The sharp click of the closing door jolted Matt awake. It wasn’t the normal noise that he would hear in the night like the usual creak of old wood settling or the hum of the city outside. No, this was the kind that made his senses flare.
He held still for a moment, listening. The muffled creak of the floorboards outside his bedroom. It wasn’t Peter, He would have heard his son's soft footfalls.
Matt swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coolness of the floor against his bare feet. He silently moved through the apartment, his senses heightened as he made his way toward the source of the noise.
“Hello, Matthew” a voice came from the kitchen.
Matt's shoulders relaxed. “Stick,” he said, relieved it wasn’t an intruder or worse. “What are you doing here?”
Stick reached into the fridge, grabbed a beer, and cracked it open.”
“What? Can I not visit my mentee?”
“In the middle of the night? Sure” Matt replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Stick took a swig of his beer. “Another person is sleeping here.”
‘I know”
“You finally get yourself a girlfriend?” Stick asked, half-jokingly.
Matt chuckled and shook his head “No, no, just my kid”
Stick stopped lowering the bottle to stare at Matt., “A kid! You're kidding me, Matty.”
“His name’s Peter,” Matt said firmly. “And no, I’m not.”
“You do not need a kid,” Stick said, slightly laughing, shaking his head. “It will only hold you back, making you easy to get to.”
Matt’s jaw tightened. “That’s not true. He doesn’t hold me back. If anything…” A small smile tugged at his lips. “He makes me better.”
“Whos is it?” Stick raised an eyebrow. “That one chick from college?”
“Cut the shit, Stick,” Matthew's voice hardened, “why are you here.”
Stick sighed “You’re needed, Matty. The Hand is-”
“No.” Matt’s answer was immediate. “I’m done. Daredevil is dead. I have bigger responsibilities now.” He looked toward the room down the hall.
“What? Your kid?” Stick sneered., setting down his bottle, “You were always soft, but I didn't think you would go this low.”
“I’m not soft,” Matt snapped. “I’m a parent. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
Stick shook his head, ignoring Matthews's comment. “Just a few days, Matty. Can’t… what’s his name… Pietro stay with a friend?”Can’t, what's his name.. Pietro, stay with a friend?” Stick asked, “You do have friends, right?”
“Peter,” Matt corrected. “And I do have friends, but It’s not their job to look after him.”
“A few days, Matty. Then you can play house with little Petey to your heart’s content.” Stick took another swig of his beer, his tone dismissive.
“What happens if I don’t come back, Stick? Who’s going to look after Peter then? You? Are you going to step up and take him in? Are you going to be the one to tell him his father is dead?” He stepped closer, his voice firm.
He remembered the day they told him about his father. That hollow, crushing pain. He’d never let Peter experience that, never.
They were both quiet before Stick started, “And when The Hand comes, Matty, and they will, what are you going to do? Pray they don’t find him first?”
“They won't come here. Why would they?” Matt asked, not wanting an answer.
“They know that Daredevil is connected to me and Electra,” Stick answered. “They might not know who Matt Murdock is, but they will find out. They're not stupid.”
He didn't need this, not at all. Peter didn't need this, the last thing Matthew wanted was his son getting mixed up in his past.
“Goddammit.” Matt paced the floor, anger bubbling. “Goddamn it!” He grabbed the bottle and hurled it against the wall. “I don’t need you bringing your shit into my home!”
Stick listened as Matthew paced, his anger echoing through the room. This was the man they needed, the one who could tip the scales in their favor. Without him, their chances were slim at best.
“Why is The Hand here?” Matt asked, calming down.
Stick’s lips twitched a smirk, satisfied that Matt was starting to consider the fight. “We don’t know yet,” Stick replied, his tone grave. “But whatever it is, Matty, it’s big. And it’s coming for all of us.”
Matt exhaled slowly, processing the weight of it. “Three days. That’s all you get. Then I'm done, for good”
Stick nodded. “Deal Matty. I’ll send you the details.” He paused, grinning slightly. “See you soon, Daredevil.”
“Goodbye Stick”
The click of the door signaled that Stick was gone. Matt let out a breath, God, what had he just agreed to? The faint stench of alchol lingered in the air, pulling his attention to the shards of glass scattered on the floor.
Before he could move to clean it up, the soft pitter-patter of feet caught his attention. Matt turned, his senses honing in on the small figure in the hallway.
“Peter? What are you doing up, baby?” Matt approached and knelt down to meet his son’s eyes.
Peter clutched his spider plush, Spidey, tightly to his chest. “I heard a bang and talking. I was scared.. Who was that guy?”
“That was just my old… friend. Nothing to worry about.” Matt scooped Peter into his arms and began carrying him back to bed.
Peter frowning. “You didn’t talk to him like a friend…”
“Well, we’re not really good friends,” Matt replied, with a slight laugh
“Oh, okay.” Peter accepts without further question, leaning into his father’s arms.
Matt tucked Peter into bed and sat down next to him, smoothing back the messy hair from his forehead.
“How would you like to stay with Foggy for a few days?” Matt asked gently, his thumb brushing Peter’s temple.
“Foggy?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I love Foggy!”
“I know, Bud, I know.” Matt smiled, “I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Daddy, I love you”
“I love you too.” Matt kissed Peter’s forehead, his chest heavy with the weight of what was to come, before quietly leaving the room.
Matthew walked back to his room, exhaustion settling in. He didn’t realize how tired he was until he could finally lie down on the cool silk sheets. He let his head sink into the pillow, his weight starting to ease.
A voice rang out from his bedside.
“New message from—unsaved number,” his phone announced.
Matt let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t going to let whatever Stick wanted drag him back into that world. Not for Stick. Not for anyone.
He rolled over. Daredevil was dead to him. He had made that choice, and he wasn’t about to fall back into the rabbit hole. That life was over, and he’d made a promise, to Peter, to himself, that he wouldn’t go back.
Before anything else, Matthew Murdock was a father. That was the life he wanted, the life he chose. But he couldn’t ignore the chance of someone hurting his son.
Ugh, what was he going to tell Foggy?