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Chapter Text

Marci

As soon as she reached her office at Hogarth & Associates, Marci Stahl set down her briefcase and stepped out of her shoes. She crossed the room and settled wearily into the chair behind her desk. It had been a grueling and emotionally draining ten days in the courtroom, but it was worth it. After a two-week trial, the jury needed less than three hours to come back with a six-figure verdict in favor of her clients, Greg and Elise Patterson. They were the parents of a four-year-old boy who went into the hospital for a routine tonsillectomy and died as a result of a massive overdose of morphine. Marci vividly remembered her first meeting with Greg and Elise, still grieving and in shock from the events that had taken their son from them. And she remembered her own eyes filling with tears when she read in the boy’s medical records about the parents’ decision to discontinue life support. The money wouldn’t bring little Noah back, but she hoped the end of the case would help Greg and Elise move forward – if that was even possible.

She and her trial team – all of them women – were going out to dinner tonight. Jeri Hogarth was paying. It wouldn’t be a celebration, exactly. How could they celebrate winning a case that should never have happened? But they all deserved this recognition of a job well done.

Hogarth had reserved a table for them at an Italian restaurant on the top floor of one of the new office towers in Hell’s Kitchen. After they were seated and ordered their drinks, Marci took in the sweeping views of the city, the river, and the lights of New Jersey on the far side. Then their drinks arrived, and she raised her martini glass to the members of her team: Jennifer Chou, the second-year associate who helped work up the case and was second chair at the trial, and Lidia Alvarez and Peggy Moran, the two paralegals who managed the mountain of medical records, documents, and depositions and made sure their witnesses were subpoenaed and showed up when they were supposed to. During dinner, they talked a little about the trial that had just wrapped up, but it wasn’t long before they turned to happier topics.

“How’s Foggy?” Jennifer asked as they were finishing the main course. “Cuddly as ever?” Marci just smiled.

“We miss him!” Lidia chimed in. “Why’d he have to go into practice with his friend, anyway?”

“I know,” Marci replied, “but I think he’s happier practicing with Matt Murdock than he ever was here. That was their dream, you know, since they were in law school. And if Foggy’s happy, I’m happy.”

Marci even believed what she was telling her co-workers, if only up to a point. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit she was less than pleased when Foggy decided to revive Nelson & Murdock. Matt wasn’t exactly a reliable law partner; the Frank Castle trial had proved that. And there was his still-unexplained disappearance last year (unexplained to her, anyway). Foggy was a basket case for months, believing his best friend was dead. Marci still hadn’t forgiven Matt for that. But she knew Foggy’s heart wasn’t in the work they were doing at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz and, later, at Hogarth & Associates, so she accepted his decision. He promised her that, this time, he and Matt would not only help people, they would make a living doing it. And until then, her salary would keep her and Foggy afloat financially. As it turned out, the new firm even had some paying clients, who chose to go with Foggy when he left Hogarth & Associates. One of them was Luke Cage, who was sure to keep Foggy and Matt busy, now that he had assumed the mantle of the boss of Harlem. (Jeri Hogarth was especially put out by that defection).

Distracted, Marci tuned out on the conversation around her for a few seconds. When she turned her attention back to her co-workers, Peggy was saying, “You two are so cute together. Is there a wedding in your future?”

Marci smiled and shrugged. “Probably. Eventually,” she replied.

Lidia chimed in. “What’s he waiting for, anyway?”

“I don’t know. But things have been . . . crazy, you know.”

“You could always ask him,” Jennifer pointed out.

“True.” Marci agreed, “but it would be nice to be asked.”

“I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right moment,” Peggy volunteered.

As the conversation turned to other topics, Marci considered what her co-workers had said. Now that she thought of it, it was a little odd that Foggy hadn’t asked her yet. She still believed she’d done the wise thing when she turned down his earlier proposal, made in the aftermath of his near-death experience at the Bulletin. But she’d been clear that if he asked again, her answer would be different. And since the successful end of the Wilson Fisk shit show, their relationship was better than ever. So why hadn’t he asked again? Well, she reminded herself, both of them had been working insane hours; Foggy was getting Nelson & Murdock up and running, and she had the Patterson trial, not to mention her other cases. Who had time to get married? Surely that was it. But maybe it was time to nudge her Foggy Bear a little.

After dinner, the four women walked along 11th Avenue until they reached 50th Street. Peggy left the group there, heading for the subway station to catch the E train that would take her to her home in Queens. When Peggy was about a block away, Marci heard a scream. Pulling out her phone instinctively, she sprinted down the sidewalk as fast as her stiletto heels would allow. Jennifer and Lidia followed her. When she had covered about half the distance between herself and Peggy, Marci stopped short and started recording the scene on her phone. A man with long, unkempt hair, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, was holding a knife to Peggy’s throat. Then a figure dressed in black, with a black mask covering his head and the top half of his face, appeared next to them, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Let her go,” the masked man commanded, in a low, menacing growl.

“Holy shit,” Marci thought, “it’s Daredevil.”

“Fuck you,” the would-be mugger replied. Daredevil responded by disarming him, so deftly and quickly that Marci wasn’t sure exactly how he had done it. Once he had separated the mugger from his knife, Daredevil pulled him away from Peggy, who ran screaming toward Marci, Jennifer, and Lidia.

“Are you OK?” Marci asked.

“Yes,” Peggy gasped, “thanks to him.” She nodded toward Daredevil before she fell into Jennifer’s arms, sobbing.

Marci tried to reassure Peggy as Jennifer and Lidia consoled her. “It’s OK, you’re safe now,” she said, “you’re safe.” She repeated her reassurances several times, until Peggy’s sobs subsided. Then she looked over at Daredevil, who was violently pummeling the mugger. He stopped only when the mugger was lying on the ground, bloody and unmoving.

The vigilante turned toward the four women, “Is she OK?” he asked. He looked at each of them in turn, seeming to pause when his gaze fell on Marci. Marci nodded. “Call 911,” he said, then darted away to climb a nearby fire escape.

Marci glanced at her phone and noticed it was still recording. She stopped the recording and called 911.

Foggy

“Omigod! You were mugged?” Foggy yelled into the phone. “Are you hurt? Where are you? I’m coming – ”

“Slow down, Foggy Bear,” Marci ordered, interrupting him. “I wasn’t mugged. It was Peggy. And we’re all fine, just a little shook up. Daredevil showed up and took care of the mugger, before anyone got hurt.”

Of course he did. Foggy sent out a silent “thank you” to Matt, then said, “Thank god. You’re sure you’re OK?’

“I’m fine,” Marci assured him. “You don’t need to come down. We’re almost finished here. I’ll be home . . . .” She broke off what she was saying, apparently talking to someone in the background. “OK,” she said, then spoke into the phone. “Wait a minute, Brett wants to talk to you.”

The voice of Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney came out of the phone’s speaker. “Hey, Nelson, your lady’s OK. So are her friends. Thanks to you-know-who.”

“Daredevil, huh?”

“Yeah,” Brett confirmed, then lowered his voice. “She doesn’t know?” he whispered.

“No,” Foggy replied.

“You might want to reconsider that,” Brett advised him. “She doesn’t strike me as a lady you want to keep secrets from.”

“You’re right about that. I just need to find the right time to tell her.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Brett said.

Foggy sighed. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

“No need. We’re just finishing up their statements. Ms. Stahl finished hers a half hour ago, but she refused to leave as long as the others were still here.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“And don’t worry, I’m assigning a uniform to drive all of them home.”

“Thanks, Brett. I owe you.”

“Yes, you do,” the detective told him. “But I’d never hear the end of it if something happened to one of them on the way home.”

It was well past midnight by the time Marci got home. Foggy was on his feet, sprinting to the door, as soon as he heard her key in the lock. She had barely taken a step inside the apartment when he enveloped her in a bear hug. Then he stepped back and held her at arms’ length. “You’re sure you’re OK?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. “But I could use a drink.”

Foggy poured two fingers of vodka for Marci and grabbed a beer from the fridge for himself. When he was settled next to her on the couch and she had taken a sip of her drink, she pulled out her phone. “You gotta see this,” she told him, “I recorded the whole thing.” Foggy watched in silence as the mugging unfolded, and Daredevil quickly put a stop to it. “Pretty impressive,” Marci commented as the video ended.

“You could say that,” Foggy agreed. As he watched the video, he'd realized he had only seen Matt fighting at a distance or on poor quality surveillance footage, never up close like this. It was impressive. Even knowing about Matt’s abilities, he found it hard to believe his blind friend could do what he did. “I’m just glad he was there.”

“Yeah, he must have been somewhere close by,” Marci observed. “He just showed up, out of nowhere.” Foggy wondered if Matt knew Marci would be out late and was on the lookout (so to speak) for her and her friends. He’d have to ask him in the morning.

“And, you know, there was something kind of, I don’t know, weird, about him,” Marci was saying. “I don’t mean he was weird, exactly. But when he was talking to us and asking if we were OK, he kind of stopped and tilted his head in a funny way when he got to me. Like he recognized me, or something.”

“But you’ve never met him, right?”

Marci shook her head and sipped her vodka. “And there’s something else: his voice and the part of his face I could see did seem kind of familiar. But I can’t think of anyone I know who it could be.”

Foggy gave an inward sigh of relief.

“Besides, if he was someone I know, I’m sure I would have remembered that ass.”

Foggy raised an eyebrow and gave Marci a reproachful look.

“What?” she demanded. “I can look, can’t I? Besides, that’s not my favorite ass. It’s only my second favorite.”

“Oh, really?” Foggy asked. “Whose ass is your favorite?”

“Yours, silly,” she told him. “Because it’s attached to the rest of you.”

In response to that, Foggy pulled her toward him and kissed her, with feeling. When he finally raised his head, he said, “You know, I haven’t even congratulated you properly on the Patterson verdict.”

“That was today, wasn’t it?” Marci mused. “So much has happened since then . . . .”

“Jeri Hogarth was right, letting you take the case to trial,” Foggy told her. “You were the right person to try the case, and Jeri knew it.”

“I guess,” Marci said. “But not everyone would let a fourth-year associate try a big case like this. Jeri put a lot of faith in me, letting me do the trial.”

“She did,” Foggy agreed. He took a long drink of his beer, then said, “I don’t think you noticed, but I slipped in and sat at the back of the courtroom one day. It was during your direct of the mom. I was watching the jurors, and some of them were in tears. That might have been the moment when you won the case.”

“Maybe,” Marci said thoughtfully. “Defense counsel didn’t even cross-examine her, you know.”

“That was the smart move,” Foggy said. “No, I take that back; it was their only move.”

Marci nodded. She finished her drink and set the glass down on the table in front of her, then stood up. “You said something about congratulating me properly?” she asked, flicking her eyes in the direction of the bedroom. Foggy got the message. He got to his feet and followed her.

Foggy was late to work the next morning. When he finally arrived at Nelson & Murdock’s temporary work space above Nelson’s Meats, he went straight to Matt’s office. As soon as Matt rose to meet him, he grabbed Matt’s hand and pulled him into a brief, but heartfelt, hug.

“God, Matt, I don’t know how to thank you,” he said when he let go of his partner and friend.

“Everyone’s OK?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Foggy confirmed. “Shook up, but physically OK.”

“Good,” Matt replied as he sat down behind his desk.

“So, Marci said you got there really fast. Were you keeping tabs on her and her friends?”

“Kind of.” Matt shrugged. “I mean, I heard you saying they were going out to dinner in the Kitchen, so I . . . I just wanted to be sure they were safe.”

“When I think about what could’ve happened if you hadn’t been there . . . .” Foggy shook his head. “Damn. I owe you, big time. And I have to apologize for all those times I thought, or said, you weren’t a hero.”

Matt chuckled. “I’m not. You know that better than anyone.”

“Marci might disagree with you,” Foggy said. “You know, she recorded a video of the whole thing on her phone.”

“She recorded it?”

Foggy nodded. “Pretty impressive, I gotta admit.” He paused for a moment, then added. “You know, I’ve never seen you, uh, doing your thing, not up close like that.” He started to walk away, but hesitated. Then he came to a decision and turned around. He sat down across the desk from Matt, in one of the mismatched client chairs.

“What’s up, buddy?” Matt asked.

Foggy sighed. “It’s Marci.” When Matt raised his eyebrows quizzically, he continued, “She kept watching the video last night, over and over. And I think she’s this close – ” He held up his thumb and first finger, almost touching. He wasn’t sure Matt could pick up the gesture, but he would get the point. “ – to figuring it out, you know, who you are.”

Matt tilted his head. “You think?”

“I do. She wasn’t just watching the video, she kept saying there was something familiar about Daredevil.”

“I wear a mask,” Matt objected.

“But it doesn’t cover all of your face,” Foggy reminded him. “And Marci’s known you for long enough to know what the uncovered part looks like. And she thought you stopped and looked at her, after you took care of the mugger.”

“Well, if she thought I was looking at her, she must not suspect it was me,” Matt observed dryly.

“C’mon, Matt, you know what I’m saying.”

“I do.”

“I think I need to tell her,” Foggy said, “and not only because she’s close to figuring out who you are.” He took in the questioning expression on Matt’s face. “I’m going to ask Marci to marry me. She needs to know before she gives me an answer.”

“You sure about that?” Matt asked.

“The getting married part or the telling her part?”

“Both.”

“I am,” Foggy replied firmly. “If I don’t tell her, I’d be asking her to marry me under false pretenses. I’m not gonna do that.”

“You’re right.” Matt sighed. “You shouldn’t.”

“But you’re not happy about it,” Foggy asserted.

“It’s not me who has to be happy about it. If you trust Marci, that’s good enough for me. But is she gonna be happy when she finds out?”

“I have no idea,” Foggy admitted.

“You want me to tell her?” Matt asked.

“Thanks, man, but I got this,” Foggy replied. “I think she’ll handle it better if she hears it from me.” He hoped to god he was right. He got to his feet and headed to his own office to call Marci and invite her to dinner at The Belgian Lion, her favorite restaurant.

After his conversation with Matt, Foggy spent most of the morning trying to come up with the best way to reveal Matt’s secret to Marci, and rehearsing how to deal with her response, whatever that might be. In some of the scenarios he imagined, things did not go well at all. Finally, he gave up. He would just have to blurt it out and hope for the best. Maybe the elegant dinner he had planned beforehand would help. Thinking of food reminded him: he needed sustenance. He headed downstairs to Nelson’s Meats to ask his brother Theo to make him a sandwich.

His lunch break over, Foggy returned to his office. When he sat down at his desk, his gaze fell on a stack of interrogatories. The answers were due in a few days, and he was sure opposing counsel – an asshole if ever there was one – would never agree to an extension. Not to mention that most of the questions probably were objectionable, in more ways than one. Whatever. They weren’t going to answer themselves. Foggy sighed wearily and got to work.

By the time Marci arrived at the office, a little after 6:30, Foggy had drafted answers or objections to most of the interrogatories and was more than ready to call it a day.

Apparently having heard Marci climbing the stairs, Matt came out of his office in his shirt sleeves to greet her. “Hey, Marci,” he said as he hugged her briefly. “Foggy told me what happened. Are you OK?”

“Yes, yes,” she replied crossly. “You’re only about the hundredth person who’s asked me that today.”

Karen came out of her office and hugged Marci.

“Don’t ask her if she’s OK,” Matt warned.

“Why not?” Karen asked.

“Sorry,” Marci said, before she explained, “it’s just that people have been asking me that. All. Day. Long. It gets a little old, you know?”

Karen nodded. “Got it. But I’m still glad you’re OK. And congratulations on the Patterson verdict.” Then she turned toward Foggy’s office and called out, “Foggy! Marci’s here.”

“I know, I know,” Foggy called back. “Just give me a minute to finish up these objections.” When he finished, he got to his feet and shrugged into his jacket. He went out into the reception room and greeted Marci with a kiss.

“Enjoy your dinner,” Matt said with a smile. “I hear Fog’s got something special planned.” He turned and walked back into his office. Marci stared at his backside as he walked away.

“Oh, shit,” Foggy thought. “Please tell me she didn’t recognize Daredevil’s ass.”  He turned to Marci and offered her his arm. “Ready?” She took his arm and smiled as they walked out the door.

The elegant dinner Foggy had planned turned into an ordeal. He could barely taste the excellent duck confit, and when the server suggested his favorite, Bavarian cream with raspberries, for dessert, he simply shook his head. By that time, Marci was giving him frequent worried looks. His stomach churning, he finished his coffee and paid the check. It only got worse on the cab ride back to their apartment, as the moment he’d been dreading all day grew nearer.

When they got home, Marci kicked off her shoes and headed straight to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes. Foggy took off his jacket and tie, hanging them over the back of a chair, then sat down on the couch. A few minutes later, Marci emerged from the bedroom, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, along with her bunny slippers. When Foggy patted the cushion next to him, she crossed the room and sat down. Foggy put his arm around her and kissed her. Then he took a deep breath and said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“What is it, Foggy Bear?” Marci asked. “You were kind of jumpy all during dinner, and you’re making me worried.”

He shifted to face her and took both of her hands in his. “It’s about Matt,” he said.

Marci sighed wearily. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Look, Marci, I know Matt’s not your favorite person – ” Foggy began. He only got that far before she interrupted him.

“Of course he isn’t – you are,” she told him. She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I just wish your best friend wasn’t so high maintenance.”

“You have no idea,” Foggy thought. But she was about to find out. Aloud, he said, “You and me both.”

“So what is this thing you have to tell me about Matt that’s making you so jittery?” Marci asked. “I just saw him, so I know he has hasn’t gone and done a disappearing act again, or had a nervous breakdown, or whatever it was that happened last year.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Foggy assured her.

“Let me guess.” Marci screwed up her face in thought for a moment, then smiled and said, “I know. He’s one of those superheroes who run around in a costume – ” She broke off suddenly when she noticed the shocked expression on Foggy’s face.

“Wha –? You, um, uh, what?” Foggy stammered, letting go of her hands. “You knew?”

“I was kidding, Foggy Bear. It was a joke.”

“Actually, it isn’t,” Foggy said. Just spit it out, he told himself. “Matt is Daredevil.”

Marci stared at him in shocked silence. When she found her voice, she said, “Now you’re kidding me.”

“I’m not. Matt is Daredevil.”

“No way. Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked. “Matt. Is. Blind,” she said, emphasizing each word. Then a doubtful look crossed her face. “Isn’t he?”

Foggy nodded. “He is. He can’t see, not with his eyes.” He paused for a moment, then added, “But he’s not like other blind people.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You know about the accident, the chemical spill, when he was a kid?” Foggy asked. Marci nodded slowly. “The chemicals got into Matt’s eyes and blinded him. But they also affected his other senses.”

“Affected them how?”

“Matt says they gave him ‘heightened’ senses.”

“‘Heightened’?”

“Stronger, sharper. He can tell where people and things are and when they move. It’s how he ‘sees’ – ” Foggy made air quotes “ – when he’s Daredevil. It’s not what you or I would call ‘seeing,’ but with his senses, he can do a lot of things that sighted people can do. You saw it for yourself, last night.”

“I did,” Marci agreed. “But it’s hard to believe.”

“I know. Sometimes, I can’t believe it myself. And it’s not only Daredevil. He can do things that even sighted people can’t.”

“Like what?” Marci asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“He can sense things other people can’t. He just knows things.”

Marci stared at him, wide-eyed. “What kind of things?”

Foggy thought for a minute. “If he was here, Matt could tell what you had for dinner and whether your martini was made with vodka or gin.”

“But everyone knows I only drink vodka martinis,” Marci objected.

“Maybe so,” Foggy admitted, “but that’s not how he knows. When you come by the office, Matt always knows you’re there before the rest of us. He can hear your footsteps and pick up your scent and hear your, um, hear your heartbeat.”

“He can hear my heartbeat?” Marci demanded.

“Yeah,” Foggy confirmed. “And don’t even think of lying to him. Your heartbeat will give you away.”

“Oh. My. God. This is just too . . . too weird for words.”

“I know,” Foggy assured her. “It takes some getting used to. But it’s true.”

Marci stood up and walked to the window. She gazed out in silence for several minutes. Then she turned toward him, her eyes narrowed. Foggy squirmed uncomfortably, guessing he wasn’t going to like what was coming next. “How long have you known?” she demanded.

“A while.”

“Define ‘a while’.”

Foggy sighed resignedly, thinking he now knew what it felt like to be cross-examined by Marci. “I found out before we took down Wilson Fisk for the first time. Not long before that.”

“You found out? He didn’t tell you?”

Foggy shook his head. “No. I found him in his apartment, bleeding and half dead, after he fought with Fisk and some ninja.”

“Matt fought that monster?” Marci asked. Foggy nodded. “Holy shit,” she breathed.

“And a ninja,” Foggy added.

“A ninja. Right.” Marci thought for a moment, then asked, “Does Karen know?”

“Yes,” Foggy said. “Matt told her, after the Castle trial.”

Marci walked back to the couch and sat next to Foggy, gripping his shoulders and turning him toward her. “Let me see if I’ve got this right,” she said, fixing her gaze on him. “We’ve been together for – how long?”

“A year, give or take,” Foggy replied guardedly.

“You knew the whole time. And you didn’t tell me.”

Foggy couldn’t deny it. “I knew, and didn’t tell you,” he admitted. He looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

Marci released her grip on his shoulders and turned away from him. When she turned back to face him, Foggy could see tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh, shit,” he thought. “This is bad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

Foggy scrambled to come up with an answer that would satisfy her. “Honestly, I don’t know. I, uh, I guess, um, it just never seemed like the right time. And I didn’t know how to tell you. Then Matt stopped being Daredevil for a while, and I thought I didn’t need to tell you. Then he disappeared, so . . . .” His voice trailed off.

“What happened then . . . when he disappeared, I mean?”

“You remember that building that collapsed, last year – Midland Circle?”

Marci nodded. “Um-hmm.”

“Matt was there – not in the building. Under it. I thought he was dead, for sure.”

“Omigod,” Marci breathed.

“And it was my fault,” Foggy added.

“No way.”

Foggy nodded grimly. “It was. I brought him the suit so he could go there as Daredevil, not as Matt Murdock. There was a . . . a cult, I guess you’d call it, called the Hand, threatening the city.”

“Threatening the city? Threatening how?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it was bad, like ‘The Incident’ bad or 9-11 bad. Matt and the others, they stopped it.”

“‘The others’?”

“Yeah. Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Danny Rand – they were all there with him. They got out, before . . . before the building came down. Matt stayed behind.”

Marci rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. But how’d he get out?”

“No one knows. Matt doesn’t remember. He was in pretty bad shape, physically and mentally.”

“You think?” Marci looked away for a moment. When she looked back at him, tears were filling her eyes again. “And you knew all about this, about Daredevil, the whole time?’

Foggy hung his head. “Pretty much,” he admitted.

“And you never told me.” 

It was a statement, not a question, but Foggy felt compelled to try to explain. “Like I said, it never felt like the right time. I wanted to tell you, but . . . .” Then he thought of something else. “And there’s another thing: I knew it would be dangerous for you, if you knew. There are people out there, bad people, who will do anything, anything, to find out Daredevil’s identity.”

“You think I don’t know that? Besides, they won’t care if I know or not. Either they’ll think I know, or they’ll use me to get to you. How does not telling me make it any less dangerous?”

Foggy had no answer to that. “I don’t know,” he muttered miserably.

“So suddenly tonight was the right time? After you took me to dinner at my favorite restaurant? What was that for – to soften me up?”

Something like that, Foggy admitted to himself. “It just seemed like it was time,” he said lamely. He considered telling her the real reason – that he wanted to ask her to marry him. But he knew that wouldn’t help. It would look like an excuse, something he’d made up to try to get back in her good graces. He should have told her up front. Telling her now would only make things worse.

“You don’t get it, do you? How much this hurts?” She asked tearfully.

“Marci, I would never, I love – ” he began, but she cut him off.

“You don’t get to say that,” she told him. “Not now. Not after you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t trust me or respect me.”

“That’s not true,” Foggy protested. “I do trust you, I do respect you.”

“Spare me your bullshit. If you did, you would’ve told me long before this.” She got to her feet and stood over him. “One other thing: I didn’t want to believe it, but I have to believe it now. Matt comes first with you, and he always will. I get it.” She sniffed and raised a hand to brush away her tears. “You chose to keep Matt’s secret. You chose him over me. So be it.” She walked over to the front door of the apartment and opened it. As she held it open, she told Foggy, “You need to leave. Now.”

“Marci, please – ” Foggy pleaded.

“Now.”

Foggy knew there was no point in arguing with Marci, not when she was like this. He grabbed his jacket, his phone, and his laptop, and he left, without another word. Marci slammed the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Matt

Matt got to the office early the next morning. He still had to finish preparing for his 9 a.m. hearing. As he climbed the stairs, he picked up breathing and a heartbeat in the reception area, along with a whiff of old stress sweat. Foggy. Apparently things with Marci didn’t go well, last night. As Matt pushed open the door, Foggy sat up.

“Hey, Fog,” Matt said.

“Hey.”

“I guess I don’t have to ask how things went with Marci last night.”

“Nope,” Foggy confirmed. “It was a disaster. She kicked me out. I spent the night here, on the couch.”

“Damn.” Matt shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. This is my fault.”

“No,” Foggy replied firmly. “This is on me. I’m the one who fucked up. I should have told her, long before this.” He punched the cushion next to him. “God damn it. I am such a wuss.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” Matt observed. “I never did figure out a way to tell you.”

“You got that right,” Foggy growled. Then his breathing changed. “I have to fix this. How do I do that?

Matt sensed moisture and salt: tears. Damn. He was the last person Foggy should ask. He was better at ruining relationships than repairing them. Aloud, he said, “I don’t know, man. Maybe just give her some time, some space.” That was what Karen needed, after he told her his secret. Maybe Marci just needed the same thing. On the other hand, he and Karen were still finding their way back to where they were, before it all turned to shit. He wanted something better than that for Foggy, but giving Marci time was all Matt had to offer, for now.

Foggy sniffed. “You think?” he asked.

“I hope” was all that Matt could say. He crossed the room and sat on the couch, next to his friend. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of them having anything more to say. Then Matt heard footsteps on the stairs. Karen. He stood up when he heard her open the door to their temporary office. Apparently the expression on Foggy’s face gave him away. She rushed to the couch and sat beside him, then gave him an awkward sideways hug.

“What’s goin’ on?” she asked.

Matt answered for both of them. He was afraid Foggy might break down again if he had to talk about it. After Matt told her, Karen sat quietly for a moment. Matt could almost sense her keen intelligence analyzing the situation. Finally she said, “I agree with Matt. You need to give her some time, some space.”

Foggy looked up. “You think?”

“I do. You remember what it was like, when you found out? It’s a lot to wrap your mind around. You needed time. So did I. So does Marci. You just need to give her that time. I think she’ll come around.”

Foggy sighed and wrung his hands. “I hope you’re right, guys. I can’t lose her, I can’t.”

Days passed in complete radio silence from Marci. Foggy moved from the reception room couch to his old room in the Nelson family apartment above the shop. One afternoon, when he knew Marci wouldn’t be at home, Foggy collected some of his suits and other belongings from the apartment they used to share. He told Matt he hoped this might provoke some kind of response from her, but no such luck. He once caught a glimpse of her at the courthouse, but either she didn’t see him, or she pretended not to. After Marci ghosted him, he confessed to Matt that he was starting to think he really had lost her. In spite of everything, he insisted to Karen and Matt that he was OK. Matt knew he was lying but didn’t call him on it. Neither did Karen, despite his red-rimmed eyes and the look of abject misery on his face, both of which she described to Matt. While Matt and Karen exchanged worried whispers, Foggy soldiered on, showing up in the office every day and making all of his court appearances, but they all knew his heart wasn’t in it.

Finally, Foggy confessed to Matt that he couldn’t take it any more. He caved and called Marci, who refused to pick up. His voice mails and texts went unanswered. Desperate, he went to see her. She slammed the door in his face.

When the impasse stretched into its second week, Matt decided to go behind Foggy’s back. He called Marci’s co-worker, Jennifer Chou, who confirmed Marci had been, in Jennifer’s words, “a bitch on steroids” for the past week, except when she looked like she was about to dissolve in tears. No one in their office knew why, and Matt didn’t explain. He simply thanked Jennifer for her time and asked her not to tell Marci about their conversation.

After an internal debate, Matt decided to tell Foggy about his conversation with Jennifer. It was a good sign, he reasoned, that Marci was so upset; surely that meant she would come to her senses eventually. But when he told Foggy about his conversation with Jennifer, he quickly discovered Foggy had reached his breaking point. His heart rate and adrenaline shot up. He jumped up from behind his desk and charged at Matt, his fists raised.

“Jesus, Fog,” Matt muttered as he dodged the punch Foggy threw at him. “Just chill, man.”

“Fuck you,” Foggy replied. “I’m gonna lose her. I kept your secret, your god damn secret, and now I’m gonna lose her.” He paused. “No.” He sighed heavily. “It’s already happened. I lost her!”

Matt retreated, backing into the reception area. “No, you’re not losing her,” he said, holding his hands out placatingly. “She’ll come around. You’ll see.”

Foggy followed Matt, raising his fist again. “I don’t want to fight you,” Matt told him. Foggy took another step toward him. “Don’t make me,” Matt warned, lowering his voice.

Before Foggy could throw another punch, Karen rushed out of her office to stand between him and Matt. She extended her arms and placed a hand on each man’s chest to keep them apart. “Enough,” she said. “What are you, twelve?”

“Get out of the way, Karen,” Foggy snapped. “This is between Matt and me.”

“Bullshit,” Karen retorted. “It’s ‘Nelson, Murdock and Page.’ Remember? This is my business, too. You can’t push me aside or shut me out anymore.”

“She’s right, Fog,” Matt said quietly. “You know she is.”

“Whatever,” Foggy muttered. He spun around, turning his back on Matt and Karen, and marched back into his office.

“That went well,” Karen observed.

Matt ignored her and escaped to his own office. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, considering his options. Foggy and Marci were both miserable, because Foggy kept his secret. This was unacceptable. And it was on him. It was up to him to fix this.

Dressed in black and wearing his mask, Matt landed on Marci’s balcony. An instant later, he heard a surprised shriek from inside the apartment. It was almost midnight, but apparently Marci was still up. Footsteps approached. He didn’t detect anyone else nearby, so he took off his mask.

“So it really is you,” Marci commented as she opened the door and stood aside to let him enter.

“Yep.”

“I suppose I’m expected to thank you for what you did the other night,” she said tartly.

“Not necessary.” Matt followed her into the apartment, reminding himself not to act blind. He felt her scrutinizing him. She sat down on the couch, and he pulled up a chair to sit opposite her. She leaned forward and picked up her phone from the coffee table, then tossed it to him. He caught it.

“It’s all true, then, what Foggy told me – about Daredevil, and your . . . what d’you call them . . . superpowers?”

Matt set the phone down on the table. “I don’t call them anything. ‘Abilities,’ I guess. Whatever.” He shrugged. “And yes, it’s true. Foggy wouldn’t lie about something like that. You know that.”

“No, I don’t know,” Marci retorted, “because he did lie. Maybe he only lied by omission, but he lied. And you, you never told him. You were friends for years, and you never told him.”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not? If there was anyone you could trust, it would be Foggy.”

“I know.”

“Why, then?”

Matt bowed his head. “I don’t know. I just . . . I didn’t want anyone to know . . . about me. I never even told my dad, after it happened. And then the man who trained me – ”

“Trained you? How?” Marci asked.

“He taught me how to control my senses . . . and how to fight. And he also taught me that I had to cut my ties to other people. I believed that, for a long time.”

“But not now?”

“No,” Matt said quietly. “Not now.” He stood up and walked to the window. He seemed to look out for a moment. Then he turned toward her and said, “I thought about telling Foggy, you know, but it never seemed to be the right time. And the longer we were friends, the harder it was to explain why I never told him. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I almost did, you know, when he found out.” Before Marci could say it, he added, “Deservedly so.”

“You got that right,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Matt told her. “This is all my fault. Foggy was keeping my secret. He did it for me.” He took a couple of steps toward her, then stopped and leaned against the dining table.

“Is that supposed to make it OK, somehow?” Marci asked bitterly. “All I know is that keeping your secret was more important than being honest with me. Why would I be OK with that?”

Matt had no answer to that. He bowed his head, then said quietly, “No. You shouldn’t be.”

Marci picked up her phone and fiddled with it, thinking. Then she said, “What about last year, all those months when you were gone, doing . . . whatever it was you were doing? You know he didn’t tell me, not even then?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Maybe, but you weren’t there. You didn’t see what it did to him. He thought you were dead. He wouldn’t tell me why. He had nightmares, did you know that? Nightmares about you, dead. He was suffering, for months. Because of you, you selfish asshole!”

She rose from the couch and raised her fists. She rushed toward him and pummeled him on the chest as angry sobs overcame her. Matt stood motionless and took it, until her breathing and heart rate slowed, and her sobs faded away. Then he grasped her wrists and gently moved her hands away from his chest.

“Marci, I never meant – ”

He only got that far before she cut him off. “Don’t even think of trying to justify what you did.” she warned him. “It was fucked up, seriously fucked up.”

Matt hung his head. “I know. It was. I was,” he said.

“He felt guilty, the whole time. I didn’t know why. And now I find out he thought it was his fault.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know. But try telling him that. It almost killed him, thinking it was his fault. That’s on you, Matt.”

“I know.”

“But it’s on him, too. He kept your secret, even when he thought you were dead. He kept it from me.”

“I never asked – ”

Matt got only that far before Marci cut him off. “Bullshit. He did it for you.”

Matt didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. Maybe it would help to change the subject. “This isn’t about what Foggy did, or didn’t do, or what I did, or didn’t do, back then. This is about now. Foggy is suffering, now. He’s lost, without you.”

Marci scoffed. “Fuck you, Murdock. And fuck your Catholic guilt. It doesn’t work on me. I was raised by an expert. Next to my mom, you’re an amateur.” She spun away from him and walked toward the couch but didn’t sit down. After a moment, she turned to face him and asked, “So what’re you really doing here, Matt? Did Foggy send you?”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m here, “ Matt told her. “And I’m pretty sure he would’ve tried to stop me, if he knew.”

“Fat chance,” Marci sneered. “When did he ever keep you from doing something you wanted to do?”

He couldn’t argue with that. “I just wanted to . . . to apologize. This is on me.” He held out his hands, palms up. “You shouldn’t blame Foggy for my shitty decisions. He loves you. He would never hurt you, not intentionally. There’s no malice in him. You know that.”

“Maybe not,” Marci seemed to concede. “But you know what? He did hurt me. So, honestly, I don’t give a damn about his intentions.”

“Will you at least talk to him?”

“No,” Marci replied flatly, turning her face away from him. “Not yet.”

“‘Yet’,” he thought. “So there’s a chance.” Aloud, he said, “But sometime, maybe?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Right now, I wish I’d never met either one of you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Matt protested. “Not about Foggy.”

“Don’t I?” she asked scornfully. She stood up and walked over to the balcony door. “You need to go,” she said as she opened the door.

There was nothing else Matt could say. He walked to the door, putting on his mask as he departed.

Karen

Karen prided herself on her ability to read Matt, especially when he was hiding something. It was a useful skill to have, with someone so secretive. When Matt arrived at the office, the morning after his late-night visit to Marci, she picked up the shifty vibe he always gave off when there was something he wasn’t telling her. As soon as Foggy left for court, she marched into Matt’s office and confronted him. It didn’t take her long to pry the truth out of him.

“Jesus, Matt, seriously?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought we were past ‘Matt Murdock has to fix everything by himself.’ In what universe did you think it would be a good idea for you to talk to Marci?”

“It’s my secret. Foggy was keeping it for me. I thought she needed to know that,” Matt protested weakly from behind his desk.

“And you thought she didn’t already know? For chrissake, that’s the problem, that Foggy did it for you.”

“Exactly. That’s the point. It’s on me, not Foggy.”

Karen gave an exasperated sigh as she fell into one of the client chairs. “You really don’t get it, do you?” When Matt didn’t answer, she continued, “Keeping your secret came first with Foggy, before being honest with her. That’s the point. And I’m guessing Marci told you that.”

“She might’ve mentioned something like that,” Matt admitted sheepishly. “But – ”

Karen cut him off. “No ‘buts’,” she declared. “This is on Foggy, too. He could’ve told Marci. He had plenty of chances, he just chickened out.”

Matt grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Not that I blame him,” Karen added quickly. “I wouldn’t want to face the wrath of Marci, either. But now we’re going to, all of us.”

Matt went out into the reception room and sat down on the couch. Karen joined him. The two friends sat side by side in silence. Karen was the first to speak. “So, what now? Do we just wait while Marci does her passive-aggressive thing?”

Matt tilted his head back, as if he was looking for answers in the ceiling. Then he shook his head and frowned. “No. This isn’t Marci being passive-aggressive.”

Karen thought for a moment, then said, “You’re probably right. She’s not really the passive-aggressive type.”

“I think she’s hurting. Angry, too, but mostly hurting. I could hear it in her voice last night.”

Karen sighed. “They’re both hurting,” she said sadly.

“So what do we do about it?”

“We don’t do anything about it. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’,” Karen told him firmly. “You’re part of the problem. You can’t help. Foggy and Marci love each other. We just have to trust they’ll find a way to work things out.”

“At least they agree on one thing,” Matt observed.

“What’s that?”

He gave a pained half-smile. “I’m an asshole.”

Karen’s optimism began to fade when the standoff reached day 12 with no end in sight. After Foggy lashed out at Matt, he withdrew into himself, barely speaking to either of them. Especially Matt. When he and Matt crossed paths in the office, he ignored Matt, pretending not to know that Matt could tell he was there. Foggy’s brother Theo, who was running the shop since their parents’ retirement and living in the family apartment, reported he spent his evenings and weekends shut up in his room, moping.

This was unacceptable. There must be something she could do to help. Matt was part of the problem, but she wasn’t. She decided to talk to Marci. She asked Foggy for the name of the bar he and Marci liked, claiming she was meeting a high school friend from Vermont, and she couldn’t possibly take her friend to Josie’s. She spent the next two evenings there, nursing her drinks to make them last and fending off a series of guys who hit on her, but Marci didn’t show. Her luck finally changed on the third night. When she walked in the door, she spotted Marci sitting at the end of the bar, doing her best to ignore the guy who was sitting next to her and invading her space. Karen drew herself up to her full height as she approached them.

“Get lost, asshole,” she ordered. “I’m her date tonight.”

The guy was a full two inches shorter than Karen. He took one look at her and fled. Karen pulled up the bar stool next to Marci’s and sat down. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Marci replied. “So what’s this – you and Matt taking turns?”

“No,” Karen said firmly. “You won’t be seeing Matt again, not unless you want to.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Marci muttered. “So why are you really here, Karen?” she asked, echoing her question to Matt a few nights before.

The bartender appeared, and Karen ordered a Scotch, neat, before she answered. “You know why – this whole thing with you and Foggy.”

“ . . . is none of your business,” Marci declared firmly.

“It’s not? Foggy’s my friend. And I work with him. I have to look at his miserable mug every day. He’s hurting – bad.”

“He’ll be fine,” Marci scoffed. “He doesn’t need me. He’s got Matt.”

“That’s what this is about? Seriously?”

“He kept Matt’s secret. That was more important to him than being honest with me. It was a wake-up call for me. I realized that Matt would always come first with him.”

“And you’re just now figuring that out? Give me a break. Please. You’ve known them for years. You knew what you were getting into when you and Foggy got together.”

The bartender set Karen’s Scotch down in front of her. She lifted her glass in a mock salute. “Nelson and Murdock forever.”

Marci tapped her glass against Karen’s and repeated, “Nelson and Murdock forever.” Both women drank, then sat in silence for a moment.

Marci broke the silence. “You’re right. I knew about Foggy and Matt, their friendship. But I didn’t know about Daredevil.” She whispered the name. “I didn’t sign up for that. And that’s kind of a big deal. I mean, we could get disbarred, you could lose your PI license. We could all go to prison!”

“That’s true,” Karen admitted.

“I was a part of that, and I didn’t even know. That’s not right.”

“I know. I was, too, and I didn’t know, not for a long time.”

“Now that I know, I’m not sure I want to be a part of it.”

“It’s a little too late for that,” Karen told her. “You already are. People are going to assume you knew, even when you didn’t.”

Marci frowned. “And I don’t get a say in that?” Karen shook her head. “Damn,” Marci said, “that sucks.”

“It does.” Karen picked up her glass and drank, then put down the glass and stared at the amber liquid as if it held the answer to their problem. Marci took out her phone and glanced at it, but apparently it held no answers, either.

Karen spoke first. “You’re wrong about Foggy always putting Matt first, you know. The angriest I’ve ever seen Foggy was when he was angry with Matt.” She sipped her drink. “He actually went after Matt at the office, a few days ago.”

“‘Went after’ him? How?”

“He wanted to fight him,” Karen explained.

Marci rolled her eyes. “Oh, Foggy Bear,” she breathed. “He’s OK?”

“He’s fine,” Karen assured her. “I stopped it before it even started. Matt was never going to fight him, anyway.”

“But why?” Marci asked.

Karen lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was the secret identity thing. Foggy’s never been OK with Matt being Daredevil, to begin with. And now he thinks he’s lost you, because he kept Matt’s secret.”

“He’s not wrong about that,” Marci told her. She twirled her martini glass in her hand, then lifted the olive out of her drink and put it down on the cocktail napkin next to the glass. “He was really going to fight Matt?”

“Absolutely. And he would do it again, for you.”

“You think?”

“In a heartbeat,” Karen replied firmly. “Foggy loves Matt, it’s true, but like a brother. He’s not in love with Matt. He’s in love with you.”

Marci folded her arms across her chest and considered this for a moment. “Maybe,” she finally conceded, unfolding her arms and taking a sip of her martini. “But he should’ve trusted me.”

“You’re right. I felt the same way, after Matt told me about himself.”

“But you forgave him.” It was both a statement and a question.

“I did. Eventually. More or less. Because of Foggy.” Marci gave her a questioning look.

“Do you remember when we found out Matt was alive, after Midland Circle?” Karen asked. Marci nodded. “I didn’t want to forgive him. For letting us think he was dead, not to mention all of his lies and bullshit before that. You know what Foggy told me?” Marci shook her head. “He told me – well, more like he reminded me – that people had abandoned Matt his whole life, and he wasn’t going to be one of them. Even with the shitty way Matt had treated him. That’s who Foggy is. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Marci sighed.

“And that’s why we love him. Why you love him.”

“Among other things,” Marci replied with a sly grin. When Karen caught the look in Marci’s eye, she couldn’t help herself. She started giggling. Marci joined in. Their giggles turned into full-throated belly laughs. Karen couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed like that. It felt like a long time. Gradually, their laughter faded to snickers and snorts. Karen wiped her eyes and caught her breath before she spoke again.

“And there’s one other thing. Matt needs Foggy, more than Foggy needs him. When Matt goes off the rails – ”

“That happen often?”

“Often enough,” Karen admitted. “And when it happens, it’s because he’s pushed Foggy away. Foggy’s the one who keeps him from going off the deep end. I know some people think Daredevil is a hero, but Foggy is a better man. He’s the real hero – the strongest, the best of us. He’s the one who holds everything together. You know that.”

“I know,” Marci said quietly. “That’s what makes this so hard.” She sipped at her drink, looking thoughtful. Finally, she turned to Karen and asked, “So what about you and Matt? Are you getting back together?”

Karen took a long drink of her Scotch and set her glass down with a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s complicated. God, I hate that word!” She took another drink. “But Matt and I, we were never really together. Not like you and Foggy. We were just starting to figure out what we were to each other. And then . . . it all fell apart.”

“But you still care about him, right?” Marci asked. “I saw you after . . . well, when we all thought he was dead. You were as miserable as Foggy.”

Karen took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. She did not want to go there. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I was miserable. And, yes, I cared about him. Still do. But I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“Hey, ‘all you need is love’,” Marci quipped.

“No Beatles quotes, please,” Karen implored her. She hadn’t been able to listen to the Beatles since Father Lantom’s death.

“And now?” Marci prompted her.

Karen shrugged. “I’m OK with how things are. And I don’t want to risk losing what we have. It’s been too hard, getting to where we are now.” She took a sip of her Scotch and turned the glass around in her hands before continuing. “And I don’t want you and Foggy to lose each other, either.”

Marci frowned. “I don’t know. I see everything you and Foggy have gone through in the last couple of years. I’m not sure I want to be a part of that. And I’m not ready to forgive Foggy – not yet.”

“But you’ll think about it?”

“Maybe. I just . . . I need time.”

There was nothing more to say. Karen finished her drink and threw a few bills on the bar, then gave Marci a quick hug, before she left.

Chapter Text

Matt

Four days after Karen and Marci’s conversation in the bar, little had changed. Foggy was still trudging upstairs to the family apartment every evening after work. He had even started talking about finding an apartment of his own. Karen tried desperately to talk him out of it. The only positive development was that Foggy seemed to have given up on the idea of fighting Matt. He was even talking to his law partner again, if only about cases. After Foggy left the office that evening, a disappointed Karen confided in Matt.

“I thought we were going to let them work it out themselves,” he observed, after she told him about her talk with Marci.

“I really thought it would help,” she said. “I thought I was getting through to her.”

“Maybe you did,” Matt said. “It’s a lot to take in, you know. Could be, she just needs more time.”

“Maybe,” Karen replied doubtfully.

“At least, you didn’t make things worse,” Matt commented.

“Like someone we know.”

“Ouch.”

The next afternoon, Matt and Foggy were in Foggy’s office, discussing their response to a settlement offer in the case of a young mother who had been run down by a drunk driver on West 48th Street. There was no way they were going to recommend taking the insurance company’s low-ball offer, but Matt wanted to make a counter-offer, while Foggy insisted they shouldn’t even dignify the offer with a response.

“Make ’em bid against themselves,” he argued.

“They’re not gonna do that,” Matt countered. “And the client needs the money now. I’m not saying we should cave, but – ”

Foggy stood up and walked over to the window, then turned to face Matt, with his back to the window. “The only way they’ll come up with a reasonable offer is if they’re looking at trial – a trial they know they’re going to lose. They won’t get cold feet until their feet are on the courthouse steps. We need to – ”

Matt stopped listening to Foggy when he heard the sound of a sniper’s rifle being readied for firing. “Get down!” he yelled as he sprinted across the room and tackled Foggy, taking him down to the floor and covering Foggy’s body with his own. Too late. Warm, wet, coppery blood was flowing from Foggy’s midsection. Matt stayed down until the shooter ceased firing. Then he raised his head and yelled, “Karen! Call 911!” He sensed her, standing in the entrance to Foggy’s office. “Don’t come in here,” he ordered. “And stay away from the windows.” He ripped off his shirt and used it to put pressure on Foggy’s wound, begging Foggy to “stay with me, buddy, stay with me,” over and over again. He was focused on Foggy, but behind him he vaguely heard Karen, trying to reassure Theo and hold him back.

The paramedics finally arrived, after five minutes that felt like five hours. Matt reluctantly stood aside to let them do their jobs. They quickly determined that Foggy was a “scoop and go” case and took him downstairs to their rig as soon as he was ready to be transported. Theo went with them.

“Where are they taking him?” Karen asked Theo as they left.

“Metro-General.”

Matt started to follow them, but Karen grabbed his arm to stop him. “We have to wait for the cops,” she told him. “And there’s nothing you can do for Foggy right now, anyway.”

Matt took a deep breath. Karen was right. While they waited, he put on a T-shirt that Karen found somewhere. It smelled like Foggy, which was upsetting and oddly comforting at the same time. Then he heard people climbing the stairs.

Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney walked into the office, followed by several people Matt didn’t know. He introduced them as Detective Laura Rivera and Officers Keith Michael and Tyrell Robinson. After Matt told him what happened, Mahoney barked out orders to Rivera and the two officers to begin a canvass of the area, starting with the building across the street. Then he turned to Matt. “You OK?” he asked. Matt nodded. “Any idea who did this?”

Matt thought for a moment, frowning. “Not really.”

“Was it Fisk?” Mahoney asked.

“No.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” Matt replied firmly, hoping to cut off further questioning about Fisk. Brett didn’t know about his deal with Fisk, and Matt wasn’t about to tell him.

“If not Fisk, who?”

Matt breathed a sigh of relief. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Well, you and Nelson have made a few enemies,” Mahoney observed. “Any one stand out?”

“No one in particular.”

Mahoney gave a frustrated huff. “Great,” he said. “We just narrowed down the list of potential suspects to everyone Nelson & Murdock have pissed off.”

“Don’t forget Page,” Matt reminded him. “Karen’s pretty good at pissing people off, too.”

Behind him, Karen muttered, “Not as good as you.” Then she raised her voice and said, “We need to get to the hospital. Can we finish this later?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mahoney replied, waving his hand. “Go on, go. I’ll catch you later at the hospital.” As Matt and Karen were walking away, he called out, “I hope Nelson’s gonna be OK, even if he is a real pain in my ass.”

By the time Karen and Matt arrived at the hospital, Foggy had already been taken to surgery. They found Theo in the fifth-floor surgery waiting room. He stood up and crossed the room to meet them.

“How is he?” Matt asked.

Theo shook his head. “It’s bad, real bad, Matt. They say the bullet hit his liver. He lost a lot of blood and was in shock. They wouldn’t say if he was gonna make it.”

“Damn.” Matt grimaced and sat down heavily in one of the worn chairs. Theo sat next to him.

Karen sat down next to Theo and pulled out her phone. “Who’re you calling?” Theo asked.

“Marci. I don’t want her finding out about this from the news,” she explained as she tapped her phone. She paused for a moment, waiting for Marci to answer. When she told Marci what had happened, Matt could hear Marci’s wail – “Nooooo!” – through the phone. After she ended the call, Karen sighed wearily and said, “She’s on her way.”

Twenty minutes later, Marci rushed through the waiting-room door. “How is he?” she asked. Her voice sounded thick, as if she’d been crying.

Theo answered her. “Still in surgery. They haven’t told us anything since they took him to the operating room.”

“But he’s gonna be OK. Isn’t he?”

Theo shook his head sadly. “They wouldn’t say.”

Marci fell into a chair and began to sob, holding her head in her hands. Karen sat with her. When her gasping breaths slowed and she began to sniff, Karen retrieved a box of tissues from a nearby table. Marci took one and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. Then she turned to Matt.

“Who did this?” she demanded.

Matt held out his hands, palms up. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. It has to be because of Da – ”

“Marci, don’t – ” Karen warned her.

“ – because of who you are.”

“Probably,” Matt admitted quietly.

“God damn you, Matt. This is on you.”

Matt nodded slowly. “I know.”

“You should be in that operating room instead of Foggy. I wish it was you.”

“Me too,” Matt agreed.

An hour passed. Matt tried to meditate but failed, unable to quiet his racing mind or slow his heart rate or loosen the knot in his stomach. The sounds and smells of the hospital kept intruding. Even more intrusive was the constant drumbeat of his fear for Foggy. There was no news from the operating room. Not for the first time, Matt wished Claire was still working at Metro-General. That was on him, too. He couldn’t blame her for quitting her job after undead Hand ninjas attacked the hospital and killed her co-worker, Louisa. Then he heard someone approaching: Brett Mahoney.

“Hey, Murdock,” he said as he walked in the door. “Karen. Ms. Stahl.”

Marci spoke first. “Have you found the piece of shit who did this?” she demanded.

Mahoney sighed. “Not yet. We canvassed the neighborhood, but no one would admit to seeing or hearing anything. We did find the shooter’s location, an apartment in the vacant building directly across the street, the one that’s being renovated. But it’s early. We’ll find the son of a bitch, I promise you.”

“You’d better,” Marci muttered.

“How’s Nelson?” Mahoney asked.

Karen answered him. “Still in surgery.”

Mahoney shook his head. “Hell of a thing. I’m praying for him. So is my mom.” He sat down next to Karen. “Have you thought of anything that might help us ID the shooter?”

Karen was silent for a moment. Then she shook her head and said, “No, no one involved in our current cases. I mean, litigation is always contentious, but not like . . . this.” She waved her hand.

“What about past cases? People can hold grudges for a long time.”

“No, nothing. You know Foggy, he doesn’t make enemies.”

“It wasn’t Fisk?”

“No.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Mahoney sighed. “Well, OK, then. But you let me know if you think of anything that could help.”

“I will,” Karen assured him.

Mahoney turned to Matt and asked, “Can we talk, Murdock?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the door.

Matt unfolded his cane and followed Mahoney to the far end of the hall.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Mahoney observed.

“It’s not entirely an act, you know,” Matt reminded him.

“Oh, uh, no, of course not,” Mahoney stammered. Then he shook off his embarrassment and asked, in a low voice, “So, have you picked up anything that might give us a lead on the shooter, you know, when you’ve been, uh, out at night?”

Matt thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I’ve mostly been dealing with a bunch of lowlifes lately. No one with sniper skills, as far as I know, or the cash to hire one.”

“So who was the target, you or Nelson?”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too. Foggy was standing right in front of the window when the shooter fired, and I’m pretty sure Foggy doesn’t look like me. The shooter had to know it was Foggy.”

“But why would someone target Nelson?”

“No idea.”

“Could he have enemies you don’t know about?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. I don’t know everything he was doing when we weren’t practicing together or while I was, uh, wasn’t around. But I don’t think he would’ve been involved in anything that would lead to something like this.”

Mahoney started to walk back down the hall. Matt followed him. When they arrived at the door to the waiting room, Mahoney turned to Matt. “If you think of anything, anything at all that could help, you let me know.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t want to hear about Daredevil taking this guy out.”

“OK,” Matt agreed, keeping his reservations to himself.

When he walked into the waiting room, Matt heard Karen and Marci talking quietly. Not wanting to interrupt them, he took a seat across the room. But he listened in on their conversation, justifying his eavesdropping by telling himself they both knew he could hear them.

Marci was saying, “. . . so this is my life, now?” She waved her hand.

Karen nodded. “If you want Foggy in your life, it is. But it’s your choice. Is that what you want?”

“This isn’t what I want,” Marci replied. “I thought my life would be very different. All I wanted was to make partner, and maybe do some good along the way. But now . . . I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“I know,” Karen said quietly.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Handle it,” Marci explained. “All the . . . the chaos, the violence, the . . . craziness.”

Karen sighed. “I don’t know.” She fell silent for a moment. “I tried to walk away, more than once. It was just too exhausting.”

“But you couldn’t stay away.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Karen didn’t answer her for what seemed like a long time. Matt wondered if she was going to answer. Then she said, “I don’t know if I can explain it. When I first met Foggy and Matt, I was . . . drifting. I didn’t know who I was or who I wanted to be. I didn’t have . . . anyone. When we all worked together to put Fisk away, I felt like I had found my purpose. And I found a home at Nelson & Murdock – and my two best friends.”

“Daredevil, too?” Marci asked in a near-whisper.

Karen nodded. “Daredevil, too. It hasn’t been easy, being Matt’s friend – ”

“Or maybe something more?” Marci interrupted.

“Maybe,” Karen replied. “We’ll see. But no matter what happens between Matt and me, I believe in what we’re doing. I want to be a part of that. I need to be a part of it.”

“And it’s worth it?”

“It is to me. And I’m guessing Foggy’s worth it, to you.”

Marci stood up and walked over to a table at the end of a row of chairs. She picked up something – a magazine, Matt thought – and turned it around in her hands. Finally she spoke. “He is. God help me.”

“So you’re going to forgive him?”

“I have to, don’t I?” Marci put down the magazine and returned to sit next to Karen.

“I think you already have,” Karen observed. “Now all you have to do is tell him.”

“But what if I never get the chance to tell him?” Marci asked. “Oh, God, what if he dies?” She made a choking sound, and Matt detected the salt and moisture of her tears. Making comforting noises, Karen handed her a tissue. The two women sat in silence for a while. Then Matt thought he heard Marci whispering a prayer. Interesting. He never would have thought she was a believer.

A half hour later, Luke Cage walked into the surgery waiting room. Matt was the first to notice him. “Hey, Luke,” he said.

“Hey, Matt,” Luke replied, then nodded to Karen and Marci. “Karen. Marci. I came as soon as I heard. How is he?”

Karen answered him. “Still in surgery. They say it’s going to be hours before we know anything.”

Luke shook his head. “Sweet Christmas.” Then he turned to Matt. “I need to talk to you, Matt.” Luke started to walk away, but before he could take another step, Matt stood up and took hold of his arm. Luke stopped short. “Wha – ?”

“Gotta keep up appearances,” Matt explained in a low voice. “Secret identity, and all that.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot. Sorry about that.”

“No problem.” They walked past a nurses’ station and down the hall, until Matt was sure they couldn’t be overheard. He stopped and let go of Luke’s arm. “OK. We’re good here,” he said. “What’s going on, Luke?”

“You remember John Hammer?”

“Sure. He’s one of the bosses Fisk was taxing.”

“I think he’s behind this.”

Matt frowned. “That makes no sense. We got him out from under Fisk’s tax. Why would he have it in for Foggy?”

Luke shifted uncomfortably. “It goes back before that,” he explained. “While you were, uh, gone, Nelson was doing legal work for me, helping me to keep Hammer and guys like him in line. Hammer has an auto-repair shop on 133rd Street that’s a front for a chop shop, a car-theft ring, and other stuff. He was, uh, you might say, resisting what I’m trying to do in Harlem, so he was one of our first targets. We gave Blake Tower what we had on him, but before Tower could act on it, Fisk got out, and that whole shit show happened. Hammer was finally indicted last week and got out on bail three days ago.”

Matt grimaced. “Damn.”

“I called Nelson to warn him, as soon as Hammer made bail. Hammer knows he can’t touch me, and I figured he might go after Nelson. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“What the – ?”

“We haven’t been talking much, lately,” Matt explained. “My fault.”

“Well, you know now.” Luke paused to let a couple of nurses pass, before he continued. “Hammer’s in the wind, but I’ve got people looking for him. It’s only a matter of time before we find him.”

Matt nodded. “Good. You’ll let me know when you do?”

“Don’t worry, man. I got this,” Luke assured him. “You need to be here, for Nelson.”

“Bullshit,” Matt growled. “What I need is to take down the piece of shit that did this.” He could feel Luke’s gaze on him, as the big man considered his options.

Finally, Luke sighed and said, “OK. But Harlem is my turf. We do this my way.”

Matt nodded. “All right.”

Luke said, “I’ll be in touch,” then turned and walked away.

Time dragged after Luke’s departure. Theo went to the nurses’ station several times, but no one would tell him anything, except that Foggy was still in surgery, and someone would talk to them as soon as he was out of the operating room. Karen went on a coffee run to the cafeteria, but the hospital coffee did nothing to help the time pass more quickly. Finally, after an hour and a half that seemed interminable, a man came into the waiting room and approached Theo. “Mr. Nelson?” he asked in a pleasant baritone voice. Theo nodded. “I’m Dr. Robertson. I operated on your brother. He’s out of surgery and in recovery. He tolerated the surgery well. The bullet nicked his liver, causing a significant blood loss. We repaired the liver and the affected blood vessels, and . . . .”

Marci interrupted him. “When can we see him?”

“Who are you?” Robertson asked.

“Marci Stahl. I’m his – ”

Before she could finish the sentence, Matt spoke up. “She’s his fiancée.” Marci’s heartbeat fluttered briefly, telling him she was startled, but she didn’t correct him.

“And you are?” the surgeon asked Matt.

“Matthew Murdock, law partner and friend,” Matt replied. “I also have his medical power of attorney.”

“When he’s out of recovery, he’ll go to the Surgical ICU,” Dr. Robertson resumed. “We’ll keep him sedated and on the ventilator overnight, before decreasing the sedation and allowing him to wake up. Abdominal wounds can be quite painful, and this will help him to rest and begin healing. We’ll see how he’s doing in the morning. Any questions?”

“But he’s gonna make it, right?” Theo asked.

“As I said, he came through the surgery well, considering the severity of his injury, but there could still be complications.”

“Like what?” Marci asked.

“Infection and bleeding are the most common complications with this type of injury,” Robertson explained. “We’re giving him antibiotics and will monitor him closely overnight. Any other questions?” When no one spoke up, he added, “The SICU is on the seventh floor. You can wait there. I’ll be around this evening, as will Dr. Patel, the critical care specialist. The nurses will find one of us if you have any other questions.” On that note, he turned and left the room.

After the door closed behind the surgeon, Theo breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he said.

“I don’t know, Theo,” Marci said doubtfully. “It sounds to me like he’s not out of the woods yet.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed, “He wouldn’t say Fog’s gonna make it.”

“Damn,” Theo swore. “I gotta call the parents before they get on the plane in Tampa. What am I gonna tell them?”

“He’s made it this far,” Karen pointed out. “That’s something to hold on to.”

They went upstairs and found the SICU and yet another waiting room. A few minutes later, Matt’s phone announced, “Luke, Luke, Luke.” He answered, “Hey, Luke,” then listened, occasionally murmuring “OK” or “Yeah” or “I got it.” Finally he said, “I’m on my way,” and ended the call. He got to his feet, put his phone back in his pocket, and announced, “I gotta go.” He unfolded his cane and headed for the door, followed by Karen.

She caught up to him as he reached the door. “What the hell, Matt?” she whispered fiercely. “You’re leaving? Now?”

“Yeah.” Matt turned to go, but she grabbed his sleeve.

“Just like that?” she demanded. “When we don’t even know if Foggy’s gonna make it?”

Matt gave an impatient huff. “Luke thinks John Hammer is behind the shooting. He’s got a lead on Hammer’s location. We have to find him, Karen.”

“What d’you mean ‘we’? Luke can handle it. Let him.”

“No way. I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t. Luke doesn’t need you. We do. Foggy needs you.”

“C’mon, Karen, you heard the doctor. Foggy’s gonna be out of it until tomorrow morning, at least. There’s nothing I can do here. Besides, what happened to Foggy is on me.”

“Oh, please. Give me a break. This is not your fault.”

“It is,” Matt asserted.

“Bullshit,” Karen told him firmly. This isn’t about you, Matt.”

“Yes, it is,” Matt protested. “Luke thinks Hammer went after Foggy because of the work they did together while I was, uh, gone. If I hadn’t fucked things up, if I hadn’t pushed Foggy away, Foggy and I would still have been practicing together, and he wouldn’t have been working for Luke.” Before Karen could say another word, he shouldered her aside and walked out, leaving her fuming impotently.

Chapter Text

Matt

Soon after he left the hospital, Matt was on the A train, heading uptown to Harlem. On the way to the subway, he stopped off at his apartment to change into the black shirt and pants he wore as Daredevil. Over them he put on a baseball cap and the hooded jacket he’d found in a bag of clothing donated to the Clinton Church. His mask and gloves were in the jacket’s pockets. His dark glasses and white cane ensured his fellow passengers would only see a blind man. He leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to control the sensory input that always assaulted him in the subway. The sounds and smells, most of them unpleasant, threatened to overwhelm him. Especially the sounds. Like the shriek of metal wheels on metal rails when the train rounded a curve or braked while entering a station. It was hard work to maintain his focus and not allow his reactions to betray him.

Mostly, he focused on Foggy. Foggy and his passion for the law and what it could do. Foggy, laughing about “avocados at law.” Foggy, who showed him what it meant to be a friend, and to have one. Foggy, bleeding on the floor of their office. Foggy, lying in a hospital bed, somewhere between life and death. Behind Matt’s dark glasses, tears came to his eyes. He blinked them back, hating the feeling of being exposed to strangers who could see him when he couldn’t see them.

The train finally arrived at 125th Street, where he got off and emerged onto Harlem’s main street. It wasn’t hard to find his way to Harlem’s Paradise. Everyone in Harlem, it seemed, knew Luke Cage and the club he’d inherited, under somewhat murky circumstances, from the disgraced Councilwoman, Mariah Stokes. After he took over the club, Luke declared himself the boss of Harlem and was using his newfound power to make sure crime bosses like Hammer operated within the limits that he set. His methods weren’t always strictly legal. Matt didn’t have a problem with that. He could say the same thing about himself.

When he arrived at the entrance to the club, Matt hit a roadblock, in the form of two large security guards. They refused to believe a scruffy, blind white dude had business with their boss, much less that Luke was expecting him. Matt stood his ground, but so did the guards. Voices were raised. When the guards grabbed his arms to shove him to the sidewalk, Matt prepared to fight his way past them. Then he heard Luke approaching.

“Back off, guys,” Luke ordered. When they didn’t immediately comply, he repeated the order, more loudly. “I said, back off!” This time, they released Matt and stepped away.

“Hey, Luke,” Matt said.

“Hey,” Luke replied. He turned to the two guards. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“But, boss,” one of them protested, “we thought – ”

Luke didn’t let him finish. “That was your mistake. I don’t pay you to think. Now get out of my sight.”

Matt took Luke’s arm and let Luke guide him into the club. It was still early in the evening; the musicians who would play later were setting up, and only a few customers sat at the bar. Several of them greeted Luke. Matt sensed they were curious about him, but none of them said anything. As they climbed the stairs to Luke’s second-floor office, the big man said, “Sorry about that, man.”

Matt waved his free hand. “Don’t sweat it.”

“I do sweat it. I can’t have idiots like that working for me.” Luke shook his head. “Sweet Sister.”

When they entered the office, Matt let go of Luke’s arm and folded his cane. He took a seat across from Luke, who went behind his desk and sat down. “So, Hammer . . . ,” he said.

“Yeah,” Luke replied. “One of my people tracked him to an apartment building he owns on 136th Street. He took over the top floor and turned it into a kind of safe house for himself.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” Luke replied, sounding a little annoyed at being questioned. “This is my patch, just like Hell’s Kitchen is yours.”

“OK. So how do we get in?”

“We walk in.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that,” Luke affirmed. “I know Hammer. He won’t want to tangle with me when I’m just there to talk. And if we’re right and he’s behind the shooting, he’s gonna want to find out what we know.”

“Whatever you say,” Matt muttered doubtfully.

Luke stood up and left the office through a side door. Matt followed him down a back stairwell. They left the building and emerged into an areaway. A short passage led to an alley, where a car was parked.

“Too many people following ‘Harlem’s Hero’,” Luke explained. “This is one time I don’t want them to know what I’m doing.”

Once they were both in the car and Luke had turned onto the street, Matt asked, “So who’d Hammer hire to do the shooting?”

Luke shrugged. “The smart thing would have been to hire someone from out of town – Philly or Chicago – and get him out of town after. But knowing Hammer, he probably used one of his own guys.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Hammer’s a real cheapskate, wouldn’t want to spend the dough to hire a professional.”

“So the shooter’s probably still around?”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “Maybe even at the safe house with Hammer.”

Matt considered this but didn’t say anything. A minute later, Luke turned the car toward the curb and stopped. They were there. Matt put on his mask and gloves and took off his jacket and cap, leaving them in the car with his glasses and cane.

When the sidewalk was clear and Matt’s senses didn’t pick up anyone watching, they got out of the car and entered the building. There was no resistance from the armed men stationed in front of Hammer’s private elevator. They took the elevator to the top floor. There, the two armed men standing at Hammer’s front door admitted Luke and Matt and directed them to the office to the right of the entry hall. Two more armed men stood at the office door. They followed Luke and Matt into the office, but Hammer waved his hand and said, “Leave us.” They obeyed, closing the door behind them.

Hammer was seated behind a desk. Matt could sense its size and weight. The thing was massive. Matt guessed it was intended to impress or intimidate or both. He smirked. If that was Hammer’s game, it wasn’t going to work on a blind guy. He didn’t think it would have the intended effect on Luke, either, but for different reasons. Hammer gave off the scents of tobacco smoke and leather, with an overlay of a musky cologne that Matt supposed was advertised as “masculine.” The cologne failed to mask the pungent odor of his sweat. His heartbeat was steady, if a little fast.

Hammer leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of him. “Well, well,” he said. His bass voice was a sonorous rumble, not unpleasant to listen to. “Luke Cage and . . . Daredevil, I presume?” Matt nodded. “Venturing out of Hell’s Kitchen, are we?”

When neither Luke nor Matt responded, Hammer continued, “So what brings you here, gentlemen?”

Matt started to answer, but Luke stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I believe you’re acquainted with my attorney, Franklin Nelson,” he said smoothly.

“Yes.”

“Someone shot him this afternoon. We’re thinking you might know something about that.”

“Someone shot him?” Hammer asked. “I’m very sorry to hear it. But he survived?”

“Yes.”

“Praise God.” Hammer held out his hands, palms up. “But I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, gentlemen. This is the first I’ve heard of any shooting.”

He was a skillful liar, but he couldn’t hide his heartbeat from Matt. “You’re lying, you piece of shit,” Matt growled.

“Better think again, Hammer,” Luke warned. “He knows when you’re lying.”

Hammer swiveled his chair in Matt’s direction. “A human lie detector, huh?” he asked sardonically. “Fascinating. I didn’t know Daredevil had any so-called ‘superpowers’.”

“You have no idea,” Matt muttered under his breath.

“What’s that you said?” Hammer asked. Then he waved his hand and said indifferently, “Never mind.” He turned back to Luke. “Poor Mr. Nelson. I wish I could help you, Mr. Cage, really I do. But I have no idea who shot him.” He sniffed. “He’s nobody, just a two-bit Hell’s Kitchen ambulance chaser. Not worth my – ”

“Fuck this,” Matt thought, gnashing his teeth. They weren’t going to get what they needed from Hammer by asking nicely. And fuck Hammer for what he said about Foggy. The devil inside him stirred and woke up. Time to let the devil out. Yelling wordlessly, he launched himself across the desk at Hammer and unleashed a punch, connecting with the center of his face. He heard the satisfying sound of Hammer’s nose breaking and smelled his blood. Hammer howled in pain. Matt raised his fist to deliver another blow, but Luke’s voice got through to him.

“Cool it, man.”

It was too late. Hammer’s men, all six of them, rushed in with guns drawn. When they started firing, Luke pushed Matt behind him and let the projectiles bounce harmlessly off his unbreakable skin.

“Stop firing, you fools!” Hammer ordered from beneath his desk, where he had taken cover. “You’re just wasting ammo.” One of the men fired a last round, before they all lowered their weapons.

Rashly, one of Hammer’s men rushed at Luke and pounded ineffectually on his chest. Luke sighed and lifted the man off the floor, then took him out with a single punch. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Matt wasn’t about to leave the fighting to Luke. He wanted to feel his fists connecting with these thugs – especially Hammer. He dragged Hammer out from under his desk and started pummeling him. But Hammer wasn’t a wuss, even if he sounded like one. He might not have Matt’s skills, but like Matt, he’d grown up on the streets of New York. He fought back – viciously. Finally, he broke away from Matt. Then Matt heard the click of a switchblade knife opening. He ducked as Hammer swung the knife at him, then kicked out in the direction of Hammer’s hand, trying to force him to drop the knife. He missed, and Hammer drove toward him, the knife still in his hand. Matt grabbed Hammer’s wrist and twisted, hard. Small bones crunched as they broke. Hammer screamed and dropped the knife. He went down to his knees. Matt finished him off with a series of blows to the head. He lay on the floor, unmoving. Matt kicked him in the ribs. “Lyin’ sack of shit,” he muttered.

Matt took a moment to catch his breath, his hands on his knees, then turned his attention to Hammer’s men. Only two of them were still standing. Luke took one of them out of the fight with a single blow. Matt dodged a punch from the last one, then leaped and twisted, landing a kick to his collarbone. The man grabbed his shoulder but didn’t go down. Matt came in close and got him in a chokehold. He lost consciousness and slid to the floor.

Matt stood in the middle of the room, panting. He tilted his head. “Damn. They’re all out. And we can’t wait for them to come around and tell us what we want to know. The downstairs neighbor is calling 911.”

Luke sighed. “Let’s get outta here.”

After leaving Luke in Harlem, Matt went to his apartment to change into jeans and a clean shirt before he returned to the hospital. Anna and Ed Nelson arrived shortly after midnight. After being greeted with tears and hugs, they settled in to wait with Theo, Marci, Karen, and Matt.

Sometime during the night, Karen stood up and turned to him. “Walk with me?” she asked.

Matt got to his feet and took her arm. They made their way to the cafeteria. It was closed at that hour, but Karen bought a cup of coffee from one of the vending machines outside the entrance. It smelled awful, burned and bitter. Matt declined when she asked if he wanted a cup.

She took a sip of coffee, then asked, “So – you and Luke, you found Hammer?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“And?”

“We didn’t get what we needed. He denied everything. He was lying, of course.”

“And the shooter?” Karen pressed.

Matt shook his head grimly. “Nothing.”

“Damn.” They sat on a bench in silence while Karen drank her coffee. “Foggy’s gonna be OK, you know,” she said. “He has to be.”

“I hope,” Matt whispered, touching the crucifix he wore around his neck, under his shirt. Karen reached out and took his hand. When she finished her coffee, they walked back to the waiting room in silence, hand in hand.

As soon as Karen and Matt walked through the waiting-room door, Marci was on her feet. She met them halfway. “Can we talk, Matt?” she said.

Matt stopped and turned to face her. “Sure,” he said.

Leaving them to talk one-on-one, Karen kept going and took the seat Marci had just vacated, next to Anna Nelson.

Marci walked to the far side of the room and sat down. Matt followed and sat next to her. “Karen told me what Luke said, about John Hammer. Did you find out anything?”

“Not really,” he replied, frowning. “Not about the shooter. But Hammer was definitely behind it. He denied it, of course, but he was lying.”

“Damn,” Marci swore, shaking her head. She sat silently for a minute, then took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been thinking, and I . . . I owe you an apology.”

Behind his glasses, Matt raised his eyebrows quizzically. “For what?”

“I blamed you for Foggy getting shot,” Marci explained. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Matt told her. “It was my fault.”

“No way. You weren’t even around when Foggy was working with Luke to take Hammer down.”

“That’s the point,” Matt argued. “If I hadn’t blown up Nelson & Murdock, if I was around, none of this would have happened.”

“Bullshit,” Marci declared firmly. “Foggy chose to work with Luke. You had nothing to do with it. Foggy was going to be a ‘crime fighter’ – ” She did the air quotes thing automatically, not knowing if Matt could pick up the gesture. “ – with you or without you. If not Hammer, some other bad guy would have come after him, sooner or later.”

“But – ” Matt began.

Marci cut him off. “No ‘buts.’ He’s a grown-ass man. He chose to take on the bad guys, just like you do, just like Daredevil does. Don’t you dare diminish him.”

“I’m not,” Matt protested, “but this is on me.”

“Just because you feel guilty, that doesn’t mean it’s your fault.” Marci stood up and walked away. “Jesus, Murdock,” she muttered under her breath, “get over yourself.”

Matt pressed his lips together, then leaned back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest.

Matt dozed off shortly before dawn, but he was jolted awake when his phone announced, “Luke, Luke, Luke.”

He answered it. “Hey, Luke, what’s up?”

“I just got a call from Misty Knight,” Luke said, his voice grim. “A jogger found a DOA in a wooded area in Morningside Park. A sniper’s rifle was on the ground next to him.”

Matt walked across the room, away from Karen, Marci, and the Nelsons. “The shooter?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Probably. The cops think he was killed somewhere else and dumped in the park with the rifle.”

“They get an ID?”

“Yeah. Cortez Wright, ex-military, worked at Hammer’s auto-repair shop.”

“Son of a bitch,” Matt swore. “So Hammer was behind it. That lying prick.”

“I’m guessing bullets fired from the rifle are gonna match the ones they found at your office and, uh, took out of Nelson.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” Luke paused for a moment, then asked, “You think they have enough to pin it on Hammer?”

Matt considered this, frowning. He thought out loud. “Enough to bring him in for questioning, sure. And maybe enough to revoke his bail. Maybe not enough to charge him as an accomplice or co-conspirator – unless we can connect him to the gun.”

“I’ll lean on Turk, see what I can get out of him.”

“Good idea. But what we really need is someone who’ll flip on him.”

Luke sighed. “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, man.”

Matt was about to end the call, when Luke asked, “How’s Nelson?”

“Still with us.”

“Good. I’m praying for him.”

“Thanks.” Matt ended the call and went back to his seat next to Karen.

Marci

The clock on the wall of the waiting room said 9:32 a.m. when Marci looked up to see Dr. Robertson coming through the door. He crossed the room and stood in front of the Nelsons. After Theo introduced him to Anna and Ed, Robertson pulled up a chair and sat facing them. Marci, Karen, and Matt dragged their chairs closer and listened in.

“He had a good night,” the surgeon began. “His vital signs are stable, and there are no signs of bleeding or infection.”

“Thank God,” Anna breathed.

“We’ve taken out his breathing tube,” Robertson continued. “He’s awake and breathing on his own. All things considered, he’s doing well. You can see him now, one at a time.”

Anna started to get to her feet, but Theo stopped her with a hand on her arm. “No,” he said firmly. “It should be Marci. She’s the one he needs to see.”

“OK,” Robertson said, turning toward Marci. “A nurse will be by shortly. She’ll take you in to see him. But only for a few minutes.”

Marci chewed her lip anxiously as she waited for the nurse. She was thinking about what Karen had said. Karen was right: she had already decided to forgive Foggy for keeping Matt’s secret. Now that she knew, she even understood, more or less, why he did it. She could never stay mad at Foggy, anyway. She also understood why Foggy proposed to her after the attack on the Bulletin. Nothing like a brush with death to give you clarity about what’s important. Now she had the same clarity after coming so close to losing Foggy.

She glanced up at Matt. She still found it hard to believe the blind man sitting quietly across the room from her was the masked vigilante the city knew as Daredevil. Get used to it, she told herself, this is your life now. She sighed inwardly. Her life had become a lot more complicated in the last couple of weeks, but one thing hadn’t changed: she loved Foggy, and Foggy loved her. She hoped it would be enough. Living in Daredevil’s world wasn’t going to be easy. But at least they would be together. She would make sure of that.

After what seemed like an eternity but was only about fifteen minutes, a nurse arrived to take her to Foggy. She stifled a gasp when she walked into the room and saw him for the first time. A sheet covered him below the waist. Above the sheet she could see the top of a large bandage encircling his midsection. Tubes and wires connected him to the medical equipment positioned around the bed. A steady beeping came from the machine she assumed was a heart monitor. He seemed to hear her enter and opened his eyes. When he saw her, a flurry of quick beeps came from the monitor, and a huge grin lit up his face. She rushed to his bedside and gently took hold of his hand. A few tears rolled down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled back at him.

“Foggy Bear,” she said softly.

“Marci,” he croaked. He gestured toward the rolling table next to the bed. She found some moist swabs and handed one to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, with the swab in his mouth.

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it, then leaned over the bed and kissed him on the forehead. “Oh, Foggy Bear, I was so scared,” she said.

“It’s OK, babe, it’s OK,” he assured her, stroking her hand.

“No, it isn’t. I was a total bitch. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Well, I kinda did, you know.”

“OK, I forgive you. But let’s not talk about that,” she said briskly. “You’re gonna be OK, that’s all that matters. And I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do. I love you, too,” Foggy whispered.

Marci heard footsteps approaching. She glanced up and saw a nurse standing outside the door. Her time was almost up. “So what d’you say, Franklin Nelson, will you marry me?” she asked.

Foggy stared at her in stunned silence. Then he found his voice. “Really? You’re serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Marci said solemnly. She beamed at him.

Foggy beamed back at her. “Yes.”

Epilogue

Ten days after the shooting, a man named Darius Marshall walked into the Harlem precinct. Like his cousin Cortez Wright, he worked for John Hammer. Acting on Hammer’s orders, he acquired a sniper’s rifle from Turk Barrett three days before the shooting. And he was present when Hammer gave the gun to Wright and ordered him to “kill that pissant lawyer, Nelson.” He agreed to testify against Hammer in exchange for a reduced sentence for his role in the shooting. Months later, Marshall’s testimony helped convict Hammer of attempted murder and conspiracy.

Three months to the day after the shooting, Marci Stahl and Foggy Nelson were married in a small but joyous ceremony in the back yard of her parents’ Long Island home. Marci’s parents walked down the aisle with her. Her sister Caroline was her matron of honor. Standing next to Foggy in the gazebo were three “best men”: his brother Theo and his two best friends, Matt and Karen.