Crash

8. LOOK KAREN IS TRYING HER BEST OKAY

Alone in the office, Karen sits, stares at her phone, and wonders exactly how bad an idea it would be to text Frank.

Look. Okay. She knows, objectively, that it’s just gonna add fuel to the fire. That the last thing she should be doing is stirring up shit. Just - there's a lot going on here, alright?

She stares down at the screen. There's only a single message in their history - 'Here's my number' - and she gnaws at her lip. Starts to type, then deletes it. Put the phone down. Puts her head in her hands.

She couldn't sleep last night. Her bed felt too cold and lonely, and she was worked up over her fight with Foggy. When she did manage to drop off she got about three hours, ridden with nightmares, before waking in a cold sweat. Her head's throbbing now; she's jittery and running on nothing but caffeine. Everyone gives her coffee making a bad rap but Matt brews it so dark it literally feels like drinking a heart attack. She supposes he must need it, given that between work and Daredevilling she's not actually sure where he finds time to sleep.

Foggy. Her heart aches. She flips her phone over. It feels like a betrayal. It shouldn't, because... things aren't like that, with her and Frank. He's not the other guy. Foggy would be just as pissed if Matt was hanging out with him.

Except he's not dating Matt, is he? It's not the same thing at all.

She'd been annoyed yesterday. It's stupid, she doesn't know why, just - Matt was gone for so long and she'd really thought that Foggy would listen to reason. It had stung - to realise she didn't know him as well as she thought she did. Had made her for a second feel, absurdly, like the odd one out, like those early days when it was Nelson and Murdock and the two of them had shared jokes, shared history, and she was the new girl. The third wheel.

Joke was on all of them, in the end, when it turned out Matt had more skeletons in his closet than either of them could ever have guessed. When it turned out Karen did, too.

So maybe the joke's just on Foggy.

The guilt bites at her again. She picks up her phone. Stares at the numbers till they swim in front of her. The contact name reads 'Pete Casteglione.' Frank's always been one to take precautions.

Her stomach twists. She feels torn, and hates that she is. Hates they couldn't work things out yesterday. Everything was just - too easy, she should've known it'd all fall apart. But it'd been nice, for a little while, hadn't it? To pretend that she and Foggy could make things work, that it was enough to bond over their past trauma, that they could make each other feel better. A little bubble, just the two of them.

A bubble that Matt and Frank have proceeded to burst. It was inevitable, but she wishes they could've had it just a little while longer. Enough, maybe, to make things work. Their relationship still feels very new and fragile.

They have a history of letting Foggy down. He doesn’t deserve this. But still - she can’t stop herself, has this lingering feeling that Frank is part of this, needs to be part of this - she can’t abandon him, can’t leave him alone, out in the cold. Same way she knows Foggy will never leave Matt, no matter how many times he gets burned.

Maybe, she thinks grimly, this is what it feels like to be Matt. To know you’re making the world’s shittiest decision that will drive everyone else away and be unable to stop yourself anyway.

She pulls up Frank’s number. Starts typing. Pretends she knows what she’s doing here and isn’t just running headfirst and screaming into the first bad idea she sees.

‘Hope you’re okay after the other night. Remember, I’m always here if you want to talk about anything.’

She hits send before she can second-guess herself, then shoves the phone across her desk. Her heart’s pounding and she doesn’t know why. He probably doesn’t even have his phone on him, she thinks, and gets back to her laptop. Pretends she’s not glancing at the phone every two seconds waiting for a reply.

It’s maybe ten minutes before the screen lights up, but she forces herself to keep working, to finish what she’s doing before she lets herself pick it up to check.

‘Thanks Karen. And I’m sorry.’

She frowns a little.

‘For what?’

This time it’s five minutes before he replies, but she doesn’t go back to work, just sits and waits.

‘Disappointing you. I said I was out of all this. I thought I was.’

She’s still thinking about her reply a minute later when another message pops up.

‘Everything’s been strange since I got back to Hell’s Kitchen. I’m still figuring things out. Sometimes I don’t know what’s me and what’s just habit.’

She bites her lip, her heart aching for him. Wonders where he is now - in his car? At home? On his lunch break at work? Imagines him hunched over his phone, trying to figure out how to put into words the turmoil he must be feeling.

‘Frank… I know you. You have a good heart.’

‘Karen…’ Even across text, it sounds pained.

‘It’s true. Matt said you helped him that night. Thank you. I believe you thought you were doing the right thing.’

‘It’s not black and white.’ She can see him still typing, and waits as more messages flood in.

‘I do what’s effective.’

‘A lot of people wouldn’t say I’m right, Murdock included.’

‘How many second chances should one person get?’

She doesn’t know what to say to that. They could start some sort of philosophical debate about this, but she doesn’t particularly want to do it over text. They need to be face to face, so he can look into her eyes and know she means everything she’s saying.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and writes, ‘I’m not giving up on you.’

There’s a long pause before the next message.

‘Thanks. That means a lot - really.’

She tucks her phone away and lets out a shaky sigh, leaning over and resting her head in her hands.

She wants to ask him to visit, but she can’t. Not until she talks to Foggy, at least. And once, she wouldn’t have had any qualms about just going off and doing whatever the fuck she wants, but - not now. She knows that’s crossing a line, and she loves Foggy enough not to do that. She wants to fix this.

But it’s so hard.

She doesn’t want to go into that conversation with her sole goal being to convince Foggy. That’s not fair to him.

At the same time, she knows she won’t stay away from Frank. She can’t. She just - needs Foggy to understand what she sees in him. How important he is to her. Because even now, after their little text conversation, she’s settled a little. She thinks, he’s somewhere out there too, and they’ve both got rough edges but they’re both still here. Both still okay.

If she believes in him, that he can do this, that he has a chance to come back from the edge and live-

She can believe in herself, too. That she’s not a scared girl anymore. That she’s not just an addict or a killer or the woman who drove all her own family away from her. She’s someone who deserves to live, to be loved, just like he is.

She feels upset suddenly, on the verge of tears, but takes a shaky breath and goes to make another coffee and gets back to work - slowly, a little distracted - trying not to think too hard about what she’ll do if this mess doesn’t somehow work out in her favour.

Matt returns to the office first, alone.

“How’d it go?” Karen asks, looking up at him. “Where’s Foggy?”

Matt gives a little smile. His face is hard to read with his glasses on.

“Fine,” he replies, “He just stopped to talk to Brett about something.”

Karen nods. She watches as he heads into his office and then stands there, fussing around with something on his desk. He seems distracted, and there’s something very tired about him - a slow lethargy to his movements. Then again, he always looks exhausted lately.

For a little while, after they put Fisk away again, it’d seemed like he was getting better. They all were. The cuts and bruises healed and he’d been on time to work every day and he’d lost that haggard, gaunt look that he’d had ever since coming back from the dead.

But it didn’t last. He’d plateaued, for a little while, then the slow backslide had begun again. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but she’s worried.

After a second she rises and goes to the door of his office, knocking gently even though he must know she’s there.

“Hey,” she says, “Have you eaten?”

Matt looks up. He shakes his head, hesitantly, and Karen holds out a hand.

“Come on. Me either. Let’s go.”

“I brought something.” It sounds a bit like an excuse, and she steps closer. He looks rattled. She wonders what happened at the meeting. A terrible part of her - a part she’s ashamed of - almost hopes Foggy won’t be back for a little while. She doesn’t want to face him just yet.

You need to stop running away from things.

“Me too. We can still eat together.”

She walks out before he has a chance to refuse. After a second he follows her into the kitchen.

“I’m really into meal prep lately,” she says, taking her lunch out of the fridge. Better to start things off with the world’s most banal conversation.

“You don’t get sick of eating the same thing every day?” Matt asks, which Karen thinks is a little rich coming from the person who makes the world’s most boring fucking sandwiches.

“Sometimes,” she admits, “But it’s just - being organised. It feels good. Everything… everything was just so chaotic, for so long. I like having some sense of order in my life now. A routine is good. Feeling like everything’s lined up and not just spiralling out of control…”

“Stability,” Matt says, his face softening a little, and she nods.

Well. That went from ordinary to deep way too fucking fast. They sit down and start eating in what Karen hopes is a companionable silence. It’s hard to tell with Matt sometimes. There is a thin line between thoughtful and broody when it comes to him.

After a while she notices that, while he’s not glancing at her, mostly because it would be pointless - he keeps hesitating between bites. Like he wants to say something but then keeps changing his mind.

“Spit it out,” she says - Matt raises his eyebrows, and then his sandwich, and she laughs. “Not your lunch, whatever you’re avoiding saying.”

Matt laughs a bit awkwardly. He pauses a moment, then says, quietly, “You and Foggy gonna be alright?”

Karen bites her lip.

“I hope so,” she admits, “But I… I don’t know how to explain things to him sometimes. It’s not his fault, it’s just - a lot of baggage that I don’t wanna load on his shoulders, but I can’t hide it from him either.”

“I feel that,” Matt murmurs - and thing is, he does. He understands more than probably anyone, and she feels suddenly very close to him.

“The problem is, I know exactly why he doesn’t like Frank. If I was Foggy I wouldn’t like him either. And he… he had a point the other day. That we seem to spend all our time convincing him to change his mind and he just has to go along with it. I don’t want our relationship to be like that. But this isn’t something I think I can compromise on. I just feel trapped.” Tears rise in her eyes again and she doesn’t bother trying to hide them. Matt will be able to tell either way. “It’s not his fault, none of it is, and I hate that I’m putting him in this position. So it just - sucks.”

“Foggy loves you,” Matt says softly.

“I know,” she replies, “I do, but he’s - he’s been through a lot. Everyone has a breaking point.”

She says it without really thinking about it, but a look flashes across Matt’s face. Something sad, guilty, something young and terrified. She doesn’t know how to interpret it.

“Sorry for prying,” he says after a moment, like he wants to end the conversation then and there, but Karen shakes her head.

“It’s hardly prying,” she points out. “Our relationship affects you too.”

“It shouldn’t,” he replies instantly, “I don’t want to be involved in it.”

Karen stares at him - startled, a little hurt. Something about the way he said it - curt and halting, like he was trying to shove her away with the words - but his head snaps up as he reads her reaction.

“No, Karen,” he adds, a bit desperately, “I didn’t mean it like that. You two are the closest people to me in all the world. But when it comes to you and Foggy… don’t do anything on my account. I just - I fuck up everything I touch. I don’t want to ruin what you two have as well.”

“You don’t,” she starts, but he holds up a hand.

“I appreciate it, but I do. Look objectively at the last couple of years, Karen, and so much of what went wrong goes back to me. I lied to Foggy for years, I got Fisk on his back by visiting him in prison, I didn’t tell either of you I was alive. Hell, look at us. I’m the reason we broke up. Everything that went wrong, it was all on me. I didn’t tell you I was Daredevil, or about Elektra or the Hand…”

He trails off. There’s a lump in Karen’s throat that’s making it hard to breathe.

She cares about Matt, probably too much. Hell, her insistence on keeping his flat for his inevitable return was objectively pretty unhealthy. And yeah, occasionally it crosses her mind, what if we hadn’t broken up? How would things have changed? How would Midland have changed?

Something niggles at her - something half-forgotten, something he might’ve said that night they got so drunk - but she can’t remember, just knows it’s something shadowy and uneasy. After a moment she swallows.

“I do too,” she whispers, “Honestly, Matt, bad luck and danger seem to follow me everywhere. I got my brother killed, and Ben, and nearly Ellison. But I have to believe that… that it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be happy.”

He gives a tight, unhappy smile.

“Yeah, well. You and Foggy is you and Foggy. You know what they say. Three’s a crowd.”

Again, there’s a note in his voice that’s strange, strained. She can’t figure it out. They’re sitting there, staring at each other in a slightly awkward silence, when the door opens and Foggy comes in.

Karen jumps a little. They both turn, almost guiltily, though Matt must’ve heard him coming - Foggy smiles when he sees them, but Karen knows him well enough that she can tell he’s stressed out about something.

“Hey,” he says.

Karen smiles back. She hates that she feels nervous, unsure where they stand with each other. Matt starts to rise, gesturing for Foggy to sit instead, but Foggy stops him with a raised hand.

‘We’ll talk later,’ he mouths to Karen. She wonders if Matt picked up on that at all, but gives a small nod in return.

“How’d it go?” she asks, now that both of them are back.

“Well, he doesn’t want a lawyer,” Foggy declares, as he grabs his own lunch and drags a chair to join them. “He’s too scared of the Hellhounds. Was very tight-lipped, so we didn’t get much out of him, but we think the Hellhounds are operating from somewhere underground.”

“He didn’t give anything away about how he got dragged into things with them?” Karen asks - Foggy shakes his head, and she sighs. “That’s a bit of a dead end, then. Well, he’s still the only civilian who we can directly tie to the Hounds, so I’ve set up a meeting with one of his close colleagues at the college. Hopefully we can figure out how he ended up on their radar.”

“We should look into the women in his life, too,” Foggy points out. “Surely someone else would’ve noticed by now if one of them was missing.”

“You don’t necessarily need to be holding someone hostage to threaten them,” Matt points out. “But yeah, that’s a good idea. If we can find out who the girl he’s worried about is, she might know something about who’s threatening them.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon drawing up plans, researching - finding as many names as possible that could be new avenues for information. It feels nice, this. The three of them. At least, a bit. Maybe that’s kind of fucked up considering what they’re dealing with here, but Karen can’t help but think that it feels like those early days - all of them working together to investigate something, like when they finally all came together to first take down Fisk, except a bit more low-stakes.

Matt and Foggy don’t seem to think so, though. They’re both a little quiet and subdued, and Karen wonders why they seem so much more worried about this than she is.

Evening falls slowly, the summer sun draining away into the sky, the city settling first with rush hour, and then the gentle quieting as the shops begin to close. They could work through the night, but they’re all exhausted, and Foggy’s the one to finally push his chair back.

“Let’s call it a night,” he declares. “We’ve got a lot to go on.”

Karen nods. Their eyes meet, and there’s an awkward moment in which they both stare at each other, the unspoken questions hanging between them. Are we going home together? Will we talk?

She turns to Matt.

“Are you going out tonight?”

She expects a quick answer, but there’s a very strange moment in which he seems to hesitate, a funny look passing over his face, before he says, “Yeah.”

Karen frowns. They start packing up, and it’s when Foggy’s gone to his office to grab his jacket that she catches Matt by the arm as he starts turning off all the lights.

“Hey,” she says quietly, “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks, and her frown deepens.

“Dodging the question’s really not reassuring, Matt,” she points out. There’s definitely something wrong. He’s not even bothering to turn his face towards her like he usually does, just staring straight ahead. “I’m serious, what’s wrong?”

It takes him a long moment, but when he answers she knows he’s not lying.

“I’m feeling a bit… out of it lately. I… maybe it’s not a good idea to go out tonight. But if I don’t I’ll feel guilty.”

“Oh, Matt.” She moves closer to him, wants to reach out and touch him - cup his cheek, or run a hand down his arm - but in the corner of her eye she sees Foggy emerging from his office, and suddenly, strangely, the motion seems too intimate. She doesn’t know why, it’s not like she doesn’t touch Matt. They both do. But something rings in her head, out of nowhere. Three’s a crowd. It makes her heart sink a little and she can’t explain why. “You don’t have to go out every single night.”

“I can hear it all happening, Karen. Robberies, assaults, not to mention everything the Hellhounds are doing out in the streets.”

“It’s no good if you burn yourself out,” she starts, but he’s already shaking his head.

“I’m okay.” She can tell he’s regretting saying anything. “I’ll just do a short patrol.”

“Hey,” Foggy calls out, coming up to them. “Don’t go underground, alright? Wait until we know more.”

“Of course.” Matt lingers for a moment, like he thinks someone’s gonna add more, then says an awkward goodnight and leaves in a rush, like a startled bird. They’re left standing there staring after him.

“He’s not okay,” Foggy says, abruptly, after an appropriate period of time to let Matt get out of earshot. “He freaked out back at the police station.”

“What?”

“He had a panic attack.” Foggy’s face is tight and drawn. “Cunningham wouldn’t stop going on about how powerful the Hounds are, how they have people everywhere just like Fisk does, and he just - freaked out.”

Karen doesn’t know what to say. She presses a hand over her mouth, trying not to let her worry rise up and consume her. Beside her, Foggy’s fists are clenching.

“This was a bad idea,” he says flatly, “I don’t know if we’re ready to tackle something big like this. Not after Fisk. We need more time.”

She looks over at him. His eyes are shadowed and haunted, the same look he gets at night when he wakes up screaming, rubbing the scar on his shoulder. The lump rises again in her throat.

“Are you okay?” she whispers. She wants to touch him, to hold him, but is suddenly scared.

Foggy shakes his head, his eyes hard.

“Let’s go home,” he says, abruptly. “We need to talk.”

After a very contemplative cab ride back to Foggy’s place, Karen comes to a decision. Something feels disconcertingly formal about the way they enter in silence, put all their stuff down and then sit at the table opposite each other like they’re about to have a business meeting, but she almost immediately reaches out and puts her hand over his on the table.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “About yesterday, and about how everything turned out. I mean it.”

Foggy seems taken aback. He looks up at her and must see in her eyes that she’s genuine. His face softens a little.

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“You needed space. I get it.” A tension seems to melt off her shoulders, just a little. “I shouldn’t have sprung the news that Frank was back on you like that. You had a right to be mad.”

Foggy nods. They sit quietly for a moment, processing, his thumb stroking gently across the back of her hand. She gives him time to think, sits there studying his face. His hair is growing out a little, though nowhere near as long as it was before. A few loose strands hang over his forehead, and with his collar undone and tie loosened, he looks suddenly very young. There are dark shadows under his eyes and a tightness around his mouth, and suddenly she wishes she could pull him close, bury her face in his shoulder, hold him - warm, soft Foggy, who always feels like safety and home - wishes he’d tell her everything will be okay, wishes she could believe it.

“Today was bad,” Foggy says, finally, and runs his hand over his face tiredly. “I… I don’t like any of this, Karen, with the gangs and us looking into it… seeing Matt freak out today really got to me. We need to hold it together, all of us. And I… I need you, if we’re gonna make it through this. I need to know we’re here for each other, because I can’t do this alone. None of us can.”

“Of course I’m here,” she whispers, tears springing to her eyes.

“This thing with Castle,” he says, and he doesn’t sound angry now - just hesitant, and a little sad - “Can you leave it alone?”

“I can’t, Foggy.” She’s getting tearful now, and hates it. It makes her feel weak, and far too vulnerable. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I just - can’t.”

“I just don’t understand why he’s so important to you.”

“I…”

She trails off. She can’t put it into words, can’t find a reason that doesn’t sound totally ridiculous. Frank’s a lifeline in the darkness, but she can’t say why being around him makes her feel safe. Makes her feel like she isn’t alone. And if she says only that, she knows what Foggy will think. What about me? Aren’t I enough for you?

She’s left staring helplessly at him, and his face crumples a little.

“I want to understand,” he urges, “But you’re not giving me much to work with here.”

“I don’t know,” she says miserably, “We just - connected.”

“Connected.”

“I trust him, and he trusts me. After all we’ve been through, that’s hard to come by.” She squeezes his hand tightly; she knows this isn’t what he wants to hear. “Foggy, what are you so scared of? That he’ll hurt me? Because he wouldn’t. He’s never laid a hand on me.”

“No. Not that.”

“Then what? That he’ll corrupt me?” It stings, that he might think that of her, although she has to admit given her history, the idea that she could kill somebody (again) is not out of the question.

“No…”

“Then what?”

This time Foggy’s the one who can’t seem to find an answer.

“I just have a bad feeling,” he says finally, and she shakes her head helplessly. It’s not enough. They both know it.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she says. “Is Frank so important to you that this can tear us apart?”

“Of course not,” Foggy says, but they look at each other and in that second she can tell they are both very uncertain. That they don’t know what will happen if they keep fighting about this, that neither of them sees any sort of compromise on the horizon. And she feels the moment they both give up, just a little.

And she knows then, as usual, that Foggy will be the one to cave. That she’ll get her way. She hates herself for it. She knows suddenly why Matt seems to carry so much guilt around constantly.

“I can’t promise I’ll stay away from him,” she says. “I can’t, and I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Okay.” Foggy sounds very, very tired. “Just - keep me in the loop. That’s all I can ask. Don’t wait for me to have to come and ask questions. Is that fair?”

“That’s fair,” she says, and she moves to his side then and kisses him, and holds him close with her hand in his hair. He rests his face against the crook of her neck and she can feel the heaviness in his shoulders, the faint tremor. All the same - there’s something between them, an invisible wall that she doesn’t know how to knock down. And despite coming to an agreement, she knows suddenly that this isn’t over. That there’s something yet to happen.

So it turns out that it is, once again, Karen who is responsible for the way that the situation next escalates, moving them ever-closer to what is scientifically known as a ‘four-way clusterfuck.’

She’s sitting in her car. Thing is, right, she’s not a lawyer. Didn’t take the bar or whatever. And she’s not a reporter any more (rest in peace her journalistic career). She’s a researcher, she supposes, for Nelson, Murdock and Page. Pretty much a PI, except she doesn’t have a license.

Anyway. It turns out being a PI essentially boils down to being a professional stalker. She stalks people all day online and then she goes out and stalks them in person.

So she’s sitting in her car. She’s spent all afternoon watching one of Cunningham’s female colleagues only to conclude that they are not, in fact, together. Now she’s staking out his mother, hoping to catch some sort of indication that the Hellhounds are around or that she knows about them. She’s pretty sure the woman’s out at work; her car’s been gone all day. Either that or being held hostage in a basement somewhere.

So she’s sitting in her car, eating pringles and really fucking sucking at that Unblock Me phone game, keeping a close eye out for Mrs Cunningham’s car-

When someone raps on her back window and nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

“Je-sus fuck-ing Christ,” she hisses. Her heart jolts; she goes for her gun. It’s like that, these days. A sudden noise, a shadow in the corner of her eye. Dex really fucked her up, sometimes she flinches thinking there’s something flying at her only for it to be nothing. Really sucks to live in a pigeon-infested city, to be honest.

“Karen!”

She twists around and does a double take. It’s Frank who’s peering in the window at her. She rolls it down.

“Frank? What are you doing here?”

“I saw your car.” He hefts a bag on his shoulder; he’s wearing a vibrant orange tradies’ vest. It is not a colour that would really look flattering on anyone, but somehow it still gives her a jolt to see him - a little unshaven, grinning lopsidedly, dusty from construction. “I’m working the site a block down. Was headed home.”

“Wow,” she says, inanely, still a bit lost for words. Her heart’s pounding. She just - hadn’t expected to run into him. Not so soon, not so suddenly. Not when she and Foggy still haven’t properly sorted things out.

There’s an awkward silence. Frank shifts.

“Can we talk?” he asks, and Karen nods. She reaches to open the car door. He climbs into the passenger seat and for a second-

For this stupid little traitorous second she feels schoolgirl-nervous, feels a blush rising on her cheeks. It’s stupid, it’s stupid. It’s just - Frank, Frank who smells like dust and sweat and cheap deodorant. Frank who she can feel the warmth radiating off, Frank who smiles at her now, reaches to steal some of her pringles, his large rough hand brushing against hers. She hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels.

Stop being an idiot. She stares at the stubbled line of his jaw, bites her lip hard, thinks how much Foggy would hate this entire situation and lets the guilt tamp down the butterflies in her stomach.

“How are you?” she asks quietly.

“Been better.” Frank shrugs. “Been worse, too. Hey,” he adds, too gently, eyes too intent, “Sorry for skipping out on you after Father’s Day.”

“It’s okay.”

“Red told you what happened.”

“The gist of it. It’s fine, Frank, really.”

“Been talking to my friend Curtis about it all. He thinks I’m an idiot,” he says, flatly, “But not an irredeemable one.”

She can’t help smiling; she’s glad when he smiles back, too. She’d been worried he’d look broken, after his little slip-up. But it seems, like her, he’s clawing his way back towards being a functional human being through the concrete things. Like a routine, like going back to work, like having a pet waiting for him back home. Those things matter more than any words and platitudes.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” she says, sincerely, and he nods.

“‘m trying. Better than nothing.” He shovels a fistful of pringles into his mouth and stares at the house. “Stake out?”

“Sort of. Waiting for someone to come back.”

“This about the Hellhounds?” he asks - she hesitates, then nods. A shadow flickers over his face. “You safe?”

“Yeah. It’s just an old lady.”

“I meant in general.”

“We’re being very, very cautious,” she says, and Frank nods slowly.

“Good.” There’s something on his mind, though, she can tell - his brows are all furrowed and he stares broodily out at the house. She nudges him with her elbow.

“What is it?” she asks softly. “You’re worried about these guys? You ran into them with Matt, right?”

“Not so much the Hounds I’m worried about,” Frank allows, and hesitates again for a second. When he speaks it’s halting, like an unfamiliar language. “You should keep an eye on him.”

“Who, Matt?” she demands.

Frank nods. Karen’s heart skips a sort of beat. There’s a funny sick feeling to all this. Like bad news she’d been expecting except she isn’t quite sure what it is.

“Why do you say that?” she asks, but before Frank can answer, headlights sweep down the road. They both sit up, watching as a car pulls into the driveway of the Cunningham house across the street. An elderly woman steps out, and Karen frowns.

One arm’s in a sling. There’s an upset look on her face. She hurries to her front door, glancing repeatedly over her shoulder, and lets herself in before slamming the door shut and locking it behind her.

“She’s spooked,” Frank comments.

“She must be the one the Hounds are after. Poor thing,” Karen says, “Probably worried sick about her son. I wonder if she knows he was arrested.”

“You gonna talk to her?” Frank asks, and Karen shakes her head.

“No. Not yet. We need to do this carefully, make a plan. I’ll talk to the others first.” She fires off a text and it’s barely a minute before Foggy replies. “The boys are in the area. They were just talking to a client who works around here. I’ll swing around and meet up with them.”

“I’ll get out of your hair,” Frank says, and starts to open the car door, but before she knows what she’s doing Karen reaches out and grabs his arm.

“You should come with me and say hi to them,” she says, and Frank raises his eyebrows so far they are in danger of flying right off his head.

“Somehow I don’t think Red’s raring to see me. Nelson even less so.”

Karen bites her lip. Wonders how much to share. But what she said to Foggy was true. She trusts Frank.

“Foggy and I… we’ve had a bit of a disagreement lately. I… I think it’d help a lot if he could see you in person. See that you’re back and that you’re - you’re a civilian now, or trying to be. It might put his mind at ease.”

Frank stares at her, and for a second she feels far too vulnerable under his scrutinising gaze. Then he nods.

“If you want,” he says, and she smiles a little.

She tries to pretend she isn’t scared as all hell to text Foggy - ‘Ran into Frank, bringing him along to say hi’ - and puts her phone away so she won’t have to see him reply. She does a rather aggressive U-turn that makes Frank grimace and starts off to meet them.

“So,” Frank says abruptly, “You and Nelson, huh.”

“Yeah?” Karen replies, and tries very hard not to read anything into his tone of voice. “We… tried to date once before. Then things got crazy with Fisk.”

“He treating you right?”

“He’s a good man,” she says, a little defensively.

“Oh, I know he is,” Frank says. “A really good man.” He shifts in his seat, mutters, “Guess I just - didn’t picture it.”

Oh, God. Don’t read into it, don’t read into it. She feels nervous, can’t explain why. She thinks of Frank, holding her close in that hotel after that young soldier took them hostage, after the explosion. Thinks of his breath against her face and his strong, warm arms holding her close. Then her mind darts to Matt, abruptly - the two of them pressed together, curled up in a tomb, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. She remembers how she could feel him shaking, and the rabbit-fast beat of his heart.

“Matt doesn’t wear red any more,” she blurts out, not sure where that even came from.

Frank looks over.

“Yeah, I noticed the distinct lack of obnoxious horns,” he says, and Karen has to bite back a laugh. “Well I ain’t aboutta call him Black.”

“What did you mean? Before. About keeping an eye on him.”

Frank looks uncomfortable. After a moment he shakes his head.

“Nothin’,” he grunts. “Just - I had a shit time taking down the people who killed my family. I figure he had a pretty bad one with Fisk too. Even… even once the battle’s over, that stuff stays with you. I’m out of all that now, or trying to be. But he’s still in the thick of it.”

“I know,” Karen says, then adds, softly, “I’m worried about him.”

Frank casts her a look she can’t figure out, but before they can say any more, she’s arrived back at the bus stop close to the building where Foggy and Matt were just meeting a client. The two of them are sitting there, waiting, and Foggy’s head snaps up when she pulls the car up. The look on his face can best be described as ‘not a happy chappy.’

I did not think this through, Karen realises, grimly.

Frank reaches out and touches her arm. His hand is so warm she can feel it through her sleeve, and she suppresses a shiver.

“You okay?” he asks, and she swallows hard.

“I don’t like arguing with Foggy,” she admits.

“I’ll play nice.”

“Please,” she says, with a strained laugh. She parks and they get out of the car. The other two are rising to meet them.

When Foggy’s eyes land on Frank a series of intense, conflicted emotions cross his face. Matt reaches out and loops a hand around his elbow; to anyone who passes by it probably looks like he wants Foggy to guide him, but Karen sees him give Foggy’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

Frank leans against the car, settles his hands in his pockets, and jerks his chin at them.

“Murdock,” he grunts. “Nelson.”

“Castle,” Foggy replies, voice so tight it’s verging on strangled.

Matt… actually seems remarkably relaxed. He even offers Frank a small smile. This is… unexpected. Karen frowns a little.

“What’re you doing around here?” Matt asks, pleasantly.

“Working construction. Just got off my shift.” Frank nods over his shoulder. “That new car park they’re building a couple blocks away, opposite the hospital.”

“What a coincidence,” Foggy mutters. Frank’s eyes flicker over to him.

“How you been, Nelson?” he asks, conversationally.

Foggy’s eye narrow, like he thinks it’s a trick question.

“Great,” he snaps, “I’ve been fantastic, how about you?”

“Doing alright.”

“Yeah?”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

Karen is just sort of. Dying internally. Why did she think this was a good idea again? She looks over at Matt, and he turns his head towards her and pulls such a horrible face that she has to bite back a laugh. It does brighten her spirits a little, and she steps forward, away from Frank and towards Foggy’s side.

“Hey,” she says, reaching out and touching his hand. “We just saw Mrs Cunningham. She’s definitely the one they’re after. She seemed pretty freaked out, and looked like she’d been roughed up. Should I go talk to her? See if she can tell us anything?”

“She’s not likely to talk to lawyers or PIs,” Foggy replies, thoughtfully. “If Lester’s reaction was anything to go by, she’ll be terrified - especially since he’s already been caught.”

“Sounds like a job for Daredevil,” Frank comments.

Matt nods.

“I can visit her tonight,” he says. “She’s more likely to believe that I can help her than some random law firm.”

“If she doesn’t have a heart attack at the sight of you first,” Foggy points out.

“Hey, I don’t have the suit anymore.”

“Yeah, no, the black mask is still pretty fucking intimidating.”

“So you really are all going after the Hellhounds,” Frank says. He’s looking right at Matt, a funny frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Foggy snaps, “Heard you’ve been after them already.”

“Foggy,” Karen pleads, “Don’t start.”

Frank doesn’t rise to the bait. He just shrugs, still leaning against the car. Still perfectly calm. Karen stares at him, pretty impressed; he usually has a short fuse, and she’d been worried after Father’s Day, but he seems to be keeping himself well in check.

“I’m pretty caught up on what happened since I escaped jail,” he says, “You got shot, right? Then that fuckfest with Fisk. Let’s not pretend like all of us haven’t been through shit. Let’s not act like it doesn’t change us. Some people get jumpy, get a flight instinct; me, I fight. Someone sticks a gun in my face, yeah, I’m gonna shoot to kill. I didn’t survive the war by being shy about pulling the trigger. Sure, I wish it could’ve played out some other way. But it didn’t. That’s just how it is.”

It’s unlike him to be so open, but honestly, Karen could kiss him for at least trying to make Foggy understand. Especially when, a second later, Frank’s face softens a little.

“It’s good,” he says abruptly, “What you’re all doing. Take them down legally. Keep the wheels of justice turning.”

Foggy looks like he thinks Frank’s mocking him. To be fair, it’s such a deeply uncharacteristic thing to say that it’s very possible he is being disingenuous. Or at least just very polite.

Either way, after a second Frank pushes off the car.

“Anyway,” he says, “I’ll be on my way. Need to grab some groceries. See you around, Karen.”

He turns towards her and she steps towards him, and there’s a very awkward moment where she wants to hug him, and he kind of looks like he wants to hug her, but seems hesitant in front of the others. It’s what she’d do if the two of them were alone - especially since they know each other well enough to tell things have been rough lately - but she’s far too aware of Foggy’s eyes on them, and they just sort of stare at each other, too close to be normal, but too much space between them to be intimate.

Then Matt steps forward.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

Frank shoots him a look Karen can’t work out, but she knows there’s something going on between them. It’s a definite secret-message sort of look, which makes no sense considering Matt can’t even see it, but she can read it all over Frank’s face.

Foggy turns to Matt with the most confused, horrified expression she’s ever seen. Matt just stands there staring placidly into the middle-distance.

“We’re done for the day, right?” he continues. “Foggy and I just finished up that other case and you guys mentioned you were going to grab dinner tonight, weren’t you? So I’ll be out of your hair. I’ll talk to Mrs Cunningham later tonight.”

“You should come to dinner with us,” Foggy says.

It is such a transparent attempt to keep him from going with Castle that Frank turns away, hiding a grin so poorly that Foggy catches it and scowls.

“I don’t want to impose,” Matt starts, which Karen knows is his very polite way of hinting that he wants to go with Castle. Foggy knows this. He definitely knows this. His ‘oblivious’ grin is more like a bared-teeth grimace.

“You’re not imposing!” he says brightly, and catches Matt’s wrist. “C’mon.”

“I need to do grocery shopping.”

“You don’t shop at supermarkets,” Foggy fires back.

Are we really gonna stand here lying to each other, Karen thinks, and wonders if she should intervene - but Frank laughs loudly, drawing all their attention.

“C’mon, Nelson,” he says, “Take your girl to dinner. Nice romantic evening, just the two of you.” He looks between the three of them and raises his eyebrows. “Don’t make it a business thing.”

He is definitely being mocking now, and Foggy scowls.

“It’s not a business thing,” he snaps, “And it’s certainly none of your business.”

Matt’s standing uncomfortably in the middle of the three of them. After a second he gently detaches Foggy’s hand from his arm.

“It’s fine, Fog,” he says, and squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll call you tonight.”

Foggy stares at him helplessly. After another moment of very strained silence, Frank turns, hands in his pockets, and strolls off. Matt turns to Karen, and for a second-

For a second, she knows he’s studying her. Trying to figure something out. She just can’t tell what it is.

Then he turns and walks off after Frank, jogging a little to catch up with him since there’s no one around to see. Karen turns back to Foggy. His fists are clenched.

“Foggy…” She reaches out and cups his cheek, turns his face towards her. “He’s trying. He really is. I just wanted you to see for yourself. No more lies, remember? He really did just run into me. Was it a terrible idea?”

Foggy deflates a little.

“No,” he admits. “Hanging around Matt has really honed my lie detecting skills. I actually do believe he’s trying. Problem is, trying doesn’t mean he’ll succeed. We couldn’t stop Matt being Daredevil. What makes you think Castle will be able to stop being the Punisher?”

Karen bites her lip.

“I believe in him,” she murmurs, and Foggy looks away.

“Let’s hope that’s enough,” he mutters. “The hell does Matt want to talk to him for? They’re not even friends.”

Karen shrugs. Foggy still doesn’t look happy. She loops her arm through his, tries to pull him close, but he’s distant, and she bites her lip.

“What is it?” she urges - he turns to her then. The same scrutinising look Matt had on his face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Something else about Castle?” she asks - he hesitates, and looks like he’s gonna say something else, then shakes himself, seeming to think better of it.

“Nothing,” he repeats, and takes a deep breath. “Nothing, I hope. Come on. Let’s go to dinner.”

She frowns - but things are fragile, and she doesn’t want to push. She will take small blessings; let them, for now, pretend things are fine. And she shoves away any curiosity about the other two and what they’re doing, any regret. She’s glad Matt went off with Frank. She and Foggy need this alone time. Need it to be just the two of them.

Because that’s what it is, at the end of the day, what this is. Just the two of them.

9. IN WHICH FRANK CONSIDERS WHETHER VIGILANTISM SPARKS JOY

Frank’s not jealous. Shut up. We’re not talking about this, okay? It’s not his fault if Nelson’s all touchy about Karen. And it’s certainly not his fault if Foggy’s gonna get all weird and possessive over Murdock, like, chill the fuck out, just take your girlfriend to dinner. Frank’s not trying to steal anyone’s best friend.

That being said. Matt is kind of trailing along after him like a lost duckling. This development is… concerning.

“I assume you’re not actually shopping and just wanted to talk about something,” he says.

Matt nods. And thing is, usually Frank would be, like, get the fuck away from me. In-costume, Murdock’s a magnet for trouble, and out-of-costume he is apparently a magnet for depressing personal drama. But the other day? When they were hanging out and eating noodles and skirting around the fringes of getting all deep and meaningful?

It wasn’t terrible. And sue Frank, he hasn’t got many friends.

Murdock’s alright. He doesn’t ask too many stupid questions and he hasn’t been all preachy lately and-

And maybe Frank’s a little too invested. Maybe he’s seen too many broken soldiers, maybe Murdock’s high up enough on the list of people-he-doesn’t-totally-hate for him to want to make sure he’s okay.

“Your buddy’s pretty fucking protective,” he can’t help commenting, when Matt doesn’t spit out whatever he wants to say.

“Foggy?” Matt pulls a complicated sort of face. “I’ve… given him a lot of reasons to worry.”

Okay, that’s fair, considering the glaring reasons Frank knows about that even Foggy doesn’t. He feels himself soften a little.

“He worried I’ll corrupt you?”

“Something like that,” Matt says. “Right now I’m more worried about corrupting you.”

Frank glances at him quizzically.

“The fuck’s that mean?”

Matt bites his lip. He looks almost guilty.

“I wanted to ask you something about the Hellhounds,” he says slowly, “But if you would rather be left out of it entirely, I don’t blame you. I’ve already dragged Foggy and Karen into this. You’re the last person who needs to be pulled in as well. So feel free to tell me to fuck off if you want.”

Frank stares at him. He’s sure Matt must be able to tell that his heart’s squeezing painfully in his chest.

He’s been thinking about this.

Since the other day, he’s had a lot of time to reflect. He’s talked to Curtis. He’s talked to David, even. Usually he wouldn’t, would just let himself spiral in isolation, but he is actually trying, lately, and trying involves reaching out to his friends when need be. It took a while to get past that mental block. But he’s glad he did, now.

David had been surprisingly blase about it; then again, he’d had no qualms about teaming up with the Punisher and letting him run riot when it suited his own purposes, so probably not the best moral compass Frank could’ve found.

“It’s not like you went on a rampage,” he’d said, and Frank honestly has to admit, that’s true. It wasn’t a rampage. It was pretty clear cut self defence. It’s not like, when they were spying on the Hounds, he went and crashed their meeting with a semi-automatic. That would have been Punishing with a capital P.

Does he still feel bad about it? Sure. But he isn’t quite as panicked about the idea that he’s got no self control.

“Ask away,” he says.

“You sure?”

Frank casts him a dirty look.

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure,” he says, and Matt nods.

“The Hellhounds are underground. We figure they’re using the subway tunnels. They supposedly have a lot of people in a lot of high up places, and are holding enough people hostage - or at least threatening them - to have a pretty solid civilian base under their control. Problem is, we don’t know what’s true and what’s rumour. How would you approach this?”

“Assuming no killing’s allowed,” Frank says, with something like amusement, “You sure I’m the best guy to ask about this?”

“You’re efficient,” Matt replies, “I need to take them down quick. Not give them time to recover. You wiped out three gangs in just a couple months, on your own.”

“Had machine guns on my side, though,” Frank says, “Ever heard of World War I?”

“Look, just give me something to work with, here,” Matt says, and Frank nods.

“Okay. First off, the actual Hellhounds aren’t that big. They’ve been absorbing other gangs and that means that a lot of their folk aren’t actually loyal to them. Probably a lot of dissent simmering in the ranks. Once you get some momentum going, they’ll crumple like a tower of cards. But your first move’s gotta be big. I’d set a trap.”

“A trap.”

“Yeah. Underground, right? Like rats? So run them out of their hole. Take out the tunnels.”

“You mean collapse them. Blow them up,” Matt says, and stops walking. He looks troubled. Frank turns to him.

“Exactly. There some moral problem with that I don’t know about?”

Matt swallows hard.

“Not a moral one,” he says. “Would I have to be underground to do that?”

“You’ll have to do recon underground, but the great thing about explosives is usually you don’t want to be near them when you pull the trigger,” Frank says drily. As if Murdock’s not smart enough to know that - what’s going on here? “What’s the issue? Claustrophobic?”

“Oh, a little,” Matt snaps, “It’s just this entire building fell on me one time.”

Frank freezes. Shit. He had not quite put two and two together when they were discussing that. And thing is, he gets it, like, he’s not ever going near a fairground again. It’s no joke, what those big moments of trauma can do to you. And the last thing he wants is for Matt to freeze up in a crucial moment.

“So we combine Plan A with Plan B,” he says, steadily - Matt relaxes a little when he realises Frank’s not about to dig deep on that last comment.

“You have a Plan B? What, you’ve been thinking about this?”

“It’s all over the news. I made some theoretical plans,” Frank says. “A monopoly on power’s not good for anyone. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that shit. Find the biggest gang around that the Hounds haven’t got under their thumb and get them to do the dirty work for you. Not what I’d personally do, but it might work for you. Would make it easier to get your hands on explosives as well.”

“How would I stop them killing?”

“You won’t need to. The Hounds outnumber them so they won’t want to get into a fight. Getting them arrested is actually the best way to deal with them right now.”

Matt hums thoughtfully.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment, and Frank waves a hand.

“I’ll be as glad as anyone else when you get ‘em off the streets.”

They keep walking. He thought Matt would go once he got what he wanted, but he seems to be chewing something else over. Frank doesn’t comment.

His mind drifts back to that little gathering of the four of them. He wonders what Nelson would think of Matt coming to Frank for advice. God, that entire series of interactions had just been fucking weird. He glances at Matt, next to him

Usually he’d keep his mouth shut, but they’ve spent enough time together recently that he reckons he can start this conversation.

“It ain’t weird for you?”

“What?”

“Karen and Nelson. Their thing.”

Matt stares at him. Then he frowns a little.

“Well, since you brought it up, I’m gonna take this somewhere personal,” he announces.

“Here we fucking go,” Frank grunts, “You don’t have to. Just don’t fucking answer if you don’t want. I was just curious. Because shit back there seemed kinda weird. He usually invite you on their dates?”

“He just doesn’t like you and you know it,” Matt fires back. “But speaking of which, you know I can tell you’re into Karen, right?

The world drops out from under Frank. This was not a direction he expected the conversation to take. His heart seizes up and he turns to Matt a bit frantically.

“What?” he demands, eloquently.

“Your heart rate rises when she goes near you. Your body temperature rises when you look at her. And I can smell-“

“I do not want to fucking know what you can smell.” God, his body temp must be through the roof right fucking now, like, what the fuck even is this. “That is some creepy ass shit Murdock.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I’m not into her.” He knows it’s a lie as soon as it comes out of his mouth. Matt knows too, and the look on his face says it. “I care deeply about her. We’re friends.”

“Frank.”

“What’s it fucking matter, anyway. I’m not about to try anything. You think I’m an idiot? I know she’s better off with Nelson. Safer. If she’s happy that’s all I care about.”

“That’s big of you.”

“I’m not an asshole,” Frank says sourly, “Not like that, anyway.”

Matt nods. He looks away and Frank can’t help needling him, embarrassed.

“You’re the one she dated, anyway.”

“You’re right,” Matt admits, to his surprise, “I told you already, things are weird between the three of us. You want to know the really fucked up part?”

As soon as he says it his face looks like he regrets it. Frank pounces.

“What?”

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t fucking blue ball me, Murdock, if you’re gonna come out with the fun fact that you can smell my... whatever, then you owe me some sort of embarrassing shit in return. Spill.”

He knows the look on Matt’s face. There’s a train crash coming and he’s the one driving it. Frank likes to call it being morbidly self-destructive.

“It’s Foggy. Not Karen. I liked him even before she came along.”

Frank stares at him. Processes this. Starts laughing.

“Wow,” Matt says, jaw clenched. “Thanks.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Frank says, “Just the situation.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Frank claps him heavily on the shoulder.

“Your entire life is a fucking mess.”

“Thanks. That’s very insightful. I had no idea.”

“Wow. That’s just. But you and Karen?”

“It’s... complicated,” Matt says, and gives a very tired sigh. “But like you said. None of it matters. The two of them are together.”

“You ever tell him?” Frank asks, curiously.

“Who? Foggy? No, he has no idea. And I blew any chance of that when he found out I was Daredevil. Things never really stopped being rocky after that.”

He can tell from the look on Matt’s face that those feelings haven’t gone away. For a second he feels rather sorry for him. Like, that’s rough. In love with both of them. Jesus. He really likes to take it to the next level.

“Well, we’re in the same boat then,” Frank says, “And with my history relationships aren’t - aren’t smooth sailing.”

Matt looks down.

“After Elektra,” he says quietly, “I don’t know if I could even... but yeah. Same boat.”

Well this has been fun. They’ve reached the shopping district now and there are more people around. Matt moves to extend his cane and Frank proceeds to make things awkward by asking, “You needa hold my arm or somethin’?”

Matt casts him a startled look and Frank puts his hands up defensively.

“Just asking. Seen you do it with Nelson. I know you can see or... not-see, whatever. Figured it might be part of your cover.”

Matt is very quiet. Frank wishes he’d never offered. No, he doesn’t mean that. Just - the way Matt’s clearly studying him, picking up way more than Frank can even imagine...

“Thanks,” he says quietly, “Sure. It actually does make it easier; means I don’t have to focus so hard.”

“You know I wasn’t bullshitting back there. I actually do need groceries.”

“I need some space to think,” Matt says, “I’ll tag along. Carry your basket.”

“Using a blind guy as my pack horse won’t get me dirty looks at all,” Frank mutters. He’s surprised when Matt laughs and more surprised when the sight makes something pleased tug in his own chest.

“Don’t pull me,” Matt says, and then his hand is nudging its way around the crook of Frank’s elbow. “Just walk normally.”

Frank nods. It’s weird at first and he doesn’t really know why he hadn’t told Matt to fuck off by now, but these are the life choices he has made. They set off. Matt’s hand is light and warm on his arm and Frank’s way too aware of how close they are.

It’s a few minutes before he works out why this feels so strange. He doesn’t - touch people, not for so long, not like this. Not since he used to hold his wife’s hand.

He’ll hug David and the kids. Sarah will give him a kiss on the cheek. He shakes hands at group therapy and Curtis will give him a clap on the shoulder.

(Karen - Karen will hug him tight, stroke his cheek, rest a hand on his arm, but they always pull away a minute later-)

He discreetly side-eyes Murdock and hopes he won’t be able to, like, hear his eyes rolling in his direction or anything. Studies the sharp, stubbled line of his jaw, the little he can see of his dark eyes past the leg of his glasses.

He’s a good looking guy. It’s a weird, stupid thought but it strikes Frank like a punch to the stomach. Same sort of effortless good-looking that Billy used to be, especially when they were on tour. When they were covered in sweat and dust, when they were dead exhausted and running on fumes and he still looked like he’d stepped off an Abercrombie and Fitch photo shoot. The sort of bloke who lucked out in the gene pool.

Suddenly he wonders if Matt knows he’s attractive. Not like he can sense what’s in a mirror, right? People must’ve told him. People sure told Billy. But Billy-

When they came back home, Billy walked like he knew he was attractive. Billy had fancy hair gel and tailored suits and expensive cologne. Billy was pretty and he knew it, he used it.

The sudden tightness in his chest eases a little. Murdock’s not like that. He hides behind those glasses and the last thing he seems up to right now is laying on the charm. Frank shakes himself, tries to shrug off that feeling he always gets when he thinks about Billy. That sinking stomach feeling, that lump in his throat. Anger warring with grief. Betrayal. Most fucked up of all, the way he misses him sometimes. Misses what he thought they used to have.

Billy, he thinks - and then, with a sudden resolve, you didn’t kill him. You aren’t out of control. You let justice claim him. You can do it, see - play the moral vigilante just like Red does. Take what is owed without giving up your soul.

Matt’s fingers flex around his arm and Frank fights not to jump - out of guilt more than anything. The silence was fine, thoughtful, and he knows Matt can’t actually read minds, but there’s something definitively awkward about the fact that he was lost in thought contemplating how hot the other man is. Like oops, hope you couldn’t smell that, or what fucking ever. Jesus Christ. What’s even happening.

For some unknown reason Matt waits until they’re in the middle of the supermarket pet food section before he decides to get all deep and meaningful.

“Frank,” he says, in such a hesitant voice that Frank can’t even bring himself to make some sort of snarky comment.

“Hm?”

There’s no one else around. The aisle is pretty empty; it’s that sweet spot between harried mums doing an after school shop and everyone else getting off work when the supermarket is relatively quiet. Matt still steps in close, anyway, leans in to murmur.

“I need to ask you one more thing. Sorry, it’s - it’s personal again, and I know you don’t want to hear it, but I don’t know who else will even remotely understand.”

This is officially the most surreal day of Frank’s life. The supermarket lights are bright and white, they’re surrounded by cans of vibrantly coloured dog food-

And thanks to his philosophical contemplations before about the respective brands of attractiveness of Matt Murdock and Billy Russo, suddenly what his senses decide to hone in on is how close Matt’s face is, leaning in to whisper in his ear. He swallows hard and tries not to think of the hundreds of small tells he must be giving off.

“Go ahead,” he replies.

Matt bites his lip. Frank tries not to stare at his mouth.

“Tell me honestly,” he says, “Do you think this - going after the Hellhounds - is a bad idea? After what happened the other night… after Fisk… I’m not exactly at the top of my game. I’m… I have this fear that I… that this might all be too much. That I might just - break down in the middle of all this and fuck everything up.”

“You really think you could stop being Daredevil?”

Matt shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says miserably, “I‘ve tried before, and I couldn’t. But this… I could do what Foggy suggested. Let him pass this on to Brett. See what happens. I’m just - terrified that maybe the cops are in on it. I don’t know. I don’t want to do that. I just - I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing or not.”

Well this is a hell of a conversation to have in the middle of the supermarket. After a second, Frank shakes his head.

“I don’t think you should give it all up,” he says, and means it. “The other night… you had a lapse in judgement. It happens. Who knows, you mighta snapped out of it. But if it’s breaking down you’re worried about, in my experience that’s more likely to happen once the fight’s over. When the adrenaline fades away and there’s nothing to keep you running.”

“Been there, done that,” Matt murmurs, and Frank looks up at him, meets his eyes behind his glasses even if he knows there isn’t much point.

“Look, you’re lucky. You got good friends, good people around you. Lean on them. I’ve tried the lone wolf thing, you don’t get far that way. Let them help you. They want to.”

Matt bites his lip. He doesn’t answer, and Frank turns back to the shelf, starts picking out Pi’s favourites. Something’s nagging at him, same feeling he had back at Karen’s place that night before he went out with Matt.

You really think you can do this? A lifetime of sitting on the sidelines while the others take on these guys? While Karen takes on these guys?

And the question that’s been plaguing him for months now, since the fairground, since Billy, since it was all meant to be over-

Who are you?

“Listen, Murdock…” He can’t look at Matt suddenly. Doesn’t matter anyway, not like Matt’s even looking back. “I talked to some friends of mine ‘bout… everything that happened the other night. Not about your issues,” he adds, when Matt stiffens, “About killing those guys. About how I wanted to do it. Remember what you said to me? About how this stuff’s just - in your blood.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, softly.

“You’re right. But it’s - it’s not necessarily a bad thing. My friend told me, the thing about trying to change is you can’t just throw everything away, or you’ll end up with nothing left. You gotta know what to keep and what to discard. What’s important to you.”

Matt’s quiet a moment. Frank finally glances over at him and finds him grimacing thoughtfully.

“So what are you keeping?” he asks finally, quietly.

“I can’t be a civilian,” Frank replies, and as soon as he says the words it’s like a weight off his shoulders - to finally admit it out loud. “I don’t have it in me. And I can’t exactly join the army again. But I won’t return to being the Punisher. I…”

And here he hesitates, properly, because hardly fucking anyone knows about this who wasn’t there-

But he’s seen Murdock at his worst now. Seen him at his most fucking broken. Somehow, that makes it easier.

“My best friend,” he says, and his voice manages to stay very steady, “Man I loved like a brother. Turned out to be playing me. Turned out to have a hand in what happened with my family. I was gonna kill him. I wanted to. But at the last minute, I - I stopped. Let him live with it. Let them arrest him. Maybe some part of it was for my own sick satisfaction; I fucked him up pretty bad. Death seemed too easy. But I don’t regret it. I don’t regret not killing him.”

Matt takes this little shaky breath that Frank, who is intimately acquainted with everything to do with revenge, suspects has a lot to do with Fisk and how they ended up dealing with him.

“So what do you want to do?” he asks.

“I want,” Frank says, slowly, weighing the words, weighing what they could cost him - but he meant it before, what he said. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure. “I want to find a balance. I want to help you with this Hellhounds thing. Think it’s gonna drive me crazy to just sit back and let it happen.”

Matt looks extremely alarmed, and Frank has to laugh.

“Relax, I’m not saying I’ll go on a rampage. I’m just sayin’ - if you want backup tonight, or when you go in those tunnels… I wouldn’t mind tagging along. We can do it on your terms. No killing.”

There’s a long pause. Frank knows what he’s thinking; it’s an uncharacteristically generous offer. But honestly, setting out the rules like that is as much for Frank’s protection as Matt’s. Truth is, if he goes alone he’s not sure he won’t fuck up and end up doing something he regrets. As long as Daredevil’s there, he thinks things might stay on track.

“You don’t need to prove anything to us,” Matt says finally.

“Maybe I need to prove it to myself.”

Matt nods, slowly.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers, and Frank nods. He turns back to shopping, Matt trailing along after him. Today’s been weird, but honestly-

Honestly, just throwing the idea out there of getting back into it has helped him realise that yeah, actually, he thinks that might be what he wants. He’s been recovering for a while, after everything, but now it’s time to start rebuilding, and there are parts of himself that need to stay. The issue is figuring out how he can keep them, and there’s one thing he’s ready to admit: he probably can’t do it alone.