His Little Miracle

“Sweetheart, we’re going to be late,” Matt called to you, separated by the bedroom door. “Is everything alright?”

You let out a low groan, huffing tiredly as you struggled to bend over to tie your sneakers. As you were nearing the end of your pregnancy, your mobility had significantly lessened. Your belly had grown so much that your walk changed into a waddle, and your back was aching more often than not. You had about a month left to go, but you weren’t sure you could even make it that long. Everything seemed like a gargantuan effort now, with the baby sitting heavily in the bowl of your pelvis and throwing off your balance. 

Eventually you gave up the task, allowing the laces to fall from your grasp. “Matty? I need your help.”

Matt appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, tilting his head as he took in your form sitting at the foot of the bed. You were slightly out of breath, no doubt partially because of the space the baby took up within you, compressing the area your lungs had to expand. He gave you a curious look. “What can I do for you?”

Your lower lip jutted out in a pout and you scowled down at your feet, barely visible to you past the curve of your belly. “I can’t tie my shoes anymore.” Matt shifted, and when you looked up at him, you could tell her was barely containing his laughter. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Matthew!”

That caused him to lose his carefully crafted façade, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled, having the decency to look mildly ashamed, and he moved forward to kneel at your feet. He made quick work of tying your shoes, making sure to leave a bit of room in case your feet swelled as they so often did these days. “How’s that?”

You muttered a reluctant thanks, placing your hands on his shoulders to help you balance as you stood. You winced as the full weight of the baby settled into your pelvis. “I can’t believe I have another month of this,” you grumbled, moving your hands to support your lower belly.

“It will be over before you know it,” Matt murmured as he stood, pulling you closer to him. The curve of your stomach prevented the closeness you used to be able to have with him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Come on. We don’t want to be late meeting Foggy and Karen.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re just meeting at the office for lunch. What’s the big deal if we’re a few minutes late because I couldn’t tie my own shoes?”

Matt smirked, pulling you by the waist towards the door. “We’ll we don’t want the food to get cold.”

-

“Surprise!”

You startled as you opened the door to the office, the sound of confetti poppers and yells filling your ears. That’s when you noticed the pastel colored balloons, and the banner spread over Karen’s desk that read ‘Baby Shower’ in a whimsical font. You looked up at Karen and Foggy, a confused but amused smile spreading across your face. “So this is why Matt was rushing me. But… it’s just the four of us?”

“Well we know you’re not a huge fan of being the center of attention, so we thought we’d at least keep it low key,” Karen explained, rushing forward to pull you into a hug. Your smile broadened as you wrapped your arms around her in return. “A few people sent presents, though.”

“And Marci would be here, but she got pulled into court this morning,” Foggy explained with a shrug. “Turns out when a high profile client wants to make bail, they can summon you like a genie whenever they want.”

“Well those high profile clients of hers keep food in your fridge, Foggy,” you said jokingly, pulling away from Karen, only to get enveloped in Foggy’s hug next. 

“No, her clients pay the electric bill. My clients bake pies for my fridge,” Foggy corrected with just as much snark.

“And give us chickens,” Matt added. 

“Which you give to your butcher brother,” Karen contributed.

“Alright, no more work talk!” Foggy decreed, pulling away and making a sweeping gesture at the conference table that had been moved out next to Karen’s desk. “Let’s eat, and then we can open presents for the little Murdock.”

The four of you ate and chatted for nearly an hour, just enjoying each other’s company. Matt sat close to you, his hip bumping yours, his arm snaked around your waist the whole time. His thumb ran soothing circles on your belly through the denim overalls you wore. Once all of the food was cleared away, Karen brought over a stack of gifts, plopping them down in front of you on the table.

“Since when do we have this many friends?” You asked jokingly, elbowing Matt in the side. 

“We’ll one of them smells like Foggy’s mom’s perfume, so I think one is from her,” Matt said, tilting his head as he tried to sense the rest of them. “Is that… alcohol on one of them?”

“That must be Jessica’s gift,” Foggy said with a snort, passing it over to Matt. “She said it was specifically for you.”

“For me?” Matt questioned as he began unwrapping the brown paper around the parcel. When he finally got it open, his brow furrowed as he pulled out a bundle of gray fabric. His fingertips brushed across a card, and he handed it to you to read.

“It says ‘Hopefully your baby looks less like an asshole in a scarf than you’,” you read, your face contorting with confusion. Matt barked out an incredulous laugh beside you, his hand holding up the small scarf for you to see. “Am I missing something?” You asked, still bemused by the note. At least the scarf looked soft and would keep the baby warm in the winter.

“I had to borrow her scarf once as a replacement mask, to hide my identity when I didn’t have the suit with me” Matt explained, running his fingers over the fabric fondly. “She said I looked like an asshole wearing it, and I told her it was her scarf. Seems like she hasn’t forgotten.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile crossed your face as you took the scarf from him. “It does get ridiculously cold in the winter. It’ll be nice to be able to keep the little one warm.”

Matt nodded in agreement, reaching out to pick up the next package. It had similar brown paper as Jessica’s, and when he handed you the card from the top, you opened it to find just a simple ‘From Luke’ written on the inside. Matt pulled out a pair of tiny boxing gloves, clearly meant for a child. His fingers felt across the smooth leather, and you could see a tender smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I had a pair like these when I was a kid. After I went to St. Agnes, I never saw them again,” he admitted, his voice laced with fondness and a hint of sadness. 

“You can keep those in your trunk with your dad’s things, until they’re old enough to join you at Fogwell’s,” you said, giving Matt a bright smile and bumping your shoulder against his. “They’re already getting plenty of practice beating me up. It’ll be nice for it to be you for once.”

Matt chuckled, reaching down to pat your belly. “It’s not their fault they’re running out of room in there. Got to stretch out somehow.”

“How many days left until the due date?” Foggy asked, nodding towards your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet little Franklin.”

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand on top of your belly. “We told you, Foggy, we’re not naming the baby after you. We already have a boy name picked out anyways.”

“Which you refuse to tell us what it is,” Karen mumbled, jokingly bitter. 

“Good thing it’s only four more weeks until you can find out,” you replied. “At least if the baby is on time, which isn’t a guarantee.”

“Hey, be grateful you aren’t carrying a Nelson baby! I was ten pounds when I was born a week and a half late,” Foggy said, shaking his head. “My mom never lets me forget it.”

You involuntarily winced at the thought of pushing out a ten pound baby, and then nodded your head at Matt. “Maggie said Matt was on time and weighed almost nine pounds. At least he was cute in his baby pictures, all chubby like that.”

“I want to see cute baby Matt!” Karen said gleefully. “Please tell me you kept the pictures.”

You laughed and pulled out your phone. “I have them saved in my gallery,” you said, but then suddenly your phone was snatched out of your hand and being pocketed by Matt. “Hey!”

“Karen does not need to see me in the bathtub,” Matt grumbled, although there was a teasing smile on his lips.

“It’s just baby-you!” You huffed, but quickly mouthed to Karen ‘I’ll show you later.’

“I heard that.”

“Screw you and your super senses!” You said in exasperation, flopping back in your chair. 

Matt laughed and reached forward to grab another gift, sliding it over to you. “You open this one. It’s from Karen.”

“Do I even want to know how you know that?” You mumbled, but stood up to tear open the pastel yellow paper regardless. It was the biggest box on the table, and it was heavy, so you didn’t bother pulling it onto your lap. When you pulled off the top, there was a small library of books within, what seemed like every children’s book from the bestseller list over the past decade. You spotted one of your childhood favorites instantly, and you smiled as you pulled out the colorful ‘Chicka Chicka Boom Boom’ copy from the stack. As you flipped it open, you gasped as you realized each page was imprinted with braille.

“You should be set with bedtime stories for the next few years,” Karen said proudly. “And I made sure both you and Matt could read to them.”

“They’re all in braille?” You asked incredulously, peaking into the full box again. You turned to Matt. “Did you know about this?”

Matt smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Karen had me read a few, just to make sure they were all accurate and the manufacturer didn’t get anything wrong.”

You could feel tears welling in the corner of your eyes and you quickly tried to blink them away. “Karen, this is amazing,” you whispered, not quite trusting your full voice.

“I just wanted little Murdock to love reading as much as I did growing up,” Karen admitted with a shrug. 

“I’m sure they’ll love it,” Matt reassured her.

Foggy pushed forward the last box on the table. “My mom made this. She makes one for every grandchild in the family,” he said, his voice holding a soft fondness in it. “She’s always seen Matt like another son, so she said the baby needed one too.”

You opened the box, pulling out an incredibly soft quilt, squares of neutral-colored fabric arranged in a checkerboard pattern. It matched the crib bedding you had picked out perfectly. “Oh Foggy! Tell her thank you for us, will you? I’ll make sure to send her a picture of it with the crib once we get home.”

Foggy nodded. “And she said once you announce the name, she can embroider it in the lining for you, so it’s personalized.”

“That would be amazing,” you said excitedly. You turned and handed the blanket to Matt. “It’s lined with satin, Matt. You’ll like how it feels.”

Matt hummed as he took the blanket from you, running his fingers over the silky fabric. “This is great, Foggy. I’ll send a thank you card over to her tomorrow, if you don’t mind dropping it off.”

“Of course not. I’d be happy to,” Foggy insisted, waving Matt off. He turned and walked towards his office, which had the door closed. “The last gift was too hard to wrap, so I had to store it in here.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment until Foggy pulled open the door and wheeled out a stroller. You gasped, looking at Foggy with wide eyes. “Foggy! Is that the one I told you was too expensive?”

Foggy shrugged, holding his hands out pointedly at the stroller. “To be fair, it’s from Marci too!”

“Still!” You protested, walking towards the stroller as your eyes scanned over it. “I was just going to go with the cheaper model!”

“That one had crap safety ratings and was way too heavy to maneuver,” Foggy insisted, shaking his head. “And this one has so many cool features! Like cup holders!”

Matt laughed from behind you. “Seriously, Foggy? That’s what sold you?”

“No, what sold me was how much your girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about it,” Foggy quipped back. “And Marci said it looked better than the other one anyways.”

You settled your hands over the push bar, smiling as you looked down into the seat and realized that your baby would be nestled there in just a short while. “You still shouldn’t have,” you mumbled, looking up at Foggy. 

“You can’t tell me not to spoil Little Murdock! It’s my job as Uncle Foggy!” He protested with a smile. 

“And my job as Auntie Karen,” Karen added.

You shook your head, a warm happy feeling blooming in your chest. “You guys are the best.”

-

A week and a half before your due date, you found yourself unable to sleep, pacing the kitchen at nearly two in the morning. Matt was off galavanting around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen in his devil suit, making his city a better place. You were waiting for a cup of tea to seep and wincing as a practice contraction twinged in your lower belly. You’d been scared when you first felt them, the deep pains clenching your middle, but the doctor reassured you that unless they were consistent, it wasn’t real labor. You’d been experiencing them on and off all day, but they hadn’t stayed around long enough for you to call it labor yet. However, the cramps made it nearly impossible to sleep. Every time you were close to drifting off, a clench in your gut would bring you back to consciousness. Hence the pacing and the tea. 

The groan of the metal rooftop door caught your attention, and you shuffled towards the bottom of the stairs with your mug to greet Matt. “Hi Matty. How’d tonight go?” You murmured, suppressing a yawn. 

His heavy footfall paused at the top of the stairs, and you could hear his ragged breath all the way at the base. You couldn’t quite make out his silhouette in the shadows of the upper level, but his strained voice came from above. “You weren’t supposed to be awake.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you squinted up at him, trying to map out his form against the darkness. “What? What are you talking about?”

Matt resumed his movements, but they were off kilter, his shoulders kept stiffly lopsided as he made his way down the stairs. You realized that he was carefully gripping his side, and as he reached the bottom steps, the light from the billboard outside illuminated the sheen of blood coating his suit, oozing out from between his gloved fingers. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you rushed forward, placing your mug on the step quickly before reaching for him, hands fluttering over his form. Panic was gripping your chest, and your heart pounded loudly in your ears, desperate to escape its cage. “Jesus, Matt! What happened?”

“Bullet cracked the plating, managed to slip through,” Matt grumbled through gritted teeth, reaching up with his less-bloodied hand to shed his mask, letting it clatter to the floor. His hair stuck up, shiny with sweat and a bit of blood at his hairline. His breath was still coming in short gasps, clearly trying not to inhale fully. “What are you doing awake?”

“Why the hell does that matter?” You bit out, finally deciding to help unclasp his suit. You needed to see how bad it was, how much he was bleeding, what you needed to do to help. You wondered briefly if you should just run to your phone to call Claire. Your fingers shook against the chest plate of his suit, and you cursed as you fumbled with the attachment points. “You were shot!”

Matt sucked in a sharp breath as you finally managed to get the top part of his suit open, the fabric pulling away from his body harshly. “It was a clean shot, so you don’t need to go fishing for the bullet. I think it’s still stuck in my suit though,” Matt admitted, carefully shrugging his shoulders out of the sleeves and allowing the suit to drape around his waist. Sure enough, a smashed bullet clinked on the floor, released from the confines of the fabric. There was smeared blood coating his side, but there was a clear entrance wound just underneath his last rib on his left. 

Despite your panic, you didn’t hesitate to rush back to the kitchen, reaching under the sink for the large first aid kit that was kept there. So many thoughts were rushing through your head, but you’d been through enough of these situations with Matt that your body was able to autopilot what was needed. However, that didn’t stop the anger starting to heat your chest, flowing through your bloodstream, burning through your limbs. You tried to contain it as you brought the kit over to the coffee table, but between your lack of sleep and soreness in your lower back, you were lacking your usual calm filter. “What the hell happened out there, Matt?! You promised me you wouldn’t be reckless!”

“I wasn’t,” Matt insisted as he shuffled over to the couch, carefully lowering himself with a hiss. “Not on purpose, anyways. I thought I was clear, I thought I could make it.”

“Make it where?” You asked curtly as you perched on the couch next to him, pressing a clean rag to his wound and pressing firmly to slow the blood flow. 

Matt visibly swallowed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the cushions. He was making a conscious effort to slow his breathing, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “They had a kid. A young boy, maybe around four years old. Son of some important executive they were trying to blackmail. I… I was trying to get to him, get him out of there. He was crying, and it was so loud, and I couldn’t… I didn’t notice the gun, not at first, not quickly enough. At least I saved the kid.”

Despite the red hot anger clouding your vision, your heart clenched at the thought of a young boy being held captive just for the sake of blackmail. That feeling was fleeting though, as Matt’s blood soaked through the rag and leaked warmly into your palm. That rage bubbled up to the surface again, along with a fresh cramp in your abdomen that made you grit your teeth. “And what about our kid, Matt? What about our baby?” You snapped, your voice biting against the quietness in the apartment. “If this bullet had hit any other way, you would have been dead. And then what, hm? Our baby just grows up without a dad?”

Matt’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a breath. “Don’t start.” His voice was clipped, lacking your passion but firm all the same.

You scoffed, staring up at his face in disbelief. The muscles in your belly were still tense, gripping like a vice around your middle, but you were too heated to give it any attention at the moment. “Don’t start? Don’t start? Excuse me for caring about the future of our unborn baby, Matthew!” Your tone was raising, overwhelming the space, taking up a deafening presence. “Excuse me for hoping that you stay alive long enough to meet them!”

Suddenly Matt stood up, pushing away from the couch and stalking off a few feet away from you. “And what about the boy I saved, huh? Did you want me to let him die?” His voice now matched yours in pitch, his hard gaze focused just to the left of your head.

“Of course not!” You cried in exasperation, throwing your hands up, allowing the bloodied rag to slip from your fingers. The pressure in your stomach increased, and your breath caught briefly in your throat. Still, you continued, the crescendo of your anger reaching its peak. “But you need to be smarter than that, Matt! You need to stop rushing into things without thinking first!”

“If I had waited any longer, the boy could have been shot instead!” Matt seethed, not caring anymore about the wound in his side, achingly open and needing to be stitched.

Abruptly, before you could respond, the pain in your belly increased, and it knocked the wind out of you, causing you to double over with a whimper. The tension in the room dissipated in that instant, sliced through like a knife and crumbling down. Suddenly you could feel Matt’s hands on you, light pressure on your waist, his breath ragged in your ear. “Sweetheart, what is it? Are you okay?”

“Practice contraction. Been having them sporadically all day,” you admitted through gritted teeth, holding a finger up to let him know to give you a minute. You dragged in a few breaths before the pain subsided, and your body slumped against the base of the couch. You looked up at Matt with tired eyes and let out a heavy sigh. All of the fight in you had left your body, and you were just left with exhaustion, the ache of it clear in your expression. “Just sit down so I can stitch you up.”

Matt shook his head, swallowing down the knot in his throat. “No, you need to rest. I’ll call Claire.”

“Don’t bother her, Matt. I’m awake, and I’d rather not have you continue to bleed out while we wait for her,” you grumbled, reaching out to pull on his elbow. “Don’t fight me on this.”

He hesitated a moment more before relenting, sitting on the couch with a soft grunt. You got back to work, threading the needle with practiced ease and beginning to pull together his flesh. You worked in silence before Matt’s quiet voice broke it. “I was thinking about our baby.” You looked up at him curiously before he continued. “When I heard that boy’s heartbeat, so quick and small, all I could think about was how it sounded like our baby’s. I didn’t - he wasn’t just some little boy I didn’t know, not in my head. All I could picture was our baby, small and scared and in danger, and I couldn’t-“ his voice broke, his lip quivering as he fought back the tears welling in his eyes.

You shushed him, taking a break from your stitching to reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb smearing blood across his skin. “It’s okay, Matty. I’m right here, the baby is okay. Can you hear their heartbeat?”

Matt’s head tilted, leaning further into your palm as he honed in on the flutter located in your belly. He reached out with gentle hands, caressing the heavy curve of your bump.“Yes,” he breathed, feeling hot tears leak down his cheeks in relief. 

You smiled encouragingly, even though your own tears were welling in your eyes, making them shine in the blue and pink lights coming from the billboard outside. “Everyone is okay. We’re all safe. Let me finish this up and we can get you cleaned up and in bed. How does that sound?”

Matt nodded eagerly, desperately, and you continued your work as quickly as you could while still being thorough. You had him scoot forward so that you could stitch up the exit wound as well. When everything was over, you sat back and looked at Matt’s body, covered in blood and sweat and grime. You didn’t even want to put gauze over anything until he was clean, but there was no way a few wet rags would be enough for this mess. “You need a shower.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand. “I’m tired and it will be quicker. I’ll even join you, if that’s what you want.”

And that’s how the two of you ended up in the shower at 3 in the morning, huddled under the warm water as it pooled in pink  and red puddles near your feet. Matt’s arms encompassed you, holding your back flush to his chest, his head tucked in the nook of his your shoulder. The sound of the water almost covered his quiet “I’m sorry” mumbled into your skin. 

Your body sagged heavily and you let out a sigh, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too, Matt. I just hate it when you come back hurt. I can’t lose you,” you breathed, closing your eyes to stop the burn of fresh tears making their way to the surface. “I need you. Our baby needs you.”

“I know. I can’t afford to make mistakes like that anymore,” he admitted, his hands traveling down to cup the bottom of your belly and lifting slightly to ease some of the strain on your back muscles, causing you to let out a groan as he shared in the burden of the weight. “I need to be here to take care of you, and our baby. I won’t leave you to do this on your own.”

When you both were finally clean, you made sure to dress Matt’s wounds and made him promise to meditate the next day and take the night off, if only to have his suit repaired before he went back out in it. You didn’t bother to put on a fresh pair of pajamas before you slid into the silk sheets of your bed, and Matt did the same, pulling you close. He placed one hand on your bump, the other on your chest over your heart, feeling it thud softly against his sensitive fingertips. He whispered sweet reassurances to you in the dark, lulling you as you succumbed to sleep.