matt has been incredibly sweet to me lately. But...”

“But you’re over it?” Foggy prompted gently when she didn't continue.

Karen huffed out a half-laugh. “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing that you get over. Not completely.” And she was angry at herself for the threat of tears that snuck into her voice as she said it. She swallowed them back hard.

Foggy was waiting patiently for more, his eyes so kind she couldn’t meet them for long. Not if she wanted to keep her composure.

“It’s just...you guys are everything to me," she said finally, "and I love my job and...I don’t want to shoot for the moon and miss, y’know?”

“But—“

“No, Foggy. The chances of missing are too damn high. You know that.”

He sighed. “So that’s your final answer?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

She picked up her glass and downed the last of her drink.

Later, walking home through the sticky summer night, she almost laughed about it. She would have, if her heart wasn’t so heavy. Foggy was so fucking sensible. Of course her words had sounded right to him.

But she was Karen Page, and she’d dive headfirst into risk if it was something she really believed in. She’d take the gamble. She’d choose the moon.

But the moon didn’t want her, not really. The woman Matt wanted was dead. Or maybe she wasn’t — who the hell knew what was possible at this point. Maybe she’d stroll through the door tomorrow. But even if she never did...Well, Karen hadn’t been able to hold onto Matt before, and that was before he knew about Wesley. About Kevin.

It was impossible to believe that he really meant it, no matter how much those puppy dog looks of his got to her. She’d just be asking him to break her heart again.

She sighed, walking faster. Tonight was supposed to be fun — a chance to distract Foggy from the stress of wedding planning while also getting him to spill the latest amusing stories of Marci versus the wedding industrial complex. But then Matt had begged off to Daredevil and Foggy had decided to kick the corpse of her love life.

It was just that kind of night. Karen wondered what would be next.

Down at the docks, Matt perched on a shipping container and waited silently, listening to the sounds of the river. Rumor had it that a large shipment of weapons was due in, and there were any number of bad actors in the city drooling over the chance to get their hands on them.

So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though. There were a few workers around, a stray animal here and there, but nothing suspicious. He’d stay just a little longer to be sure.

A tiny hint of something in the air threaded through his senses until it caught his attention. It was a delicate note of citrus, and it was exactly like the new shampoo that Karen had started using a few weeks ago. He breathed in deeply. That scent was making the whole city into a fresher, more appealing place for him this summer.

Or maybe that was just her.

Matt had tried so hard to bury his feelings for Karen with the rest of him, to leave them behind in the wreckage of Midland Circle. Staying away had seemed better, seemed safer. But then she'd breathed life back into him down in the church crypt and he'd chosen to become fully himself again. Along the way to getting his life back, he’d discovered that it wasn't possible to be Matt Murdock anymore without loving Karen Page.

And it was pretty much killing him.

He knew that he'd blown his chances with her before, and he really shouldn't be trying again. But he couldn't help it. His heart was hers. He would give her anything she wanted, if she would just take it.

But he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he'd been trying to be subtle about it. To just gauge how she reacted. So far, the response was mixed-to-disappointing. He was struggling not to let it get him down too much. Karen was back in his daily life, and that was more than he’d had for a long time. Friendship could be enough for him.

He wouldn't lose her again, no matter what.

He heard what sounded like a bit of glass shattering, and suddenly the odor was much stronger. Not just the citrus now, but the light, layered fragrances of Karen’s lotion and lipstick and laundry detergent. Traces of coffee and gunmetal and her warm, soft skin. It was all there, the cocktail of scents that was unmistakably Karen.

He jumped down from his perch and raced toward her. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Panic punched through his chest, ripped its way down through his stomach. He took a step up and his boots clomped over the plywood floor of an open shipping container. The smell was strongest near the back, but still there were no other obvious signs of life.

He was too late.

No no no no no no no no no—but then he heard footsteps running and three strong heartbeats pumping away outside the metal walls. The workers had converged. He turned around, but it was a lost cause. The doors were already clanging closed and the locking mechanisms engaging.

It didn’t take long to realize no one was inside with him. No Karen — not even Karen’s...he couldn’t bring himself to even think of it. But somehow she’d been here. And now they had her. They had her and he couldn’t follow.

He growled with rage and attacked the doors, but they didn’t give an inch. Not even a fraction of one. He focused, trying to find any weakness in the metal of the container, any place where he could force his way out. Nothing nothing nothing, though he hit the walls and ceiling desperately, fruitlessly. He pulled out his phone and tried to call someone, anyone, but it was just a useless brick. They hadn’t been stupid enough to give him an easy way out. He threw it hard and it slammed against the far wall.

He started to circle again, for what seemed like hours, like years, beating with his hands and kicking with his boots and screaming until his throat was bright with pain. The air quickly grew stale and stuffy; Karen's scent faded but still haunted him. Eventually, he couldn’t keep himself upright anymore. He slumped down in a corner, sliding to the floor, exhausted, his eyes stinging.

He’d lost her.

Karen woke up with a nagging headache.

Maybe she’d had one too many Manhattans. It was too early to be awake, but these days, she was in the habit of stirring in the wee hours to check for Matt's "home safe" text — though he usually found something snarkier to say than that. Foggy had insisted on post-Daredeviling check-ins as part of getting the firm back together.

But this morning, when Karen rolled over in her bed and picked up her phone from the nightstand, there were no new messages.

She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep — maybe it was just too early and he wasn't home yet. But a half an hour later she was still awake, willing the text to come in.

By the time she got to the office, she was bordering on panic. All her calls went directly to voicemail, and Foggy hadn’t heard from Matt separately, either. She kept telling herself that it was totally possible that he’d lost his phone or just forgot — the Devil was human, after all — but the temperature of her worry kept rising and rising.

When she gave in and called St. Agnes, she was told Sister Maggie was away on a diocesan retreat.

Foggy came through the main door as she was hanging up. He leaned into her office and gave her a slight shake of his head.

“Wasn’t there," Foggy said in a choked voice, and Karen's heart dropped into her stomach. She had been glad when Foggy told her he was already on his way over to Matt’s apartment. She didn’t know if she could handle it again — the wild hope and bitter dread she felt every time she approached Matt’s door during those long weeks when she was paying his rent. She didn’t want to go back to the days when 6A was the home of someone missing, presumed dead.

She started to shake, her mind collapsing building after building on Matt’s head. Foggy hugged her.

"We can't do this," he said. "We can't spiral. Not yet."

"He's not home. He's not here. I think I'm entitled to my panic." Karen bit her lip.

She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer to a god she didn't believe in. Don't take him from me. I can’t lose him again. I can't I can't I can't—

Matt startled from his stupor when he heard the screeching sound of the metal doors being unlocked and pulled open. He flinched as the heat of the sun hit him. Humid but fresh air rushed into his stuffy box. His body was stiff all over and he couldn't seem to speak.

"God, we've been looking all over for you," a woman said harshly. "Where the hell's your phone?"

He hadn't heard that voice in a long time, but he'd know it anywhere.

"Jessica?" he managed to croak out. "Jessica, they have Karen."

Jessica came over and helped him to his feet. His hands weren't bleeding anymore, but they ached. All of him ached. He needed water desperately.

"Karen?" she said with confusion. "As in Karen Page of Nelson, Murdock and Page? Karen who I just talked to an hour ago? She's fine."

"No, they had her," Matt murmured. "I smelled her."

"That's so creepy, dude."

"I don't care how creepy it is," he said, as angrily and loudly as he could with his gravelly scrape of a voice. "I just need to get her back."

"And I'm telling you she's not gone," Jessica spit back. "Calm down."

Jessica took her phone from her pocket and made an annoyed noise. She stomped back outside and he heard plastic crunching when she found the jammer. As she re-entered the container, the small space filled with a ringing sound, immediately followed by Karen's voice through the phone's speaker. Matt’s jaw dropped open.

"You found him?" she asked, breathless.

"Karen." Her name spilled out of him on a wave of relief.

"Matt? Oh, thank god. Where the hell are you?"

"Uh...I got…stuck…down by the docks. But—you're OK?"

"No, I've been worried sick. What happened?"

Jessica spoke before he could. "He'll tell you all about it when we get him home."

She tapped to end the call and Matt felt the severed connection physically. He leaned harder against the wall of the container, listening as Jessica snapped pictures of the area with her phone.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Jessica said finally, but her voice trailed off as something seemed to catch her attention. She made her way toward the back wall.

"Oh, hey, I found your phone," she sang out in a faux cheery voice a few seconds later. "And you're definitely gonna need a new one," she added softly. Broken glass tinkled as she picked the phone up.

"I'm putting your mask in my pocket," she said. "No one will look twice at a New Yorker dressed all in black. Now, home. Hydration. And the whole story."

And she led him, more gently than Matt would have thought possible, out into the muggy morning.

Karen made it to Matt’s apartment before he and Jessica did. She sat down on the couch to wait, checking her phone reflexively for any messages. She and Foggy had split up to check the church and a few other more personal haunts while Jessica focused on tracking Daredevil. Now they were all converging on the apartment.

Just a few seconds after sitting down, Karen was back on her feet, pacing. Even though she knew Matt was safe now, her stomach wouldn’t unknot until she was in the same room with him again.

She didn’t have to wait much longer. Jessica opened the door and ushered Matt through. His face was drawn and his hands were a mess of dried blood, but he was alive. The sight of him kicked relief through her so strongly it was violence.

“I think this belongs to you,” Jessica said by way of greeting.

Matt took a few stiff steps down the hallway and Karen finally felt air fill her lungs again. She rushed toward him. “Are you OK?”

His voice was hoarse. “Better...now,” he said meaningfully, putting his hand on her arm.

Jessica moved around them, deeper into the apartment. “I’ll just get you some water,” she said.

Matt pulled Karen in closer and she wrapped her arms around him.

“We got scared when we didn’t hear from you,” she said, pressing her cheek to his, rubbing just a little to feel his stubble prickle into her skin — like a pinch to reassure herself she wasn’t dreaming. She squeezed tighter, hoping she wasn’t hurting him. “Tell me what happened.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Matt said, his voice barely as loud as a whisper. “What’s important is that you’re safe. And now, more than ever, I know how much I—”

“Matty!” Foggy exclaimed as he burst through the door. “Can we make this a group hug?”

And as much as she loved Foggy, and as worried as she knew he was about Matt, it was only with effort that Karen was able to pull back and bring him into their embrace.

"We were so worried about you," Foggy said as the hug ended. "I was going to start checking rooftops, but Karen suggested that Jessica would be way more efficient in that department. Where the hell were you?"

"A shipping container down by the docks," Jessica volunteered, putting a glass of water into Matt's bloody hand. "Sip that, don't gulp. And sit down, you idiot."

Karen felt a twinge of guilt for keeping Matt on his feet. She and Foggy stuck close to Matt's sides as he made his way to the couch.

"He was trapped when I found him," Jessica said, flopping down in one of the chairs across from them. "The container had been closed and locked with him inside, and whoever did it was jamming the cell phone signal."

“What brought you there?” Foggy asked Matt.

“A shipment of weapons came in last night, and the criminals on the receiving end didn’t want His Horniness here getting in the way,” Jessica answered for him again. “That was the lead I got when I was trying to figure out where exactly this brainiac got himself in a jam.”

Matt swallowed a sip of water and smiled sarcastically at Jessica. “I don’t even wear the horns anymore,” he croaked.

“What I haven’t figured out yet is what they used as bait,” Jessica continued. “There wasn’t anything else in there with him, no money or Cuervo or women. Though he was talking about you.” She looked at Karen, who felt heat rush to her face.

“I don’t know how they did it,” Matt said. “There were three men. They just seemed like dock workers. But they made me think they had Karen.” He turned in her direction. “Nothing happened to you last night?”

Karen shook her head. “Foggy got me a little drunk on Manhattans at Josie’s. But that’s all.”

“What was it that made you think Karen was there?” Foggy asked from Matt’s other side, his forehead creasing.

“He said he smelled her,” Jessica said. “Ew.”

“Hey,” Foggy said sharply. “It’s not any yuckier than you looking at me with those naked eyeballs of yours.”

Jessica rolled said eyeballs. “Was it possible they had something of Karen’s? Like, something she wore?”

Matt shook his head. “I can’t explain it, but I’d know the difference.”

Karen felt queasy as she looked at Matt next to her on the couch. She understood now. He’d been trapped, and he’d beaten his hands bloody on the walls and yelled himself hoarse trying to escape, trying to get to her. She wanted to apologize, even though she’d had no clue what was going on. She reminded herself that Matt would have done the same for Foggy or Jessica or some random stranger who needed saving.

She wasn’t sure if that really made her feel better, though.

“Well, I’ll keep looking into it,” Jessica said, standing up. “I can at least start tracking the weapons shipment.”

“Don’t take them down without me,” Matt said gruffly.

Karen could see a spark of tenderness in Jessica’s eyes. “A gust of wind could take you out right now,” Jessica said.

“Jessica,” Matt said darkly.

“All right, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “Though I think my clients will have something to say about it.”

“Speaking of which, how much do we owe you?” Foggy asked.

“First one’s a freebie,” Jessica said. “But don’t get used to it.”

“Thank you,” Matt said seriously.

“Yes—” Karen began to echo, but Jessica cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s not get all mushy. I did a job. I’ll see you later.”

She walked out of the apartment, leaving the three of them sitting silently as Matt sipped more of his water.

“We should get you cleaned up and into bed, buddy,” Foggy said.

And once again, Karen felt a twinge of guilt. She should have suggested that, and she would have. But her brain had just gotten caught on something, on what Matt had said when he was hugging her. Something about her being safe, and then: Now, more than ever, I know how much I—

Matt didn’t take long to recover physically. Some fluids and rest and he was basically back to his usual self, except for his hands, which would heal fast enough. But emotionally, even he recognized that he was a mess.

Karen gently rebuffed his efforts to keep track of her 24/7. But worry chewed away at him, and everything he wanted to say to her got bottled up in his throat until he felt like he was choking whenever she was around.

Somehow, they hadn’t had a moment alone together since what happened down at the docks. He wasn’t sure if it was just because the close call had made Foggy hover more, or if Karen was doing it on purpose. The fear that she was avoiding him kept him from being more direct and just asking her to talk. But he was tying himself in knots and it was affecting his work — he was more anxious, more absent-minded, more prone to distraction.

So when he realized one evening at home that he’d forgotten to get documents from Karen for a filing in the Kovinsky case, he asked her to bring them by his apartment. If he pretended that it was a little more urgent than it actually was, well, he was pretty damn desperate.

“Hey,” she said when he opened the door. She extended her arm and he lifted his hand to accept what he knew would be a manila envelope. “That should be everything.”

He could tell from the bustley way that she moved and breathed that she was just going to turn around and leave as soon as he acknowledged delivery.

“Can you come in for a minute?” he asked.

“Oh, I should—”

“Please.” He could feel her hesitate, but then she took a step toward him.

“OK, yeah, sure,” she said.

“Just for a minute,” he assured her. He led the way inside, hearing the door click as she shut it behind her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m OK.” She came to a stop in his living room and blew out a breath. “What’s up?”

Her heart was pounding, and he knew she must be anticipating what he was about to say, but he didn’t care about being subtle anymore. He was ready to pour his heart out to her, if only she’d listen.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” she said, half-swallowing the word. “Just—”

“OK,” he said. “What happened the other night, when I thought that you were… It's just reminded me that we don't know what's coming next, how much time we have” — her breath hitched — “and I need to tell you—”

“Please don't,” she interrupted, her voice thick. “Don't do this.”

He felt his stomach sink, but he pressed on anyway. “But I need you to know—”

“I know, Matt,” she said quietly. “You...you care about me. And I care about you. And we both care about Foggy. We're a family. And that's as far as it goes.”

Lie lie lie, said her heart.

“That’s not where it stops for me,” he said, emboldened. “Karen—”

“Look, we've done this before. And you made your choice then. I don't want to be the....the consolation prize.”

“It's not like that,” he said, shocked. “I was...trying to do the right thing—”

“And you let a building fall down on top of you. You wanted to die with her instead of live with—” Karen stopped herself, shaking her head.

“She was killed protecting me,” he said painfully. “I had to try whatever I could to save her.”

"So it was just obligation?"

"No—"

"Of course it wasn't. You loved her." Karen held up her hands. "We love who we love. That's just how it works.”

“But, Karen, I—”

“Please.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just let it go, OK?”

“I can't,” Matt said, his voice coming out strangled. “This is different. This is something that could last.”

“It didn't before,” Karen said sadly.

“We were hiding so much. I was afraid—of how you would react.”

She nodded. “I know. Me too. But...but doesn't that mean we're just not good at trusting each other?”

“I trust you.”

His words hung between them. It felt like there was no more air in the room as the seconds ticked by.

“I trust you, too,” she said finally. “With my life. But with my heart?” She gave a barely perceptible shrug, her breathing rich with unshed tears.

Her words cut into him, ripped him to shreds, and he couldn’t speak. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to keep himself together.

"I gotta go,” she said.

There were so many things he still wanted to say, to try to explain, to make her understand, but he couldn’t get them out, and she was already clicking down the hallway. The door shut hard behind her and he flinched — she was closing the door on more than just his apartment. She was closing the door on him. On them. On whatever dreams he had cherished close to his heart over the last several months.

It was over.

Karen didn’t cry. Not while rushing down the stairs from Matt’s apartment, not while walking the long blocks home, not as she unlocked her building’s main door and stopped to pick up her mail.

She could handle this. Nothing was any different than it had been yesterday. All they had done was finally get it out into the open. Matt would probably stop making those puppy dog looks — oh, who was she kidding, he would probably make that kicked-puppy look for a while. She could see it even now. She pushed the image from her mind. It had been almost impossible to hold the line, not to let him say the things she wanted to hear, to watch him hurt, especially after everything he’d just been through for her. But this would be kinder to them both in the end. He couldn’t have what he really wanted, so he thought he wanted her. But he’d get over it, he’d probably be relieved that they hadn’t screwed up their newly rebuilt friendship, and she wouldn’t lose him again. Everything would be fine. This was safer.

She slid the tiny key into her metal mailbox and twisted it open. Inside was a bill, a flyer with coupons, and a thick, dreamy, shimmery envelope in ivory or eggshell or whatever shade of not-quite-white the chicest wedding planners were advising these days.

Embossed on the front in crisp loops of black was: “Ms. Karen Page & Guest.”

Her plus-one. The one she got because she would not be attending Foggy and Marci’s wedding with another person already on the guest list. If she wanted a date, she was supposed to find someone else.

It was over.

She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle a sob, but she couldn’t stop her tears anymore. They dripped right onto the pretty envelope.

Foggy didn't even bother knocking.

The key went into the lock, the doorknob turned, his footsteps echoed down the hallway. Matt rolled over, his back to the door, and pulled the covers tighter.

Foggy paused at Matt’s bedroom door, where he actually did have the courtesy to knock softly. “You decent?”

“No one’s accused me of that lately,” Matt answered.

Foggy made a soft, short, snorty sound and slid the door open wider. “So you called in sick today,” he said. “But you don’t have the sniffles. And you don’t appear to have been shot or stabbed or beaten by ninjas. So either you’re bleeding internally and I need to haul you off to the ER immediately, or what you need is not medical care but distraction. Either way, I’m here.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Fog,” Matt said to the wall. “It’s beneath you.”

“I don’t know, actually. But given the look Karen had on her face all day, like someone kicked her favorite puppy, I can guess. You guys talked, and it went about as well as the Mets are playing right now.”

Matt rolled onto his back. “Worse, if you can believe it.”

“Oh boy,” Foggy said. “Scooch over a little.” Matt did, and the mattress dipped as Foggy sat down. He waited.

“She’s right,” Matt said miserably. “She’s right not to trust me.”

“There’s no right or wrong here,” Foggy said. “I think more than anything, she’s scared.”

“That’s what I’m saying, she’s right to be. Because I hurt people. I hurt them with—with my fists and I hurt them just by being me. It’s who I am.”

“Hey, hey, buddy—”

“You should know.”

Foggy sighed. “OK, I’ve known you for a long time now. And I can speak from a lot of experience here when I say that when things go bad, it’s always because you’re trying to help someone. And Karen’s like that too. She does things that are nuts sometimes because she wants to help so bad. I think she can understand. I think she will.”

Matt scoffed.

“But you’re not going to make her see that by believing the worst of yourself,” Foggy chided. “Nelson, Murdock and Page wouldn’t have happened if Karen didn’t want you in her life. You just need to...stay there for a while.”

Foggy made a good case — he always did — but Matt wasn’t so sure it would be enough this time. He hadn’t understood the way it looked to Karen, like she was always the runner-up. The choice she saw — between Karen and Elektra — between life and death — had never appeared that way to him. He had never believed a life with Karen was truly on the table for him. Not when she didn’t know that he was Daredevil, and certainly not after. He’d hoped at times, he’d wished, he’d even tried to give Daredevil up, but deep down, he’d thought that only Elektra could ever really accept him. And twice he’d thought he was carrying out a divine mission to save her, and his city in the process.

But twice she was taken from him, and after that, he’d lost himself for a while.

And Karen had found him. It was more complicated than that — he owed his thanks to so many — but she had been the one who’d given him the means to pull himself out of the wreckage. Karen had experienced the very worst of him, and not only was she still around, she still cared enough to worry about his opinion of her. He thought back to the way her heart had fluttered during their argument, and he knew. It wasn’t that Karen didn’t love him.

It was that she didn’t want to. And he couldn’t blame her.

Foggy shifted a little, bringing Matt’s attention back to him. “Jessica called today,” Foggy said. “She’s following up a very promising lead tonight. She said she’d leave it up to my naked eyeballs to decide whether you were in good enough shape to pass the message along.”

Matt’s lips quirked. This was actually a bit of good news. He had gone out himself, hunting for his own leads, but the shipping container he had been trapped in was gone, the evidence was scanty, and frankly, he’d been more concerned about ensuring Karen’s safety than about what had happened to him.

He’d go out with Jessica tonight, though. His hands still weren’t in great shape, but that didn’t matter.

He wanted it to hurt.

For Karen, the next couple of weeks passed in a slow, hot blur.

It wasn’t fair, for the weather to be like this. Because everything — the fritziness of the air conditioning, the constant struggles with the accounting software, the fact that a few clients were paying in foodstuffs again — it was all redolent of the golden age of Nelson & Murdock. And she really didn’t need to be reminded of that right now.

That period from St. Patrick’s Day — when she’d spent hours crammed against Matt’s side in a tiny booth in a crowded bar and he put his arm around her for that photo she loved so much — to their one amazing date and those unforgettable kisses — had been the happiest she’d been in years. She’d been absolutely terrified at times, too, of course, her dreams filled with Wesley and Fisk and Kevin. But she was wildly in love and that had a way of making it all seem bearable somehow.

Every day had been a bit of a rush — what would Matt say? how would he look? would there be an excuse to touch him? — as they took baby steps closer to each other. Unfortunately, in the end, the baby steps had led her right off a cliff.

And now she was asking herself similar questions, but with a sense of dread instead of hope. She worried about what Matt would say, what he thought of her, how sad he looked when he didn’t think she could see him. He’d stayed home for a day after they’d talked, but when he came back to the office, he acted like nothing had ever happened. She could see right through him, but she pretended she couldn’t. They could fake their way back to friendship.

And maybe someday it would even feel right again.

Matt felt like he was slowly suffocating. The air conditioning in the office didn’t work well, and he could never seem to catch his breath. And the way the office smelled — well, it wasn’t pleasant, exactly, but the memories it brought up for him were. Or should have been, if everything wasn’t such a mess, because it was so similar to the way things were before.

Except the citrus of Karen’s shampoo. That was distractingly different. And it made everything worse, because it constantly reminded him that things should be different. They weren’t quite the same people they were before; the secrets they’d been hiding were out in the open. It could be...

And yet his only choice was to get over it.

So he threw himself into work. The surest path to keeping Karen and Foggy in his life was to make their firm a success, so he pushed himself during the day. More cases, more effort in recruiting clients, more admin work. They couldn’t afford to pay anyone else yet, so they’d split the office management duties between them. Matt knew he and Foggy were guilty of letting Karen pick up the slack sometimes because she was so competent at it. Well, no more.

He pushed himself at night, too. He and Jessica managed to track the weapons shipment and prevent most of it from being disbursed, but they were only able to deliver the low-level criminals involved to the police, when clearly some bigger force had been at work. Something sinister was brewing in the neighborhood, and if Matt didn’t know better, he’d swear Fisk was operating in Hell’s Kitchen again. It was all too well-organized. The three “workers” who had trapped him had disappeared, and Matt was no closer to figuring out how they made him think they had Karen.

But even if he couldn’t tie up all the loose ends from that night on the docks, there was plenty to keep Matt busy. The heat meant the whole city was alive with violence.

The Kitchen was burning. He let himself burn with it.

And then, on the hottest day of the summer, Jessica strolled through their door. They were all in the office for once. Karen was picking at a sad desk salad, Matt was just hanging up from a client call, and Foggy was moving their little Nerf basketball hoop to an even more ridiculous location.

“I had this analyzed, just for shits and giggles,” Jessica said when they were all gathered around. She held up a plastic bag.

“It’s a cell phone with a cracked screen and some little pieces of glass,” Foggy said to Matt.

“I didn’t want to say anything in case it was nothing,” Jessica said. “But I noticed those little broken bits didn’t seem to come from your phone. So I sent it all to a friend who does this kind of thing. Took forever. But I think it’s the source of your confusion the other night.”

“What confusion?” Matt said irritably. He looked tired. Karen thought he was burning the candle too low on both ends lately.

“Why you thought you smelled Karen when you didn’t,” Jessica said.

“I did, Jess. My senses don’t get that stuff wrong. I wouldn’t be able to function. I don’t know how, but it was Karen.”

“No, you dipshit. Listen to me. It was something the lab had never seen before — something that I traced back to the assholes at IGH. And it’s trippy stuff. A weird chemical compound that activates the memory centers in your brain.”

“Memory?” Matt was skeptical.

“Yeah. It’s different for each person. It zeroes in on your fondest memory. The smell of whatever it is you want the most of all. So since you’re so into your girlfriend here” — Jessica tilted her head toward Karen and rolled her eyes — “you smelled her.”

“What?” Karen breathed, her head spinning. It sounded like science fiction — but then so much of her life had in the last few years.

“Can they really do that?” Foggy asked. He seemed to be trying to hide a smile.

“You can read the full lab report,” Jessica said, “but it’s exactly the kind of thing they’re capable of.”

Matt was shaking his head. “I heard it. The glass breaking before the smell got stronger,” he said, his voice slow and far away. “And I never...I never heard her heartbeat.”

“That’s because it was all in your mind. The perfect bait. How could you resist what you want most?” Jessica smiled. “I’m pretty sure if I took a big whiff, it would smell like booze. The top-shelf stuff, though, not what I usually drink.”

Karen was shaking now. What Matt wanted most...It could have been anything, anyone, but it wasn’t. What had called to him wasn’t a ghost, wasn’t someone or something from his past. It was just her. The realization made her lift her eyes and seek out his face. Pain was written plainly across it. Oh, god, what was he thinking? She had to look away.

“So, any more questions, Mr. My Nose Is Never Wrong?” Jessica asked.

But in the space of a few seconds, Matt had somehow already left the room. They all looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. Karen felt something powerful clawing through her chest, propelling her forward.

“Uh...excuse me,” she mumbled.

She could hear Jessica ask, “What the hell did I do?” before the door closed behind her. Karen ran down the stairs as quickly as she could.

Matt was fast but he wasn’t wearing his mask, so he had to make some concessions to his blindness that slowed him down. Karen saw him when she got down to the street and she yelled after him, not even caring that she looked ridiculous. He would probably have heard her even if she whispered but she couldn’t stop herself. She yelled his name again and this time he stopped.

She was already moving toward him, so by the time he turned around, she was close enough to launch herself at him, knowing he’d catch her — just as he had so many times before.

She squeezed herself tight against him, her face in his neck, her arms around his shoulders. He squeezed back, the hand not holding his cane clutching at her back. After a long moment she pulled away to look at his face. He was surprised and smiling.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” she said, as she brought one hand to his face.

And, oh, it was sweet and intoxicating and what she’d always wanted. A kiss without any reason to hold back.

But there was one more thing she had to say. She pulled away. “Matt, I’m sorry.”

“Believe me,” he teased, “that was nothing to apologize for. In fact, I think it’s worth repeating.”

She smiled against his lips as he kissed her again.

“Not that,” she said, when she could tear herself away long enough to speak. “I’m sorry that I needed this. It feels like cheating. I know you’ve been trying to tell me.”

“Karen,” he said, in a tone that said clearly that it didn’t matter.

“I just...I couldn’t let myself believe that you really wanted this, not after everything...”

“Don’t apologize,” Matt said, his thumb running tenderly over her cheek. “Not when I ruined things before for the same reason. Just please believe me now.”

She nodded, her heart full. "OK."

He smiled, wide and bright. But then his face grew concerned. “We both know what I want. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here kissing you right now if it wasn’t.”

He smirked. “You know, technically you aren’t kissing me right now.”

“Oh,” she said, grinning so hard she thought her face might crack, “my mistake. Let me just correct that.”

And she didn’t stop, not even when she heard Foggy’s voice call down from above, “Get a room, you two!”

There would be plenty of time for that.

(Though it better be soon.

Very soon.)