As the dust settles

Matthew Murdock is confusing. 

Everything about him makes Frank want to know him more and leave him alone. Both at the same time.

He came to Hell's Kitchen for Karen. To search for her. Make sure she was alive. 

(She wasn't. She wasn't and it felt like a punch to the gut. Even when he prepared himself for this. She is dead and there is nothing he could've done about it. )

He didn't expect Murdock to invite him for a drink. Not after nearly having a panic attack after he asked about Karen. 

He stared at the lawyer. Because what the fuck? The lawyer is consciously inviting a murderer for a few drinks?

Even more confusing if you think about how the man himself reacted to his presence. 

He wanted him gone. 

Now he wants a drink. With him. 

He doesn't know what to say. Or even feel. 

Agreeing inside the office feels like sacrilege. Like the ghosts of Karen and Murdock's friends are judging his actions. But rejecting feels like the worst sin.

This office feels like a grave. A grave for the man that just walked out of the office. 

What the hell is he supposed to do?

Murdock walks out. Slowly. As if measuring his reaction. This man is even more unpredictable than Red. 

He walks out and reaches Murdock. He isn't sure if this is what he wants. Hell, he doesn't even know why he is doing this.  

"You'll have to guide me. Don't know many places around here."

He is digging his own grave. 

Murdock smiles at him. It's soft and sad. There's no teeth or snarl. 

He already dug his own grave. 

He offers his elbow to the man.

"My elbow is just to your right. I've heard it's more comfortable this way."

Murdock. Or Matthew. Grabs him by the elbow. The grip is strong. Like an anchor between both of them. 

They walk in silence. With Matthew guiding them through New York. Probably by sheer memory at this point.

They reach Josie's. It looks fine. Probably a place Matthew frequented if the way he moves with confidence around the place means something. 

(He doesn't mention how Mathew avoids the pool table. Or the tables close to the windows. )

They sit at a table close to the wall and the bar. Comfortable and practical. Both of them order beer. Not like Frank would trust this place with anything else. 

Cue the unavoidable silence. It isn't uncomfortable. There's just nothing to say. 

So they enjoy their drinks. Much like Red and him enjoyed their lunch. Thinking, brooding or looking. 

Frank dedicates his time to studying the man in front of him. His jaw is strangely familiar. There is a slight stubble that threatens to grow into a beard. His eyes are hidden by the red glasses. Those same red glasses do not manage to cover deep eye bags. His expression is relaxed. Enjoying his drink. Even though it is some cheap stuff. There are bruises peeking from the neck of his suit. Dark purples and yellows.

He wants to ask. But he feels the man would react similarly to Red. Both of them are eerily similar. Guarded, unpredictable and explosive. 

"This place used to be more crowded."

"Hmm?"

"Especially during this time of the year. You got to see the people of Hell's Kitchen."

Franks hums again. Lawyers can't stay quiet for long. 

"It got unbearable at some moments. The smell. The shouting. Sometimes, Foggy and I would leave early."

"Is the booze any good?"

"Anything other than beer? Nah, wouldn't recommend it."

"Shame. I was considering coming back. Sounds like a hell of a place."

"Yeah it is."

Frank finds himself smiling softly at Matthew. 

"You picky with your drinks?"

"As much as anyone can possibly be. Sensitive tongue and everything. The cheap stuff makes me retch."

"Pretty sensitive huh?"

"Yeah, Foggy used to say I should just make my own booze. Never did it. But I do have my own collection of the good stuff."

"Mind showing me one day?"

Matthew raises an eyebrow at him. 

"Why not. It would be a waste to not share. The collection is a sight to soreeyes."

Matthew has a shit eating grin on his face. Frank wants to punch and laugh it off his face. 

They return to comfortable silence after that. 

Of course. Franks ruins it.

"I am sorry about your partner and Karen."

He knows it means shit. After a loss like that. He knows how close they were. Even with how little he saw. 

"It was unavoidable."

And that is the truth. There is nothing they could do about it; the world chose them to stay alive. There is nothing either of them can do about that.

That doesn't mean they have to be alone. 

"Give me your phone."

Matthew raises an eyebrow. But passes him the phone. 

He types his number. 

"It's saved under Pete."

Matthew nods but the tense lines of his shoulders stay there. 

"Whenever you need something. Anything. Even just another drink. Call. I live nearby."

(Maybe he worries for this man a little too much. Maybe he wishes he doesn't go through it alone. Maybe he wants to accompany Matthew. So that neither of them are alone). 

(Maybe he sees himself reflected on Matthew.)

Matthew smiles and nods. 

"Thanks Pete."

Neither of them talk again. They part ways. Frank leaves Matthew in his office before going home. Matthews words echoing in his head. 

"Please call me Matt. Matthew sounds like you got a stick up your ass."

This man is an asshole. 

He gets home and makes the effort to walk Max before going to sleep. He goes to his bed.

What a fucking day.