Chapter 13
Warm water steadily flowed down over my body as I sat slumped on the cold floor of my walk-in shower. I had been sitting here for a while now, just staring at the bland, gray tiles in front of me. The water raining over me made it easier to ignore the tears still running down my face as I stared blankly ahead.
My eyes ached and burned. A persistent headache had been battering around in my head for hours. I hadn't slept much last night. After working the majority of the day and coming back home only to be blindsided by my ex and afraid of what he was going to do, then to be saved by Daredevil only to find out he was Matt–it had thrown me for too much of an emotional loop for me to get any sleep. I'd spent my night crying on my couch pathetically wrapped in a blanket.
Eventually I had dragged myself off my couch some time after seven when the sun glaring through my large windows and into my eyes had become too frustrating. At this point I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting on the floor of my shower crying like a pitiable wreck. Every time I thought I could get back up and be productive for the day another recent memory of Matt would flash through my mind–a hand on my thigh at Mad Goat, a cheeky smile thrown my way; straddling his lap, his mouth on mine; a flash of his affectionate smile, eyes crinkled and dimple visible; the sound of his warm, sweet laugh when I cracked a joke; him holding me on my couch as I poured my heart out to him; fingertips dancing over his muscled torso, cuddled in bed together; flirtations over dinner preparations, heart racing and palms sweating; his hands on me at Josie’s, his deep voice in my ear. The weight of all of our recent memories working towards a relationship only continued to pin me to the floor every time I thought I could get out of the shower.
I’d always figured I’d be stuck with someone like Justin for the rest of my life, never feeling like I’d attract another type of guy. Because assholes had somehow always found me and I always fell for them. Until I met Matt. He’d always been so good, so kind to me. He had always been everything I’d ever wanted but thought I could never have.
And right now it felt like I still couldn’t have him.
My heart hurt. All I wanted to do was call up Matt and apologize and tell him it didn’t matter that he was Daredevil. I’d spent the entire night and early morning trying to come to terms with Matt being the masked vigilante I’d come to know over the past couple of years; I spent that time trying to accept that he had withheld the truth for so long. I was still struggling with it, but I knew I could eventually accept the fact that he’d hidden and lied about that part of himself. Because Daredevil had repeatedly discussed keeping his identity secret with me in the beginning of our strange friendship. And I’d accepted his reasons. And they still made sense.
But what I couldn’t just accept and wrap my mind around was willingly beginning a relationship with someone who was out risking their lives on a near nightly basis as a vigilante. Always worrying if he would be alright. And what would that as a relationship even look like? Was it even do-able? Did I even want that? Sharing him with an entire city? Covering for him? Watching him come home battered and bruised? Risking a night where he never came back home to me? And for how long would he be doing it? Until it killed him?
I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, goosebumps dotting my skin as I huddled on the floor shivering. Eventually I couldn’t take the chill and forced myself to my feet, shutting off the water. I slid back the glass door, grabbing a towel from the hook beside me. Stepping out onto the plush bath mat, I dried myself off, scrubbing unnecessarily hard along my face trying to rid myself of the tears. My head ached more at the pressure.
I hung up the towel and dressed mindlessly into comfortable pajamas. I wasn’t going to leave the house today anyway. Absently I combed through my hair, my own eyes staring blankly back at me through the mirror. I left my bathroom heading towards my living room feeling like a ghost in my own apartment, shuffling my feet along the wood floors.
Dropping down onto my couch, I slid my laptop towards me on the coffee table and opened it. The screen lit up to a wedding I hadn’t finished editing; the image of a couple clutching each other’s hands under an arch filled with brightly colored flowers, tears in their eyes as they stared lovingly back at each other, glared back at me from the laptop. A strangled noise left my throat, tears stinging at my eyes instantly before I slammed the laptop closed and pushed it away.
I threw myself back onto my couch, dragging the blanket over my body and my head as I cried. How was I supposed to edit photos of couples in love? Answer their emails and phone calls about one of the biggest days of their life, listening to the beautiful stories about how they met or how they got engaged? Hell, how would I even attend a wedding next weekend to photograph every romantic detail when the thought made me want to crawl back to my shower floor and cry?
I’d spent two years managing to fight down my feelings for Matt, accepting what I had with Justin was all I’d ever have. That my feelings for Matt were just those of an unrequited crush. But how was I supposed to do that now knowing how Matt felt about me? How did I watch him sleep with other women when I had glimpsed what it could be like to actually have him? How could I sit with him at Mad Goat and not break down? How could I ever go to Josie’s and drink with him like it didn’t kill me how badly I wanted him?
Did I have to throw away my friendship with Matt and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen now if I couldn’t accept his double-life?
The pain at that realization had fresh tears running down my cheeks again and I buried my face into the couch cushions.
A series of hard knocks at my front door had me groaning on my couch, stirring from the restless sleep I’d fallen into. My eyes tightened as the headache in my head raged at the sound of someone continuing to pound on my door. I didn’t even have the energy to worry if it was Justin.
“Emily? It’s Foggy and Karen,” Karen’s voice came from behind the door.
Another groan left me and I buried my face further into the couch cushions. I didn’t need an audience for how pathetic I was acting. And I surely didn’t feel like telling them why I was like this, how things with Matt were basically over. I wouldn’t even be able to tell them why without giving out Matt’s secret.
Another round of knocks sounded at the door and I grabbed a cushion from the couch, pulling it over my ear to muffle the noise a little.
“Open up, Em!” Foggy called out. “I brought your favorite sandwich! And cookies!”
My stomach churned at the thought of food. I didn’t want to eat.
“Emily, please,” Karen pleaded. “We–we know what this is like.”
That caught my attention. I slid the pillow from off my head and turned an ear towards the door a bit.
“We didn’t react well either when we found out,” Karen continued. “Matt, he uh, he told us about last night. Foggy and I figured you would need someone to vent to. Maybe cry with.”
“Please let us in, Em,” Foggy begged. “We just want to help.”
Did they…know about his secret? Is that what they meant?
I carefully pushed myself upright, a hand landing on my forehead when the movement made me dizzy. With a huff I shuffled my way to the front door as another round of knocks began again. I winced at the sound, groaning as I swiftly tugged the door open.
Foggy lowered his arm, eyes going wide when he saw me. "Shit, Em," he muttered. "Did you even sleep?"
"No," I croaked. My eyes shifted over to Karen who's expression softened as her sharp eyes quickly scanned me over. "You said you didn't react well when you found out," I muttered. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"
She nodded, smiling gently. "Yeah."
"Matt's late night hobby?" Foggy clarified. "The reason he's often bruised and bloody?"
"Should've figured he would have told you two," I mumbled.
I turned and headed back to the couch, leaving the front door wide open. I heard them step inside, one of them closing the front door afterwards. I dropped onto the couch, dragging the blanket up around my body and watching as Foggy and Karen hesitantly made their way towards me. They both took a seat, Karen nervously tucking hair behind her ear as Foggy cautiously held out a bag of food.
"I brought your favorite turkey sub from Nelson's," he told me, smiling wide. "And two of your favorite double chocolate chunk cookies my mom makes."
I attempted a smile but wasn't sure if it came out right judging by the way Foggy’s mouth twitched. "Thanks, really. But I'm not hungry," I told him.
"But it's double chocolate chunk!" he protested loudly. "You love double chocola–oof!"
Karen elbowed him roughly in the side, cutting him off. She shook her head sharply at him.
"So what did Matt tell you about last night?" I asked, getting straight to it.
Karen's attention shifted to me. "He told us about Justin. How he was here harassing you last night. How he came over as Daredevil and…got rid of him," she said carefully. "Then about how you figured out it was him. He very briefly went over what–what happened after that." She swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap. "What did happen? He seemed confused and upset himself."
I sighed, rubbing the heels of my palms against my aching eyes. "I don't really know either," I admitted. "It's not like we were officially anything to actually break up. But it hurt that he'd lied to me as Matt and Daredevil for two years."
"Yeah, he uh, mentioned you and Daredevil had an extensive history together," Foggy said.
"But that wasn't the real issue, was it?" Karen asked carefully. "From what I gathered of what he said, I mean. It wasn’t entirely that he lied but that his lifestyle may not…allow for normal relationship progressions? If I’m understanding the bit he did say."
"More like whether he even wants those things because he'd rather go around scaling buildings and punching bad guys," I answered glumly. "What was the point of him telling me he had feelings for me if he wasn’t intending for things to hopefully go somewhere?” I vented. “I understand not everyone wants kids, and under normal circumstances that’s not something I’d bring up so abruptly–but to not know if you want to get married someday? When you’re considering beginning a relationship with someone? And how do I even date him as a–a vigilante?" I continued, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. “I mean what else would be the point of all of this? Sex? Because it doesn’t feel like he’s just out for sex–we aren’t even having sex. I just–just don’t understand what he wants. Or how this works. Did he just not…think that far ahead for what it meant to date me with that as a part of his life? How it would work if I wanted things to progress?”
Foggy was immediately holding out a hand, the movement cutting off my rambling. "The guy has been into you since the very beginning, Emily. That's why I thought it was weird when I thought he was, you know, putting the moves on you at Josie’s a while back. It's definitely about more than something physical for him with you. But as to the marriage thing?" Foggy shrugged lightly. "He never really had a good example. I mean you know his parents weren't together and…well…all of that." Foggy's eyes narrowed as he rested his elbows on his legs, leaning in towards me on the couch. "You do know Matt has abandonment issues, right?" he asked.
I exhaled roughly, nodding my head. "Yeah I gathered as much from how he talks about his dad's passing sometimes. And well, it's pretty obvious with what his mother did."
"So he hasn't exactly had the best examples," Foggy repeated. "And he leads this weird other life when he's not swamped with work. I just don't think Matt ever let himself picture a future. I think he…sorta thought he'd just die being Daredevil."
I grimaced, my eyes falling to my lap. That certainly didn't help my mood.
“I think,” Foggy continued, “somewhere along the way of becoming this vigilante he lost himself, too.”
“I agree,” Karen quickly interjected. “I think Daredevil has just been such a big part of his life for the last few years that he forgot to be Matt Murdock. That he needs to figure out what he wants.” Her expression softened as she smiled gently at me. “And you do, too. I think you both just need some time to think and then try to talk things over. Don’t jump to conclusions just yet. See if this is something you can both figure out together.”
“I’ve spent two years listening to him talk about you,” Foggy added. “The guy is crazy about you. He’s never been like this about anyone before, certainly not someone he wasn’t even, you know, with. I’m with Karen. You both seem like you’re immediately jumping ship before you know if it’s even sinking.”
I settled back into the couch, running a hand through my hair as I blew out a long breath. Maybe they were both right. Maybe I just needed to relax and give it a few days before trying to talk to Matt. Maybe we both needed to let the dust settle with these big revelations between us: that Matt currently leads a very unconventional lifestyle and that I want the conventional. Maybe it’s possible things could work out and all hope was not entirely lost if we just talked. Worked together and communicated.
"So how was he?" I asked anxiously, my hands toying with the fabric of the blanket. "When you saw him?"
Foggy let out a long, low whistle and my eyes darted up, glancing between the pair. Karen grimaced, her own gaze darting away to my coffee table.
“Not great,” Karen muttered.
“What’s that mean?” I pushed.
“I ended up going over there this morning since he wasn’t answering his phone,” Foggy explained. “I had something come up with a case we’re working on. And then I got worried at his radio silence. And then more worried when he wouldn’t answer his door. Had to use the spare key he hides behind the radiator near his door,” he told me. “I was honestly expecting to find him half-dead but he was just sulking on his couch. Nonresponsive for the most part. All I got out of him was your name and then he was crying. So I called Karen for some help. She was able to get a little bit more out of him.”
“He feels like he messed everything up,” Karen added carefully. “Thinks he ruined everything already. Thinks you’re pissed at him. That he lost the one thing he always wanted, as he put it.”
Chewing the inside of my cheek, I tried to fight back tears. “So he uh, told you both to check up on me?”
Karen shook her head slowly. “No, the moment he said ‘she knows’ we both knew you were going to need someone to talk to. I was glad to have Foggy when I first found out.”
“How did you both find out?” I asked curiously, my eyes shifting between the pair. “Because Daredevil always told me he would never tell me his identity. Told me how unsafe the knowledge was. And I know the three of you have always been pretty close, but…” I paused, licking my lips nervously. “But why did you two know, yet I never did? I was close with both sides of him and he still kept me in the dark.”
“Because he’s right,” Foggy said quietly. “It is dangerous to know. He wasn’t kidding about that. But at the same time…I still get a little angry thinking about how long he lied to me,” he confessed. “Still get mad that he never told me about his heightened senses at least. I mean…they are a little intrusive even if he doesn’t try to be.”
“Yeah,” I agreed awkwardly, thinking about that night at Josie’s where we’d been flirting. Knowing now that he could tell just how worked up he was getting me. “That’s definitely something to get used to.”
“I found out accidentally, though,” Foggy told me. “I was drunk one night. One of our clients had been–been murdered by Fisk,” he said, voice filled with emotion. Karen ducked her head, running a hand across her own eyes. Foggy cleared his throat and pushed on. “I was banging on his door, trying to get him to answer. And then I heard this loud crash and I was so afraid he’d hurt himself–because he’s blind and you know how he always shows up with these injuries all the time? So I ran up to the roof access and got into his apartment through there. Found the man in black stumbling out of Matt’s bedroom,” Foggy continued, a faraway look in his eyes as he remembered the night. “He was covered in cuts and blood, wheezing like he couldn’t breathe. Then he just…collapsed on Matt’s living room floor. I was about to call an ambulance but a strange thought struck me and I pulled the mask off to find…it had been Matt. This whole time.”
“Shit,” I breathed out, eyes watering.
Foggy nodded, his eyes focused on his feet now. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I thought he was going to die. I was so shocked and so scared and so pissed. It was…awful. And then when his nurse friend helped patch him up and he came around the next morning, he could barely move. He was so beat to hell. And then he wanted me to continue to lie to everyone else for him so he could keep going out and being The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.”
“That…that was when you two had that big fight?” I asked him, realization dawning on me. “When the firm first broke up?”
Foggy nodded. “Yeah. I felt like I didn’t know my friend. It fucking hurt, Em. And I had no one to talk to about any of it. Not until he told Karen.”
My head darted to Karen immediately. “Wait, he told you?”
“I was in danger from Fisk,” she said softly. “And he knew I wasn’t buying his bullshit lines anymore about getting hit by cars or falling down a flight of stairs. He told me to help keep me safe. And then later because it…it helped him when I wrote articles outing the criminals he was taking down.”
“So that’s why you’re the one who always writes the Daredevil pieces at The Bulletin?” I asked her. “Because Daredevil comes to you, because Matt asks for your help.”
She nodded. “Yeah. And it was–was hard to come to terms with, like Foggy said. Like I’m sure you’re feeling now. But at least you have Foggy and I to talk things through. You’re not alone trying to comprehend all of it. Not alone in the times you might worry Daredevil is going to–to get himself killed,” she said, voice cracking.
“We’ve tried to get him to stop,” Foggy told me. “I feel it’s important for you to know that. We tried, but he wound up back in it. Thought he died shortly after.”
My heart lurched in my chest. “That time you guys said he was missing? Right before I moved?” I asked, remembering the terrible couple of months I could never get ahold of Matt. “What happened?”
“A building fell on him,” Foggy said carefully and I gasped. “Midland Circle. We thought he died.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I breathed out.
Karen’s warm eyes met mine. “You need to know what you’re getting into with Matt. With Daredevil. He has a terrible history of not taking care of himself. Throwing himself into something even if he knows it might kill him. It's…hard to see sometimes," she said with a grimace. "I don't want to sugar coat it. I don't want to lie. But…" her voice trailed off as she hesitantly chewed her bottom lip.
"But what?" I pressed.
She sighed, shifting towards me on the couch more. "But he hasn't been going out as much lately," she told me slowly. "He hasn't been throwing himself into things like he used to. I noticed the change ever since you started coming back out to Josie’s. Ever since you said you kissed Daredevil."
"Okay, hold up," Foggy cut in, waving his hands around. His head snapped towards me, eyes wide and shock written all over his face. "You kissed him? As Daredevil?"
I smiled sheepishly, my gaze dropping to the blanket in my lap. My hands twisted the fabric awkwardly. "Yeah…twice…" I admitted.
"Well he never told me that," Foggy grumbled.
"Does that really surprise you?" Karen asked him. Her attention returned to me as she continued. "I yelled at him via text, by the way, after you told Marci and I–"
"Marci knows you kissed Daredevil?" Foggy asked, voice rising a few octaves in shock now.
I cleared my throat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah…"
"As I was saying," Karen continued, side eyeing Foggy, "I called him out on it that night you told us about it. Because he shouldn't have been doing that to you without you knowing the truth. But since you refused to get a taxi I told him you were drunk and he should make sure you got home safe. Apparently he thought shoving his tongue down your throat again was necessary," she added with a grumble.
"Wait," I said, rubbing a hand across my forehead. "So it was you who told him where I was?" I asked Karen.
"Yeah," she told me. "I didn't expect him to show up and act all–" she waved a hand in the air in front of her, "–cocky and smug. Just wanted him to follow you quietly."
A slight smile tugged at my lips as I remembered that night. "That's the relationship we had," I said softly, eyes fixed on my lap again. "We flirted. A lot. And he often found me at night and would walk me home from bars to make sure I got home safe."
"He never told us about that," Karen said gently.
My attention returned to the pair before me, the smile still on my lips. "For two years–except for the time I wasn't in Hell’s Kitchen–I would run into him a few times a week. I'd tell him about weddings I'd done, which thinking back on,” I paused, brows knitting together, “I'd already told Matt about those same stories…but he still listened to me repeat them to him like it was the first time he'd heard it." A flood of memories rushed back to me of so many nights spent talking to Daredevil. "He let me vent about Justin's cheating. Or things he'd done or said to me that had hurt me that week. He always knew how to make me feel better. Just like…just like Matt did."
I ran a hand through my hair a few times, grinning at all the jokes we had shared and the random encounters we'd had. All the times he'd made sure I got home safe and all the flirty comments he had made. How much he had tried to fight kissing me when I had pushed Daredevil–practically begged him the second time.
I felt myself getting emotional, a hand flying up to my mouth as I suddenly realized just how much Matt cared about me. All this time. As both sides of himself. He had always been there for me.
"What?" Karen asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"He's really been there for me for years," I breathed out. "And then he shows up for me again and I find out the truth and I just–just kick him out." I could feel tears stinging behind my eyes. "I am such an ass!"
"You were upset," Foggy pointed out. "He knows that."
"I should call him," I mumbled. "Should let him know that I–I want to talk in a few days. That I'm not pissed at him."
"Absolutely," Foggy agreed. And then he leaned forward and pushed the bag of food on the coffee table towards me. "After you eat something. Because you probably haven't in way too long."
My eyes landed on the bag of food and I exhaled a deep breath. My gaze shifted back to Foggy and Karen and I smiled gently. "Alright. Thank you. Both of you. I uh, I feel a little better. You're right, Karen," I told her. "It is nice that I've got you both to talk to about this all. I don't know how you handled this alone, Fog."
"With a lot of alcohol," he told me with a humorless chuckle. "So eat. Call Matt. Get some rest," he ordered.
I nodded, reaching out and grabbing the bag from my coffee table. My stomach growled at the smell.
"Tell your mom thanks for the cookies," I told Foggy. "Double chocolate chunk is my favorite."
It was another hour before Foggy and Karen finally left me. I was in a slightly better mood after venting and getting new perspectives and some food in my body.
Now I was sitting cross legged on my couch staring at my phone in my blanket-covered lap. I had tried to pick it up and call Matt four times now, but every time I’d overthink, wondering what to say. And then the phone ended up right back in my lap.
I chewed the nail on my thumb, staring at the distorted reflection of myself in the black screen.
“Fuck it,” I muttered.
I picked the phone back up and found Matt’s number in my contacts and forced myself to hit the ‘call’ button. With a sharp exhale I held the phone to my ear, listening to it ring as I continued apprehensively gnawing on my nail. The longer it rang, the more my nerves began to rise, flitting around in my stomach. Maybe this was stupid and I shouldn’t have called. Maybe he didn’t want to talk. Maybe he was mad at me for how I reacted and threw him out last night.
When I thought the call was going to reach his voicemail, he finally picked up.
“Emily?” he answered, hopeful.
I hesitated a moment, nail still trapped between my teeth. With a deep inhale, I closed my eyes and spoke. “Hey, Matt,” I breathed out.
A long silence followed, one full of so many questions and palpable pain on both ends of the line. A silence that felt wrong between us.
“Foggy and Karen came by,” I blurted out.
“Yeah, I figured they might after this morning,” he replied.
Another awkward pause. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“Emily, I’m sorry,” Matt apologized in a rush, his tone full of hurt. “I’m so fucking sorry. I wanted to tell you, certainly not like that. I wanted to give you a chance to ask anything you needed to. Anything you wanted to. I didn’t–didn’t want you to find out like that.”
“I believe you,” I whispered.
“I understand why you’re angry with me–”
“I’m not angry with you, Matt,” I interrupted him.
He stopped, pausing and taking in what I’d said. “You’re not?” he asked cautiously.
I sighed, removing the nail from between my teeth and running my hand through my hair anxiously. “No. I’m hurt. I’m confused. But I’m not mad at you, Matt.” My eyes shifted to the late afternoon sun hanging just above the city skyline out of my living room window. For a brief moment I wished he was sitting here with me. “And I am sorry for the way I basically threw you out last night. Especially after…what you did for me.”
“Don’t–” his voice broke on the word and he cleared his throat before continuing. “Don’t apologize to me, Emily. Please, I can’t hear you apologize to me after how I lied. After what you just went through last night.”
“You didn’t deserve that, though,” I told him. “You deserve a chance to speak. I just…couldn’t handle anything more last night.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.
My eyes closed at the term of endearment still uttered with so much affection. A faint smile tugged at my lips but I could still feel the ache in my chest. “I think we should take the week apart from each other,” I said slowly, gaze focusing back on the afternoon sun. “No seeing each other. No communication.” I swallowed hard, trying to shove the emotion back down my throat before I could start crying at what I was saying. “Just think everything over. I need to…figure out if this is something I can get into. If I can handle a relationship that…entails more than I anticipated. And you should figure out what you want, Matt. What you want from me. Because I–” I stopped, eyes beginning to sting with tears and throat starting to close up. “I don’t want something that isn’t going to go anywhere in the end. And if that isn’t what you want then I–I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.
I sighed heavily, eyes closing again under the weight of what I was going to say. “I mean, all or nothing, Matty. I don’t think I can go back to what we were before after what we’d been these last few weeks. I don’t–I can’t just sit and pretend I only care for you like a friend anymore. And I can’t watch you with other women anymore. It hurt before but I think it would…” My voice trailed off, tears slipping down my cheeks.
“I understand,” he murmured.
I exhaled a shaky breath slowly. “I uh, I have a wedding Saturday and an engagement session Sunday evening,” I told him. “I can meet up one of those evenings, if you want. Unless you want to wait until Monday to get together to talk?”
“Anytime Sunday is fine, Em,” he told me. “I don’t want to add anything more to your already busy Saturday.”
“Okay,” I breathed out. “I can come to your place Sunday night, if you want?”
“Yeah, sure,” he answered.
Another one of those agonizing silences fell between us. I chewed my bottom lip uncomfortably at the faint sound of him breathing on the other side. It felt as if there was some unspoken understanding that if neither of us said goodbye, we could postpone the approaching heartache at having to ignore each other for the next week. As if by prolonging this moment on the phone, listening to the other breathing, we could pretend it wasn’t going to happen.
As a few stray tears began to fall, I wiped them away. We couldn’t stay on the call forever, though. One of us would have to be the one to let go.
“I’ll see you next Sunday night,” I reluctantly said.
“Yeah,” he choked out, the sound drawing more of my own tears. “I’ll see you Sunday.”
“Bye, Matty,” I whispered.
“Bye, Em.”
I ended the call, dropping my phone back into my blanket-covered lap. It felt like all I’d been doing for hours, but somehow fresh, warm tears still found their way out of my eyes.