As the dust settles

— New Promise —

Matt promised to let himself be treated by Frank. 

He keeps that promise just like Frank keeps his. 

Sometimes they go out together. Most of the time they just find each other at the end of their patrols. On rare occasions do they see each other mid action. 

Divide and conquer, they say. 

Matt mostly gets bruises or cuts. Gun wounds are rare. Broken bones far in between. Frank helps him anyway. 

He is, most of the time, already waiting for him near his rooftop entrance. When he isn't it means that it's Matt's turn to patch him up. 

Frank's injuries are mostly gun wounds or broken noses. Few cuts. Some burns if he gets in too much trouble. Nothing Matt can't deal with. 

Tonight, Matt is alone. Crime is finally going down to normal levels. Maybe he can avoid making daylight appearances. It is a nuisance and dangerous. Dangerous because public figures are dangerous. Because his failings become important.

He sits on a rooftop. Listening. He has already stopped a few muggings and a kidnapping. But he is high on adrenaline and it has been a long week. 

He hasn't found the fucker who trashed thei- his office. He thinks about it and his jaw tightens with his fists. His muscles tense to the point it pains him. That person is hiding well. But Matt will find them. Even if their scent is gone and he has no visual clues from the intruder. 

He'll make him wish Murdock was just a blind lawyer.

Till then he hits other criminals. He breaks noses, backbones, hands. If he finds a rapist he kicks him in the balls till he can no longer feel anything other than pain. If it was a mugger he would break his hands so that he could not take what is not his. Law would give them a fair trial. But this is Daredevil. This is his justice, the justice of the streets, not the system's.

Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar. 

Father Lantom would be so proud. So so proud to see him return to God. Even if it is in his own violent ways. 

A sound registers. 7 blocks ahead of him. In the docks near Manhattan Valley. Lots of guns. Too many in fact. 

He checks there is nothing happening around him. Just people sleeping or living peacefully. 

The black shirt is perfect in summer. And with autumn just around the corner, he wishes he had a suit. 

(But the old one is tainted with the blood of innocents. The blood of Father Lantom. He can't. He can't. He can't.)

He runs to the docks as soon as the first gun is fired. 

He gets there in record time to find an active gunfight between two gangs. It's deafening. Putting him on high alert but forcing him to withdraw his senses. 

He has to decide whether to intervene or not. From one side, it's good. They'll be out of ammo for when he enters to deal with the remaining ones. He would force them into his area of expertise. By the sounds of it they have horrible aim, most people alive but rapidly bleeding. 

He kneels on the rooftop ready to wait when he hears a sob.

There are civilians here. 

He jumps and kicks a guy in the face. The guy fell, immediately knocked out.

Only one person notices the missing firepower and aims towards him, their heartbeat racing. The metal is warm and ready to fire. He takes cover just as the bullet flies right past his ear. He takes one of his Billy Clubs and aims. The guy falls knocked out too. 

The gangs start to notice their attention shifting. But their barrels are nearly empty.

So without much thought Daredevil jumps in. The nearest guy throws a punch and another tries his luck with a pipe. He avoids the pipe. The punch gets him. He takes one guy's hand and hits him under the throat. Then he pushes him successfully, throwing some people backwards. One tries to grab him from his back while another swings a bat. He blocks the bat with a billy club and immediately sidesteps making the guy behind him fall.

It continues like this. He gets hit. A lot. But the other guys are barely adults. They don't fight. They just swing their fists in all directions. No technique. 

A safety seal is taken from a gun. The wind carries the smell of coffee, dog and slight concrete. 

Frank. 

His stomach twists with excitement. What a surprise. 

The gun is fired and it hits the kneecaps. Just the kneecaps. So he continues fighting with the backup.

They are about to finish when one of the victims distracts him. Her smell is similar to Karen's. It's the same perfume. 

A guy decides to use this distraction to slash with a knife near the stomach. He avoids it. But it 's deep. Deep enough for stitches. 

He disarms the guy just as Frank finishes the last one. 

"How bad?" The voice comes from a rooftop two buildings away. 

Shakes his hand. Not that bad It says. 

"Liar."

Frank is coming over here and the victims are still inside a wagon. He approaches slowly and they still tremble at the sight of him.

"Go, find the police. There is one in a station nearby."

They run from the scene. He turns just in time to feel Frank's hand around his abdomen. 

"Shit Red. It's bad."

"Not that bad."

"Leave that for the people who can see."

"It can hear it."

"Tell me that when you are not bleedin."

"So little faith…"

"It needs stitches. I have a safe house around here."

"Huh."

"Same one from last time Red. Congrats you get to see it twice "

Both grunt. Matt as an answer. Frank as an answer to the answer. 

Time bleeds in and out. At least this time he doesn't hallucinate. Alcohol does some weird shit to your brain. Don't do alcohol, kids.

Maybe he did lose some blood.

When they arrive Frank sits him on the sofa. He sniffs and the sofa is practically made of blood stains. He leans into it. What is one more to the collection?

Turns out there were two additional rooms he didn't sense last time. The room he was in last time was the bedroom. This time he is in the living room, one of the places he didn't see last time. The other is a big cupboard with all the Punisher stuff. There are guns thrown around. But he guesses that hiding place is just in case. Overall, It's a big apartment for a safe house. 

Not that he knows much about safe houses.

A faint stinging in his side brings him back from his scanning. 

Frank is always soft with injuries that allow him to be soft. For example stitches. He handed out as little pressure as possible. His fingertips barely touch his injury. His calluses become petals on Matt's skin. 

Matt can feel the concentration emanating from Frank. 

"What is it?"

"Mmm"

"Frank."

"You need body armor, Red."

"I'm tryi-"

"No. Matt listen. Most of your injuries could be avoided if you had a suit."

"Bu-"

"Shut it for once and listen. If you still have the old suit I might be able to help. We can find other materials and change the suit. Make something new that actually protects you."

He actually has an idea. One he didn't

pay much thought to, afraid he might mess it up with his sewing skills. Maybe with Frank he might put it to practice.

"You are right Frank. You are. I might have an idea. Just… give me some time."

Frank sighs, leaning into Matt's good side. They fit. Somehow. 

"Yeah Red. All the time ya want."

"Thanks."

"Take a vest though. At least this week."

Matt shakes his head and rests it over Frank's head. 

"All right, Frank. All right."

They depart with a vest in plastic and a new promise. 

— Injuries —

Frank doesn't normally get thrown through walls. Getting thrown hardly happens. 

He can't really feel his back. It's fully numb. Like it's frozen. No more amo. Even if he had, he has no guns. He has a knife. Which is better than nothing. He holds it as he stumbles through the roofs of Hell's Kitchen. 

Fuck superhumans. 

Nevermind that these are Red's usual enemies. How the fuck does he deal with them? All the damn time? 

This isn't his only encounter with hostile superhumans. Hell, he wishes. Rather, he had the pleasure to meet Venom, Electro. Even Red entered that category once. 

Normally he would handle it. Work around the power imbalance with extra ammunition or brilliant strategies. Normally, a Rhino wouldn't come out of nowhere and slam him from the front into a wall. (Normally he would go home and sleep it all away. Normally, the voices and the memories would come back by now. They don't. For now.)

He sees shadows through the corner of his eyes as he reaches the Red's rooftop. He hopes he is already home and not in Queens. He doubts he can stand any longer. A tremor in his legs confirms this. 

He has a backup key to Matt's rooftop entrance. After weeks of breaking into each other's houses, it became necessary. 

The sofa is waiting for him. As clean as always, in ways only Matt can manage. He rests against it, closing his eyes even when it isn't recommended. 

Matt isn't here yet. If he was he would've heard from miles away. 

He waits half asleep, thinking about the last few days, the peace in them. He needs to ask about the suit. He needs to find a new job now that he left construction. The veterinarian close to his house won't have him. Maybe another one will.

Yeah maybe.

A hand touches his cheek and wakes him up. Matt.

"-od Frank. Frank. Are you with me?"

There is rustling and those are bandages wrapping around his hand. Yeah he also broke that. 

"You have several busted ribs. Barely avoided your back."

He can't summon the energy to talk so he just squeezes Matt's hand. 

"Thank goodness, Frank. It's good you are awake. Keep it up. I'm trying. I'm trying. I'm almost there."

He feels hand fly across his chest wrapping and stabilizing his ribs. Even closing a small cut. Not a single thing escapes Matt and that nose of his. 

When Matt is done he slips a hand beneath Frank and carries him to the bedroom. Or at least he thinks that happened. He was passed out for most of it. 

Frank loves the muscles in Matt's arms. Ok. Matt's whole body is carved like a Greek god. He loves it. How they can both carry each other when the other needs it. 

"I also love your muscles Frank."

Huh. He doesn't really regret saying it out loud. 

It's worth every second of hearing Matt's voice. 

"Yeah yeah, I also love my voice. Go to sleep, Frank. I have something to show you tomorrow."

Like that Frank slips away. 

— The old before the new — 

Frank wakes up to the smell of eggs and toast. 

If it wasn't for the horrible pain in his chest he would be in the kitchen already. Helping Matt set the table. Helping wash the dirty plates. 

It's something they did if they slept in the house of the other. It started not long after that one drunken kiss. Every kiss after that had been fully sober.

It's been only two weeks since then. But every day counts for them. Every second they are together becomes irreplaceable. 

Matt comes in with a tray, a smile, and his pajamas.

"Hello Sunshine. Love to see you awake."

He groans as he tries to rise. Very slowly he places his back on the pillows. 

Matt lets him. They help each other. But they are not dependent. 

"Hey Matt. What time?"

"9 o'clock. You are lucky I don't have any clients waiting till 4."

He doesn't need Matt's ears to know that is a lie. Matt is always buried under work. 

Might as well, use the time gifted to him. 

"Consider me thankful, your grace."

Matt shakes his head and leaves the tray by his side. A beautiful and delicious breakfast. 

Who is the better cook between the both of them?

Heh, he might have to bring Curtis to figure that one out. 

Frank eats in silence while Matt goes through the bandages. Matt takes his sweet time to explore Frank's torso. 

They both finish around the same time. 

"So, how is it?"

"Finishing for compliments? Nah, they are great as always Matt. I don't understand how they are always this good."

He feels a smile in the kiss Matt gives him. 

"That 's good. I was talking about your ribs. But good to know."

"They hurt like a bitch."

"What happened there? You have a bruise the size of your back and a puncture close to your stomach. And let's not talk about your ribs."

Once he asked about how that part worked. Apparently, bruises feel different. Temperature and everything. 

"Got slammed through a wall by a fucker who thinks he is a Rhino."

Matt hisses. 

"Fuck. Those hurt. Rhino is a fucking beast. Took me a while to figure out how to get rid of him. Don't know how Spider-Man does it. "

Ah yeah. Spider-kid. He has some mixed feelings. But overall he respects his strength. Keeps him at arm's length. Superpowers are superpowers. 

They stay in silence. Matt is probably mulling over how to hunt Rhino down. Frank thinking about the house arrest this would imply. Matt speaks first. 

"I have something to show you."

He stands up and leaves towards the living room. He hears the click of a lock. Matt comes in with an old wooden box. 

His old Daredevil suit peeks from the bottom of the box. But what really grabs his attention is the yellow and red clothes on top of it. 

"This was from my father. A boxer. He died after winning when he was supposed to lose. This was the clothing they gave him for that match."

He stares at Matt. He finds his eyes, unseeing but fond, directed at the clothes. 

"He never wanted me to fight. But I think. He… he would be proud of Murdock the lawyer."

"I want to give it a new life. A life that might help me protect what I have as Daredevil and Murdock."

He sees Matt grasping the clothing. Containing the tears that threaten escape.

He understands. So he speaks. 

"I'll help you."

Matt sits by his side. The silk sheets moved with him. 

"I'll help you make it worth it." Make his memory worth it. Make your sacrifice worth it. 

— The new — 

Selling coke has never been this hard in New York. 

If Daredevil doesn't find you, the Punisher does. You can only hope it's the first one. 

Today he is waiting in an alley for his client. Normally he doesn't work with anonymous tips. But he needs the money. 

He doesn't notice the shadow waiting from above.  

His client arrives as most of them do. Jumpy and anxious. With withdrawal symptoms. He takes it in stride. All for business.

Then a club hits his client in the face. 

Daredevil.

While criminals have seen him in the simple black attire his movements are still easily recognizable. 

He makes a run for his money but he is kicked in the back and slammed towards the wall. 

Close to passing out he sees the new suit.

It has lots of yellow and black. Yellow in his sleeves and pants. Black clothing connects those parts with the red vest that connects everything. His helmet is also yellow with a black neck. The horns now shine in the dark. The suit looks sturdy. Hard to get a hit through. Even worse. It is completely different but reminiscent of his golden days. The days before the murder fiasco. Before his decline and hiatus.

He was reborn from the dust left behind by heroes.

The devil is back on the streets. 

He gets a look at his posture. The clenched fists and snarl on the face. 

And he is not going anywhere.