His Little Miracle

So you pocketed your phone, grabbed your wallet and keys, and started the short trek down to the store. It was relatively quiet in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, which was surprising for a summer night. The heat always seemed to stir up the worst in people, which kept Matt busy. He’d been exhausted lately, especially after catching wind that the Italian Mafia was getting riled up about a turf war with the Russians. You hoped he was being careful, but in case he wasn’t, you decided to also pick up some more bandages while you were at the store.

The jingle of the bell on the door made the cashier look up at you, and you recognized him as the owner. He’d always been nice to you when you came in, asking about the baby and occasionally throwing in an extra sweet treat he knew you liked ‘on the house’. You gave him a smile. “Hi Raphael,” you greeted, placing a hand on your belly. “Little one wanted a slushie. Please tell me your machine is working.”

Raphael let out a laugh and waved a hand at the slushy machine in the back of the store. “Help yourself! We’ve got cherry, blue raspberry, and cola. Take your pick.”

You nodded and shuffled your way to the back of the store, picking the biggest sized cup and beginning to fill it with the red slush. Your free hand cradled the bottom of your stomach, absentmindedly rubbing it with your thumb. You felt a small shift, a flutter of movement, and smiled to yourself. “Your daddy is going to be grossed out by the corn syrup, you know. You can’t keep making me want junk food, you keep getting me in trouble,” you chided in a whisper aimed at your belly. 

You heard the jingle of the bell above the door again, but didn’t pay it any mind. Well, not at first. Not until you heard a voice, not Raphael’s, begin to yell. “Give me all the money in the register!”

It took you a moment to process, your hand releasing the lever on the machine with an audible ‘click’. Once your brain caught up, you could hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears, and a cold sweat break out on the back of your neck. You turned slowly to see two men, both brandishing guns, standing at the front of the store. One was by the door, the lower half of his face covered in a red bandana, and he was looking keyed up, his broad frame bouncing on the balls of his feet. The other man was slightly shorter, a little more lanky, and his face was covered with a white bandana. He seemed more confident, more collected as he pointed his gun straight at Raphael, who was staring wide-eyed at the robber, visibly trembling. 

“Please, don’t do this. I’ve got a family at home, children, a wife,” he said quickly, his hands raised in front of his chest. 

“Just give me the money, and no one has to get hurt,” the man in the white bandana replied, his gaze flicking to you. There was something desolate, dead behind his eyes. It sent ice through your veins, and he turned the gun to you, stalking forward. “Get your ass over here, bitch. Think you can hide back there?”

You shook your head quickly, rushing to put your hands up in front of you. The cherry slushie you just poured smacked on the ground, the red liquid covering the linoleum and splashing up on your legs. “Not trying to hide,” you insisted, but your voice cracked, showing your fear. Your fingers were shaking, and you resisted the urge to cover your stomach, shield your baby from this danger coming towards you.

“Javi, just grab the cash and we can go,” the man at the door insisted, but he kept his gun trained on Raphael, despite the edge to his voice.

The man in the white bandana, Javi, reached forward and grabbed your arm with bruising force, hauling you back to the register with him. You didn’t have time to process before you felt his forearm against your throat, and the cold metal of his gun resting against your temple. Your flip flops made awful, sticky squelching noises against the slushie-covered linoleum. “Give me the money, or the lady drops. Got it?”

Your eyes watered, and you struggled to swallow against the arm at your airway, but you didn’t dare move your hands from their surrendered position. Panic filled your system, your pulse hammering against his inner elbow, and you spared a glance at the man waiting by the door. His gun was still aimed at Raphael, but he was frantically looking outside, radiating nervous energy. His back pushed the door open a bit, and you saw an opportunity, one you knew you couldn’t miss. With a quick inhale, and as much courage as you could muster, you let out the loudest scream you could create. Matt was acutely tuned in to the unique sound of your voice. If he heard you, he would come, no questions asked.

Javi was quick in his response, administering an abrupt blow to your head with the butt of his gun. Pain flared brightly behind your eyes, and you felt the warm, thick ooze of blood start to mat your hair to your scalp. “Shut up!” He barked in your ear. He turned his gun on Raphael, his gaze locked in now. “Money, before I blow her brains out for that little stunt she just pulled.”

Raphael nodded and began emptying the register, throwing the stacks of money on the counter. You watched for a moment, your vision hazy, and you wondered briefly if you were going to pass out. You tried to keep your focus on the sounds outside, desperate to heard any sign of Matt coming to your aid. Abruptly, you heard the jingle of the door bell again. You turned your head to see the other man being yanked out into the dark street, and there were sounds of a struggle before silence. Javi’s body tightened at your back, his whole form tense and you would have sworn your heard his finger twitch on the trigger next to your ear. He shifted you carefully in front of him as he turned to face the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen walking through the front door. 

“Let her go,” the devil warned, his fingers twitching at his sides. If you didn’t know any better, the way his head dipped down, and the fixed gaze of the red lenses would have been a menacing sight. But behind that all, you saw the tense muscles in Matt’s neck, and the ragged breaths being pulled into his chest. He was terrified. 

“I don’t think so,” Javi retorted, pressing the barrel of his pistol against your temple so hard you knew it would leave an imprint. 

Your hands dropped from their hovered spot in the air, wrapping around your stomach protectively. Matt’s fingers twitched again. “Please, just let me go. Please, Javi.”

His breath fanned the loose strands of your hair forward, and they stuck to the sweat, blood, and tears on your cheek. “Not a chance, mami. Not until I have my cash, and I’m out of here. Call off your hell hound.”

Your eyes locked on Matt, silently pleading with him to help you, to find a way out of this. His head tilted slightly, his tongue sweeping out to lick his lips nervously. “Javi, you can’t hurt her. She’s pregnant,” Matt tried to reason, taking a small step forward. 

Javi barked out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. The gun left it’s spot beside your head, and for a moment, you were relieved. Until you felt the barrel press against the swell of your stomach instead. You let out an involuntary whimper, your breath coming quicker now, close to hyperventilating. “I’m not above killing a baby, Diablo. I’ve done worse.”

Matt took another sudden step forward, recklessly following his need to get to you, but stopped abruptly as Javi’s finger twitched on the trigger. “Don’t you dare.” Matt’s voice came out in a growl, gritty and seeping with unbridled rage, but he was pinned in his spot. 

Suddenly there was a sharp jolt as Javi careened sideways, accompanied with a thump of something dense hitting his head. You fell ungraciously out of his grasp, luckily able to brace yourself as you fell forward. Your hands smacked against the linoleum, melted red slushie splashing up at the impact. You scrambled away from Javi as fast as you could, and you felt a light whisper of wind against your skin as Matt leapt over you, landing on top of your assailant. You pulled yourself behind the end cap of a nearby aisle, away from the view of the fight and the register, boxes of crackers digging into your back as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. Your breaths were coming to you in short, sporadic gasps, and your vision was swimming in front of you, black spots clouding your sight. There was the sound of a scuffle behind the roaring in your ears, and then the sharp sound of a gunshot.

Your hand came up to cover your mouth, trying desperately to muffle any sounds you were making, to quiet the sobs wracking your chest. There were footsteps approaching you quickly, and you started to crawl further down the aisle until you caught a glimpse of Matt’s black boots and the burgundy color of his shin guards. You flung yourself at him, draping your arms around his shoulders and openly sobbing against his neck. He was trying to whisper something to you, soft and soothing, but you couldn’t hear, not over the static roaring in your ears. His hands gripped your sides, almost too tight, but you couldn’t care in the moment, not when that feeling was grounding you to reality. 

Finally, you managed to make out his voice calling your name, the sound of it breaking through the rush in your ears. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice choked, coming out broken. He sounded wrecked.

You let out a soft whimper and shook your head. “I need stitches,” you admitted, your voice breaking. You could still feel the blood oozing down your face from somewhere at your hairline. 

Matt nodded quickly, his hands grazing over you, as if checking for any more injuries. They came to rest on the swell of your stomach. “The owner is calling the police now.”

You swallowed heavily, your hand fisting in the cowl at the nape of Matt’s neck. “Can you… can you hear the baby?” You asked in a whisper, your eyes squeezing shut as a pain shot up your back. 

He nodded again, his gloved hands pressing firmly to your belly. “Still there, but the heartbeat, it’s too quick. Try to breathe for me, sweetheart, please,” he begged, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he held you against him. “You have to try to calm down.”

You made the effort of trying to slow down your breathing, but your whole body was still wound so tight with adrenaline and anxiety. Matt lifted his head after a minute, tilting as he listened to something you couldn’t hear. He let out a choked sound, his fingers gripping you tighter for a moment. “Sweetheart, listen to me. I have to go,” he murmured softly, reaching around to rub your back.

“What? No,” you whimpered, using all of your remaining strength to hold him closer to you. “You can’t, you can’t leave me.”

A strangled moan lodged in his throat. “I have to, baby. I can’t be here when the police arrive. But I’ll be at the hospital when you get there, I promise. I don’t want to leave, but I have to.”

If you were thinking more logically, you would have known he was right, but your brain was just desperate for him to hold you, to protect you, to tell you your baby would be alright. You shook your head as he began to slip away. “Please, Matty, please,” you sobbed, looking up at him with tears spilling openly down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with the fingertips of his gloves and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be listening the whole way, okay? You won’t be alone.”

Before you could protest more, he was gone.

-

Matt’s heart was pounding in his chest, the sound of your scream echoing in his ears and goading him to sprint faster and faster across the rooftops. You weren’t far, just a block away, but it felt like thousands of miles as the muscles in his legs burned. His ears were now acutely tuned into that little convenient store, and he could hear the trickle of blood against your scalp, could taste the unique tang of your blood in the air. As he got closer, the loud banging of your heart against your ribs was the only thing keeping him from not losing it completely. You were still alive, and he was going to keep it that way. 

He got lucky with the guy at the door. He was too jumpy to be focused on the shadows in front of the store. Though he was physically bigger, Matt had the advantage of pure adrenaline on his side. 

Then he was inside the store, and his senses were in overdrive. There was a sickeningly sweet smell that wafted up from the poorly washed linoleum and assaulted his nose. It mixed nauseatingly with the scent of gunpowder and blood, making his stomach churn. The low hum of the freezers and machines in the back of the store caused everything to be slightly muffled in his ears. He tuned it out as quickly as he could, searching out for your heartbeat, for the baby’s heartbeat. You were in front of him, not even ten feet away, but it felt impossibly far. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage, and underneath, the baby’s was following suit. Both were too fast, too full of panic and dread. His own breath was coming in too quickly, his muscles pulled taut with anxiety. 

“Let her go,” he growled out, animalistic even in his own ears. The electricity thrumming throughout his body made his muscles twitch, and the devil inside pulled against his chains wildly. Matt was desperate to let him out, but the situation was too delicate, too explosive. 

“I don’t think so,” the man behind you answered, his grip tightening on you almost imperceptibly. The muscles in his arm creaked with the effort. 

The temperature inside Matt’s body burned hot, everything covered in a hazy cloud of red. He heard the shift of your arms, the brush of your skin against the fabric of your tank top as you cradled your abdomen. Protecting the baby. You begged with the man holding you, “Javi” as you provided, pleaded with him. Your eyes locked onto Matt as Javi responded, and he could almost hear the desperation in your thoughts. He needed to find a way to get you out of this, before it escalated, before… 

God is going to take them from me.

The thought was enough to make Matt break into a cold sweat, his nerves finally poking through his hard exterior. He licked his lips, his mind frantically searching for a way to get you out of this. The baby’s fluttering heartbeat called his attention again. “Javi, you can’t hurt her. She’s pregnant,” he breathed, trying desperately to reason with the man. To save his family from being torn from his grasp. 

He even took a step forward, and was hesitantly relieved when the displacement of air around your head suggested the pistol had been lowered. But instead the scent of metal and gunpowder got lowered, the barrel shoved against the side of your stomach, a whimper released from your throat. He lurched forward once more, almost involuntarily, his distraught mind clouding his judgement for just a second. The sound of grating metal made him freeze, Javi’s finger flexing against the trigger. 

“Don’t you dare.” Matt almost didn’t recognize his own voice, distorted with anguish and rage. Just underneath the surface, the Devil was gnashing and lunging forward, desperate to be let out of his cage. 

Something caught his attention off to his left. The owner made a grab for something solid and metal and whipped it through the air, aiming directly for Javi’s head. Matt knew this would be his only chance, and he had to time it perfectly. He shot forward just as the impact happened, leaping over you as you crumpled to the ground. 

From there it was almost a blur. Javi made a reach for his gun, but Matt easily blocked his aim as he pulled the trigger, his arm snapping in tandem with the bullet lodging in the ceiling.  Blood stained his gloves, shining crimson in the fluorescent lights. Javi’s bones shattered and collapsed under Matt’s heavy blows. Nothing in him wanted to stop, to pull back before this man was dead. He had threatened your life, his baby’s life, and he would be lucky to be nothing but a vegetable.

But your cries broke through the haze, and Matt pulled off of the unconscious man below him. He rushed around the aisle, his boots sticking obscenely to the slush-covered linoleum, following the sound of your racing heart and muffled sobs. As he got close, you started to scatter away, only to realize it was him a second later. Then you were in his arms, trembling against him, and Matt broke. 

He pulled you tight against him, though his whole body was shaking with the sudden release of adrenaline. His mouth was next to your ear, shushing you softly and whispering reassurances that you desperately needed to hear. The cold sweat that had started earlier sent a chill down his spine and he felt like he could puke at any moment. Losing you had been close, too close, and the thought of it couldn’t be more nauseating. Dread clenched at his heart, an ache settling deep within his chest. He needed to know if you were okay. 

When you finally answered him, you didn’t give the answer he needed. He already knew you needed stitches, could hear the blood seeping through the open wound two inches back from your hairline. But he nodded regardless and started tracing your body with his hands, scanning to feel for any injuries he hadn’t picked up on yet. He reassured you that the authorities were coming, that the owner was on the phone with them, but he was only somewhat focused on the phone conversation. He could hear the rush of blood thrumming under your skin, your blood pressure much to high to be normal, and beneath that, the sound of the baby’s heartbeat, still too fast. It  shouldn’t sound like that, it sounded wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. 

The tightening of your hand against the cowl at his neck brought him back to you, enough to hear your question. He didn’t know how to fix it, just knew that you were still panicked and your body was reflecting that. So he urged you to calm down, to breathe, the whine in his voice reflecting his desperation. 

All too soon he heard the sound of sirens approaching, and he knew he couldn’t stay, despite everything in his body screaming for him to. He had to force himself to pull away from you, to ignore your pleas as the ambulance screeched to a halt outside. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be seen with you as The Devil, lest he put you in more danger. Danger seemed to follow him regardless of what he did, but he would be damned if he dragged you down to hell with him. 

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done… 

On earth, as it is in heaven…

-

True to his word, Matt listened intently to the ambulance as he stumbled into the apartment, ripping off his suit as he headed towards the bedroom. His hearing was strained, but he could just make out the muffled voices of the paramedics discussing your care, reading off stats from the bed of the ambulance. He changed as quickly as possible into a pair of sweats, grabbing a mobility cane from the closet before he climbed the stairs back to the rooftop. He’d never be able to follow the ambulance on their way to the hospital if he was on the sidewalk with his cane. Instead, he hopped from rooftop to rooftop, following the sound of the sirens as he went, cursing when the noise covered up the sound of your heartbeat.

They had unloaded the ambulance by the time Matt reached the entrance to the ER, now back at civilian level and with his cane. He was doing a half-hearted job at pretending to need the mobility aid, too anxious to be back by your side. His cane smacked against the base of the nurses’ station, and he gripped the counter in front of him, his knuckles turning white with the force. The nurse behind the counter, an older lady who smelled of burnt coffee and floral perfume, looked up at him. “Hi, I’m looking for my girlfriend, she was just brought in,” he said quickly, his voice rough. He gave the nurse your name, careful to spell it out correctly, and listened intently as the nurse’s fingers clacked against the keyboard. He quickly added, “Please, she’s pregnant, I need to see her.”

The nurse hummed, the sound low in her throat. She seemed entirely too bored for the urgency of the situation. Matt felt like his chest could explode at any moment, but she was in no rush. “It says here that she’s still being evaluated. If you could just wait here, mister-“

“Murdock, Matthew Murdock.”

“Mister Murdock. Unfortunately we cannot have visitors in for the intake evaluation,” the nurse finished. 

“Please,” Matt pleaded, his voice cracking. He realized belatedly that he forgot his glasses in his rush, and the tears welling in his eyes were visible to the nurse. Normally it would bother him, being without the barrier between him and the rest of the world, but that seemed so insignificant now. “I can’t, I need to-“

“Matt?” 

His head whipped upwards as he heard the familiar voice, and he could feel the weight in his chest get a little lighter. “Claire, thank god.”

Claire rushed forward, putting a hand on Matt’s arm. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

He quickly shook his head, his hands moving to the handle of his cane, wringing it in his grasp. “No, it’s not me. Can you take me to-“

“Come on, I just saw her being brought in,” Claire ushered him through the doors, ignoring the protests of the older nurse behind the station. “Sorry Maureen!”

Claire guided him down the hallway, and Matt tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched at the overwhelming stench of antiseptic and blood. There were few other scents he hated more than an emergency room. The sensory input of the place made it hard to focus, too many sounds, too many smells, too much sadness and pain. His brain was already fried from the spike in adrenaline earlier, and his anxious thoughts made it difficult to filter through everything around him. He couldn’t make out your heartbeat, or the baby’s, not with so many other heartbeats to sort through, not with the loud sounds of wailing coming from one of the exam rooms. 

She’s gone.

The baby’s gone. 

I lost them.

I don’t deserve them, so they were taken from me, an atonement for my sins.

God’s loyal soldier, cast down to Hell.

Claire brought him to a stop, her eyes scanning a clipboard hanging just to the right of a closed door. “Yep, this is the room,” she mumbled, mainly to herself. She then turned to Matt. “Go on in. If anyone asks, blame me, let me take the write up. They can just add it to my file.”

Suddenly Matt was hesitant. You were right through the door, separated from him with a simple piece of wood, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to go through. There were still so many sounds, so many smells, and he couldn’t feel his body enough to make it move. 

“Matt?”

He swallowed heavily, shaking his head. “I can’t, Claire, I-“

“Your girl needs you in there, Matt,” Claire urged, stepping closer to him and grabbing his face in her hands. “Listen to me. You need to go in there and help her keep calm. Can you do that?”

The feeling of Claire’s hands makes Matt’s senses snap back, recoiling like a rubber band. There was a clarity that wasn’t there before, and his ears immediately zoned into your heartbeat on the other side of the door, a machine beeping in tandem.  It took him longer to find the baby’s heartbeat, faster than he was used to hearing, accompanied by another monitor. His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I… thank you, Claire.”

The nurse nodded, squeezing his face firmly before letting go. “And don’t go looking for the guy who did this. He’s not here anyways, got life flighted out of here. He’ll be lucky to ever walk again.”

“… Good.”

And with that, Matt pushed open the door to your room.

-

“I’m assuming you’re the partner,” the doctor said, extending his hand. “Dr. Weiss.”

“Matthew Murdock. Thank you, for taking care of her,” Matt replied sincerely, reluctantly releasing one of your hands to shake the doctor’s, but he quickly returned it. He perched carefully on the side of your bed, allowing you to move closer and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his hip. He encircled you in his arms as well, rubbing over your tense shoulders to ease the tremors there.

“Unfortunately I have some concerning news to share with you both,” the doctor continued. “Due to the stress of what caused you to come in, we’re seeing evidence of pre-term labor contractions. They’re sporadic, but it is putting the baby into distress.”

Matt felt like someone had dropped freezing water down his spine. He could hear your breathing hitch, and a soft whimper muffled by your face being pressed into his side. “What - what can we do to stop it?” He choked out, his fingers flexing against your back as he resisted the urge to curl himself around you, protect you from danger. But this wasn’t something he could protect you from, not anymore.

Dr. Weiss moved to the IV bag next to your bed, grabbing a syringe filled with clear liquid from a nearby cart. “We need to try to lower stress levels, and bring down her blood pressure. I’m administering a light sedative, which should help with both. I’m going to come in every hour to check to see if she’s dilating. If she starts to dilate, there will be nothing we can do, and she’ll be moved up to the labor and delivery ward.”

You let out another soft whimper. “It’s too early. I’m only 23 weeks,” you protested, tensing as a spasm of pain gripped your lower back, you bit your lip to keep from crying out. Matt reached down reflexively, kneading the heel of his palm against the tense muscles, knowing exactly where to press and how much pressure to use.

Dr. Weiss nodded and emptied the syringe into the port of the IV. “We’re going to do our best to stop these contractions before they become too regular. If all fails, we’ll give you some steroids to help the baby’s lungs develop as much as possible before delivery. I do have to warn, even with intensive interventions, the chances of survival for the baby are only 50% if delivered in the next 48 hours.”

50%. 

Matt’s hands stilled on your back, his whole body going numb in an instant. If the baby came, it would only have a 50% chance of survival. Panic gripped his chest, squeezing impossibly hard. Please, God, no. Not my baby, please. I’ll do anything, don’t take them from me… Everything was screaming in Matt’s head now, but he tried to stay focused on you, stay present. The tethers of his sanity were getting thinner, like strands of silk being pulled apart and fraying open. His hands continued their ministrations on the small of your back, but he wasn’t fully conscious of doing it, even if he could feel the muscles flexing under his fingers. “What can I do?” He choked out, needing to help but not knowing how. Tears escaped from the corners of his eyes, burning hot as they slid down his cheeks.

Dr. Weiss looked up at him from where he was watching a screen, and Matt tracked the cords from it up to a round disk that was strapped to your stomach. “Help her breathe through the pain, keep calm. I’ve already got a monitor hooked up to keep track of contractions and their strength. If this thing starts going wild, if it picks up an abnormally strong contraction, press the call button on the side of the bed, right above your head. I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

Matt nodded, choking down a swallow past the lump in his throat. He tilted his head down towards you as the doctor exited, noticing the way your body eased up. “Contraction over?” He asked in a murmur, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from your forehead where it had fallen.

You nodded, your face nuzzling against his hip. You tilted your face up to look at him, and Matt moved his hand to wipe away some of the tears that lingered on your cheeks. A wave of guilt washed over you, crashing into you and pulling you under. “I’m sorry, Matt. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight-“

“Hey, no, don’t say that. None of this is your fault, angel,” he reprimanded, but it held no malice. “Don’t think for a second that I could ever blame you.”

Your lower lip trembled and your fingers gripped the fabric of his t-shirt in a vice. “But, the baby-“

“Is going to be fine,” he finished for you, an edge creeping into his voice, a stiffness settling into his shoulders. After a moment, he let out a breath, allowing the tension to leave his frame. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just try to relax, okay? Maybe… maybe if you just get some rest, we can slow this thing down. Can we try that?” 

You waited a beat, but eventually nodded. “But, you can’t- can’t leave me, Matty. You can’t leave.” There was a tone of worry to your voice, and he felt you tense up just a smidge. 

“No, not going anywhere,” he quickly reassured you, brushing his fingertips down your spine. “If I have to move away, it will only be for a moment, okay? Just so that the doctor can check up on you and the baby. I won’t leave this room. I promise. But I can tell you’re tired, and you need sleep.”

“Can you lay with me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Of course,” Matt agreed, sliding down to slot himself against you, tucking your head underneath his chin. He ran his fingers through your hair, careful not to snag on the dried blood or stitches at your hairline. “Close your eyes. I’ll watch over you, and the little one.”

You obeyed, burying your nose in the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent. A wave of calm washed over you, and you hummed softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than you could ever know.”

After a while, you did start to nod off, but not before hearing Matt’s soft voice, pitched low and gravely in his throat.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, The Lord is with thee. 

Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. 

Holy Mary, mother of God, 

pray for us sinners, 

now and at the hour of our death.”

Then, even softer,

“Don’t make me lose them.”

-

True to his word, Matt didn’t leave your side for more than the length of time it took for doctors and nurses to check in with you. Eventually, your contractions came less frequently, until they slowed to a stop. The doctor even noted that you had not dilated, which he told was a promising sign. The baby’s heart rate went back to normal, but the doctor still wanted to keep you for a few more hours, just for observation. Claire eventually popped in, but you were already asleep again, resting comfortably in Matt’s arms as he laid next to you.

Claire raised an eyebrow, giving Matt a once over. “Pretty sure sharing a bed with a patient is against hospital policy.”

Matt smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was far too tired for that. “Since when do you care about policy?” He kept his voice low, to avoid waking you from your light slumber. Your warm breath fanned against his neck.

Claire snorted. “You got me there. Listen, my shift is over in a few minutes. Do you want me to call Foggy, let him know what happened?” 

Matt sighed, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face. He needed sleep, desperately., but not more than he needed to make sure you were okay. “No, I’ll do it. He’ll think I’m dying if he gets a call from you. Thanks, Claire.” 

“No problem. Keep me updated on everything.”

“Will do.”

He waited for thirty minutes after Claire left, reluctant to let you go for even a second. But the sun was starting to warm the walls, and he knew Foggy would be calling him within the hour to see why he was late. He eventually convinced himself that your breathing had slowed enough that you were in a deep sleep, and he could safely retreat from next to you without causing you to wake. 

He slipped out of the bed slowly and carefully, ignoring the way his muscles screamed from how long he’d been still, how overtaxed his body had become. He padded over to the corner of the room, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. His thumb swiped over the screen, the automated voice reading his contacts at a low volume, until he found Foggy’s name. He hit send. 

It rung three times before Foggy picked up. “Well good morning, sunshine! Let me guess, late night? Want me to pick up some coffee?”

“Hey Fogs,” Matt greeted tiredly, careful to pitch his voice low as to not disturb you. “I won’t be in today.”

“Ugh, Matt, you can’t keep doing this when we have a big case like Mr. Taylor’s! How bad are you hurt?”

Matt’s focus flicked to you for a second before he answered. “I’m fine, it’s not me.”

“Then why the hell are you leaving me with this mountain of paperwork to do by my- wait, it’s not you? Then who is it?” The familiar sound of their office door came through the speaker, and Matt could hear Karen greeting Foggy faintly. 

Matt breathed your name, his chest clenching as he remembered the echo of your scream the night before, the terror that ripped through him in that moment. “We’ve been in the ER all night. She should get to go home within the next few hours, but they’re monitoring the- the baby.”

“Jesus, Matt! Is she alright? Is the baby okay?” Foggy’s voice has pitched up, thin with worry. 

Karen’s voice piped up in the background. “What happened?!”

Matt let a sigh escape his lips, and he reached up to dig the heel of his hand into his eye. “Just put me on speaker, Foggy.”

The was a pause, then a click. When Karen spoke up again, her voice was clearer. “Where are you?”

“Still in the ER,” Matt murmured. “There was a robbery last night on 10th Avenue. I’m assuming it made the news this morning.”

“Shit, yeah, Marci had it on this morning while I was getting dressed. They said a woman had been assaulted, but I never thought… that was her?” Foggy’s voice sounded tight, like he was on the verge of choking. “Please tell me she’s okay, that the baby is-“

“They’re both okay,” Matt interrupted quickly, and he heard Foggy and Karen sigh with relief. “It was, um… touch and go there for a while with the baby, though. The stress of it all caused preterm labor to start, and the doctors said the baby was in distress. Once they were able to lower her blood pressure, everything stopped.”

“But everything is okay now, right? You don’t have to worry about it restarting?” Foggy asked. “I don’t know how this ‘having a baby’ stuff works medically.”

Matt huffed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’ll need to take it easy for a while, avoid stress, but everything should be alright from now on.”

“Please tell me you were there,” Karen cut in. “Tell me you gave hell to the guy who did this.”

“I took care of it,” Matt confirmed, a sudden edge to his voice. A flash of memory appeared to him, the wet sound of his fists colliding with Javi’s bloody face. 

“We don’t have enough money for bail, Murdock, so please tell me you were wearing the devil suit,” Foggy groaned.

“If that wasn’t the case, I’d be calling you from jail, Foggy.”

“Just checking!”

Karen’s soft laugh sounded from the speaker. “Well Foggy and I will handle everything at the office. Make sure you keep us updated, let us know when you get home, and if you’re up for visitors.”

“I can bring pizza!” Foggy chimed in.

“I’ll keep you both in the loop,” Matt promised. “Karen, email me the reports-“ 

“Absolutely not, Matt. Go home, get some rest, and take care of your family. Work will still be here tomorrow for you.”

“… Fine. Talk to you both later.”

-

Matt’s hands didn’t leave you until you were both safe inside your shared apartment again. He had held you the whole taxi ride home from the hospital, as well as carefully cradled your hip next to him as you walked through the hallways and in the elevator. He even seemed reluctant to let you go once you were inside your home, but did give you some space as you kicked off your flip flops at the front door, and then promptly took them to the kitchen trash bin and tossed them in. They were still covered in sticky, dried slushie and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get that feeling out no matter how many times you washed them. 

Matt stalled in the living room, his head tilted as he considered you from a distance. “Want me to run you a bath?” He asked, noticing the way you shifted uncomfortably and scratched at the dried blood still crusted in your hair.

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Let me just pick out some comfy clothes to change into after, and I’ll be right there.”

You fumbled through the drawers in the bedroom while listening to the water running in the bathroom. Nothing you pulled out seemed to be what you were looking for. It was now the afternoon, and the apartment was warm with the sun rays shining in through the window. You were grateful Matt called your work for you and told them you wouldn’t be in for a few days. Maybe you could convince him to have a summer picnic on the roof, lay on a blanket in the sun and just… relax. A soft kick in your stomach made you pause, and you stilled for a moment with your hand resting below your navel to see if it would happen again. 

That’s how Matt found you as he appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Everything alright?” He asked, a tinge of nervousness seeming through in his tone, lining his voice in the aftermath of everything that had happened.

You looked up at him and nodded. “It’s the first kick I’ve felt since last night. I was starting to get a little worried,” you admitted softly. “And I can’t find anything I want to wear.”

Matt hummed, stepping into the room. He pulled open one of his drawers and pulled out a t-shirt in a dark navy blue with ‘Columbia’ printed on the front. The one you thought his broad shoulders looked great in. “This one is usually one of your favorites.” He offered it out to you with a gentle smile.

“Oh,” you breathed, a grin lighting up your face as you took it from him. “Yeah, this will do. And I’ll just grab a pair of those stretchy shorts I bought the other day.”

A look of realization dawned on Matt’s face. “Those are still in the laundry basket in the living room, I washed them yesterday. I’ll get them for you, you go get in the bath. It’s the perfect temperature right now.”

“You’re the best, Matty,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you passed him in the doorway. 

You’d only been in the bath for a few seconds when Matt nudged the door open, plopping the shorts you were looking for on the edge of the sink. He settled down onto his knees beside the tub, resting his elbows on the white porcelain. Without a word, he reached for your shampoo, depositing some into his palm and lathering it in his hands before transferring the lather to your head. You let out a soft moan as his fingers massaged your scalp, and he let out a chuckle. “Feel good?”

“Heavenly,” you responded, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“Just let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured, cupping his hand into the water and pouring it over your hair to help rinse. He was careful around the stitches at your hairline, his thumb delicately removing the dried, crusted blood around the area. 

“Baby’s moving again,” you mumbled, resting your hands underneath the curve of your stomach. You hadn’t bothered to open your eyes again. “Probably mad I never got my slushie last night.”

“That’s what you went out for? A slushie?” Matt asked with a scoff. Suddenly the sickly sweet scent he nauseated him made sense.

You nodded, leaning your head into Matt’s hand. “You know, someone at work told me that craving sweet things means I’m having a girl,” you offered nonchalantly, peeking your eyes open to see his reaction. 

Matt paused, only for a moment, before a small lopsided smile graced his lips and he resumed his ministrations. “I’m not sure that’s scientifically accurate.”

You smiled, drumming your fingers against the skin of your belly thoughtfully. “She also said if the heartbeat was over 140 beats per minute, it’s a girl. Do you remember what it was at the anatomy scan?”

Matt’s brow furrowed as he tried to think back. He grabbed a microfiber wash cloth, soaping it up before applying it to your skin. “144, I think? Somewhere around there. I can count it now, if you want me to.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright. Just fun to speculate, I guess.” The washcloth in his hand smoothed over your belly, and you gently guided him to the little thumps right next to your belly button. “See? Little boxer in there.”

Matt smiled, leaning forward and resting his forehead against your temple. He kept his hand where you placed it, relishing in the tiny movements against his palm. His heart constricted painfully as he remembered how close he came to losing it. “Strong like their mommy,” he remarked, something wistful and sad lurking in his tone. “Maybe I’ll take them to Fogwell’s some day, like my dad did with me.”

“You know, little kids aren’t great with keeping secrets. Maybe let’s not teach them that their ‘blind’ dad can fight better than a sighted person,” you pointed out, your nose wrinkling with amusement.

“… Objection sustained,” he relented with a chuckle. He was quiet for a moment, allowing his fingers to trail over your wet skin. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “I don’t know what I would do without you both.”

“Hey,” you breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his jaw. “You don’t have to find out. We’re right here. We’re safe, because of you.”

Matt closed his eyes, a shaky breath expelled from his lungs. His head rested heavily in your palm. “I can’t - I can’t lose you, can’t lose them,” he choked out, a sob stuck in his throat.

“We’re not going anywhere, Matty.” You pulled him close, pressing a searing kiss to his lips. He moaned into your mouth, and you felt hot tears drip against your fingertips. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his. “You’re already such an amazing dad. You kept our baby safe, you kept me safe.”

He sniffled, the scent of your sweet breath filling his lungs. “And I always will.”