Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Matt Murdock was happy.

His body hurt, he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, and he could feel the dull throb of a fresh bruise blooming on his cheek. But still…he was happy. 

Warm morning light stretched across the bed. He lay on his side, eyes closed, lazily tracing the curve of his wife’s shoulder with the pads of his fingers. She smelled like citrus and soap and him.

Foggy made a low, purring sound in the back of her throat, the one that never failed to make Matt smile.

“Feels good,” she sighed.

Grinning, he scooted closer, ran a finger down her nose, then pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she groaned. “Oh my God, Matt.” Her fingers brushed the swelling on his cheek. “People are going to think I beat you.”

“Beating a blind guy,” he murmured, keeping his eyes shut as he leaned into her cool fingers. “That’s messed up, Foggy.”

She huffed a laugh. “Rough night?”

“Not until the end.”

“Do I even want to know?”

Matt hesitated. Crowbar. “Nah. You probably don’t.”

“You’re going to age me prematurely.” she sighed. 

“Good. I like older women.”

“You’re a freak.”

“Says the girl with a blind guy fetish.”

Foggy gasped, scandalized. “I do not have a blind guy fetish! If anything, I have a… Matt Murdock fetish.”

He laughed and pressed his forehead to hers. God, she made everything feel lighter, brighter. Normal.

He rolled onto her, kissing her neck, hands running up and down her body like he couldn’t get enough. Because honestly, he couldn’t.  She squirmed, one hand tracing circles across his back, the other threading into his hair.

 Jesus, he loved her.

Suddenly, Foggy’s eyes shot open. “Shit! What time is it?”

“Don’t care.” Matt murmured through another kiss against her neck. 

“I’m serious! Where’s the clock?” She twisted out from underneath him.

 “Babe, I can’t see the clock. Haven’t been able to for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The mattress shifted as she leaned over to check. Then she gasped. “We’re late! Like—late late!”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. A few hours of sleep was already catching up to him. “No. Come back to bed and let me love you.”

“Come on Murdock, get that beautiful butt out of bed! We’ve got a world to save—one case at a time!” she sing-songed as her bare feet padded to the bathroom.

Matt yanked the pillow over his head. “Foggy, have mercy.”

“You have super hearing. Don’t pretend you don’t hear me.” Her singing was muffled by the sound of her toothbrush. 

Matt smiled under the pillow, listening to her hum through toothpaste. Even half-dead from exhaustion, he felt like he had the whole world. 

Matt finally dragged himself out of bed after Foggy threatened to sing to him until he did. He got dressed, yawning as he made his way into the kitchen. 

“Coffee. Left.” She announced, stuffing her laptop into her bag.

Matt’s left hand grabbed coffee she’d already poured into a thermos. 

“You need some pain meds too or…?”

“Nah. I’m good.” He yawned. “We got anything to eat?”

“I have half a granola bar in my purse.”

“Breakfast of champions.” He chuckled, taking a swig of his coffee. 

“I’ll see if I can coerce Karen to go on a donut run.” Foggy said, handing him his bag and white cane. 

She stood up on her tip toes and kissed his cheek quickly, careful of the bruise, then threaded her arm through his. “Now hurry up, partner. We’re already late to save the world.”

***

When they walked into Nelson, Murdock, & Page, Karen was already there. 

“Morning, you two lovebirds. And yes, I’m judging you for being late,” she said with a smirk. 

“Hopefully not too judgmental for a donut run?” Foggy asked.

“If you buy, I’m in.” Karen replied cheerfully. “Anyway, Foggy, your favorite new client called again today.”

Foggy groaned, shedding off her coat. “Dumb Benny?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Dumb Benny?”

“That’s literally what they call him, Matt. Dumb Benny.”

“We’re defending a guy named Dumb Benny?”

“No, apparently I’m the one who got stuck defending a guy named Dumb Benny,” Foggy sighed.

“Wait…” A smirk quirked Matt’s lips. “Don’t tell me he’s the wine guy.”

Karen frowned. “Wine guy?”

“Yeah he got arrested for stealing twenty cases of Lafite Rothschild. Said he found them on the subway.“ Matt chuckled. 

“Wow.” Karen snorted. “He sounds really-.”

“Dumb! I know!” Foggy said, exasperated.

“Uh-huh. Well, Dumb Benny called and said to call him back right away. He says something wrong.” Karen said, brow furrowed. “Might be nothing, but you know how these things go.”

“It’s always urgent with that guy,” Foggy muttered, annoyed.

Matt felt a flicker of unease. He didn’t know where it came from. There were no upticks in pulses, no changes in anything he could perceive. But something felt off, and he didn't know why. 

Foggy flipped open Benny’s file with practiced ease, a small grin tugging at her lips. “Well, I’ll check on Benny and try not to lose brain cells.”

Matt smiled faintly, brushing her hand as they crossed the office before settling at his desk.

Everything sounded normal. Karen’s heartbeat was steady, Foggy’s fingers tapped absently against the desk, the shitty old radiator hissed in its usual uneven rhythm. Ordinary. Too ordinary.

But something gnawed at him.

He told himself everything was fine. He almost believed it.

***

“I’m telling you Foggy, some serious shit is going on down here.” Benny hissed into the phone. “People are watching me. “

Foggy pinched the skin between her nose. “Who’s watching you, Benny?”

“How should I know?” He snapped. “But they keep hanging around! Feel like I can’t even go outside and smoke.” 

“Uh-huh. You think it has something to do with the wine you found?” She pressed. 

“I mean…it could.” Benny coughed. “But…I didn’t take that wine! You and I both know I found it and I was gonna turn it in, so why would anyone be upset?”

“You tell me Benny, why would anyone be upset?”

“I mean…okay so let’s for a second I didn’t find it. Or I did, but…not on the subway?”

“Benny.” Foggy said sharply. “Are you telling me you didn’t find that wine?”

“I mean…maybe?”

“I’m your lawyer. What you tell me is confidential. I’m here to defend you, but to do that I need you to tell me the truth.”

“I told you the truth!” Benny argued. “I found wine! I didn’t steal it! Now people are after me!”

“You found twenty cases of extremely expensive French wine on the subway? Come on Benny! Help me help you!”

Foggy laid her head on her desk. She wanted to scream. He obviously stole that wine from somewhere and with every word he said, she realized just how much work she had ahead of her to untangle this mess.

After he’d hung up Matt poked his head in. “He sounds…frustrating.”

“Understatement.” Foggy groaned, rubbing her temples. 

“What’s your plan with this?” 

Foggy shrugged, thumbing through his file. “I don’t know. Not guilty by reason of stupidity?” She leaned back in her chair. “Find a way to cast reasonable doubt. If he really wants to stick to this subway story, we’re going to have to figure out a way to somehow convince a jury that there’s a chance he could have found it.”

“He’s lying. He was that entire phone call, every detail about the wine.”

“I figured. Didn’t need your lie detector ears for that.” 

Matt seemed like he was studying her for a long time. “I can take the lead on this one. If you want.”

She shook her head. “Thanks babe, but I got it.” 

“You sure?" Something in his tone made her pause. 

“Why?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I… I don’t know.” Matt bit his lip. “Nothing’s wrong but…I’ve got a gut feeling.”

“About Benny?” Even without the heightened senses, she still trusted Matt’s intuition. 

“I guess?” Matt sighed, almost frustrated. “I wish I could explain it.”

“Well, Benny lied the entire phone call. Maybe that’s it?” 

“Maybe.” Matt muttered, but didn’t look convinced. “Just…promise me if he or this case gets weird, you’ll tell me. Even if it’s nothing. Even if it’s just a feeling.”

Foggy wanted to laugh it off, chalk it up to Matt’s overprotective streak. But the crease in brow made her a bit worried. 

“Yeah.” she promised. “I will.” 

Chapter Text

“Okay. Tylenol—where is it?” Foggy murmured, digging through their medicine cabinet.

She was getting it for that swollen bruise on Matt’s cheek. He didn’t usually take anything, but she’d convinced him after he’d winced when she’d pressed a kiss along his jaw. 

Foggy moved a few bottles of vitamins, her extra sets of contacts, her tampon box—.

Tampon box.

Foggy froze.

When was the last time she’d used those? 

Foggy ran through the dates in her head. Then she ran through them again. 

Woah. She was late. Not just late. She was late-late. 

Was she…was she pregnant?

She and Matt hadn’t been trying, but they definitely weren’t preventing. 

Her thoughts started bouncing between possibilities, worries, and dreams.

She pictured a tiny version of her and Matt. A baby with his dimples, little hands curling around his fingers. 

Her excitement was paired with nervousness. Could she handle it? Could Matt? Did he even want kids? She was kicking herself for not asking. 

Then she thought about it and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Matt would be a great dad. He was kind and patient. Protective. Focused. Loved fiercely. She would never even want to have kids with anyone else. 

But then an image of Matt in the mask- his red helmet and devil horns- flashed in her mind.

Matt could be a dad. 

But could Daredevil? 

She’d accepted Daredevil as a part of her husband. But could she when they had a baby?

But even as those fears gnawed at her, excitement still bubbled in her chest. She pressed her palm to her stomach almost instinctively. The idea that there might already be something growing inside her made her pulse quicken, made her smile despite the worry.

“Babe?” Matt called from the other room, his voice gentle. “You okay?”

He must have noticed her pulse jumping all over the place. 

Foggy took a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to calm her pulse. She straightened, forcing a casual tone. “Yeah, I’m good.”

It wasn’t even a sure thing. She’d buy a test tomorrow. Then she’d know. She grabbed the Tylenol and made her way into their bedroom, trying to keep her breathing steady. 

Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed, head cocked, brow furrowed. “You sure? Your heart sounded like a pinball machine in there.”

Foggy handed him the Tylenol wordlessly, then crawled into bed. Matt swallowed the Tylenol, then laid next to her, pulling her to him. He was still, like he was waiting for her to say something.

“Can I ask you something?” She blurted out into his shoulder. 

“Yeah. Shoot.” 

“Do you ever think about having kids?”

Silence stretched between them, and Foggy could feel her heart hammering. She knew Matt could definitely hear it.

“Well…” Matt shrugged. “I never really thought about it. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever get married. Not until you.”

“You didn’t?” She asked softly. 

“Nope.” He gave a small laugh. “I’m a lot, Fogs. Blind, vigilante, argumentative lawyer…”

“Oh, don’t act modest. You never had trouble getting women to sleep with you,” she muttered.

Matt laughed. “I said I was sorry! I didn’t know you liked me like that!”

“You friend-zoned me for years, and dragged other women around in front of me like it was your job, Matthew.”

“Like I said, I had no idea! But hey, you’re the one I married. I proposed after, what, three months?” He kissed her hair. “That’s got to count for something.”

”Three months? Technically it was more like twelve years and three months.” 

“Hey, I definitely packed twelve years of romance into those three months. You have to admit.” He chuckled. 

“I’m rolling my eyes,” Foggy grumbled. But her chest felt warm because he really had swept her off her feet in three months. 

“But yeah… the kid thing.” Matt twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. She held her breath. “With you? I’d have kids.”

Her heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t exactly have a great childhood, so I don’t know if I’d be good at it. But I’d try. Really hard. I think I could handle it with you.”

“You’d be good at it.” she whispered.

He smiled into her hair. “Thanks, Foggy.”

A pause.

“Would you want kids?” His voice was softer now. “With me?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, almost…worried?

She crawled on top of him so she was straddling him. Her fingers gently traced the bridge of his nose as she smiled.

“Well, duh.”

A grin broke across Matt’s face. “Good answer, Mrs. Murdock.”

“Thanks, Mr. Murdock.” she replied, the last of her nerves finally settling. 

“Is that what you were thinking about in the bathroom? If I wanted kids?”

“Uh-huh.” It wasn’t a lie — just not the whole truth. Her pulse skipped again, and she prayed Matt wouldn’t ask more.

He was quiet for a second too long. “Okay.”

He knew there was more, but for now he wasn’t pressing. 

Instead, he grabbed her hips and flashed her a smile. “Just throwing this out there. I’m also fine if we want to start practicing making a baby.”

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah. Practice makes perfect. We should start right away.” 

Foggy laughed and leaned over to kiss him, her mouth lingering against his. He deepened the kiss, one of his hands threading into her hair. The other slid its way under her shirt, his fingers skating across her skin. He always touched her like she was the one thing he couldn’t get enough of. 

His mouth found the sensitive skin of her neck, and she gasped. 

Soon she was lost in him. His mouth, his hands, his whispers against her skin, the way his arms held her as they moved together. 

Later she was curled against him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. She ran her hand over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. A shiver ran through her as he traced the curve of her spine. 

“If that was practice, you get an A.” She chuckled. 

She felt him smile against her hair, obviously pleased. “You know me. I’ve always been an overachiever.”

They laid in silence for a while until he spoke again, his voice soft and heavy, like he was drifting off to sleep.  “I’m so lucky.” 

“Me too.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

Matt kissed the top of her head, nuzzling her hair. “I love you too.”

Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach beneath the sheets. She didn’t even realize she’d done it until she felt Matt’s breathing shift slightly beside her.

He didn’t say anything.

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of Matt’s heart lull her to sleep. 

Tomorrow.

She’d know for sure tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Foggy leaned against the edge of her desk, the tiny plastic stick still clutched in her hand. She’d taken it when Matt was down at the courthouse. 

Two pink lines.

She was pregnant. 

She was feeling a million different things at once—excitement, nervousness, happiness, a tinge of nausea. 

She was going to be a mom. Matt was going to be a dad. 

I’d have kids with you, he’d said.

A smile split her face. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Foggy! I need your legal genius for a sec,” Karen walked in with the stack of papers,then froze when she caught sight of Foggy.  She pointed at the stick in her hand. “What. Is. That.”

Foggy held up the test like a trophy. “I’m pregnant.” 

“We’re…happy right?”

Foggy smiled. “Yes. Very.” 

Karen didn’t move. Then she squealed, throwing up the papers around her like confetti. “Oh my God!” 

She and Foggy hugged tightly, both gigging. 

“Dibs on godmother!” Karen said, holding her hand up.

“Of course! Who else?”

“Does Matt know?”

“No. I literally just found out like a minute ago.”

Karen hopped from foot to foot, giddy. “How are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know.” Foggy said, breathless. 

“I’ll start looking on Pinterest.” Karen immediately pulled out her phone and started scrolling. “I want him to cry.”

Foggy could count the times she'd seen her broody husband get teary-eyed on one hand. “We’ll need something super cute. He’s got iron tear ducts.” She giggled. “ Also, we need to try to be  as calm as possible. His bloodhound senses will pick up on this before we even have the chance.”  

Karen took a deep breath. “You’re right. So, I’ll clean up all the papers I've thrown around the room, then I will calmly send you cute ideas that will make the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen cry.”

Suddenly, Foggy’s phone buzzed sharply on the desk. She glanced down, heart sinking a little when she saw the caller ID:

Benny.

Karen noticed the shift immediately. “Uh-oh. What now?”

Foggy groaned. “Benny. Of course.”

“Tell him to call back!”

Foggy  shook her head. Something in her gut told her to pick up. She answered, voice steady but wary. “Hey, Benny. What’s up?”

There was a nervous edge to his voice. “Foggy, I... I need to clear something up.”

“That’s great, Benny. About what?”

“I didn’t find that wine on the subway,” Benny admitted, voice dropping low. “It was... at some warehouse.”

“A warehouse?”

“Yeah, but I want it on record that I did not steal it!”

Foggy ignored him. “I need details Benny. What kind of warehouse?Where was it?”

Benny was quiet. 

“Benny, you need to be straight with me if you want any help.”

“I found it down by the docks. In Red Hook.”

“Brooklyn?” 

“Yeah.” His breathing grew ragged. “People are watching me, Foggy. People from that warehouse.”

Foggy’s grip tightened around the phone. Red Hook wasn’t just some random location. It was a port, miles away from the subway story Benny had been spinning. 

If Benny had stolen from the wrong person’s warehouse…

“Okay,” she said slowly, forcing calm into her voice. “This changes things. How do you know people are watching you?”

“Because people are hanging around my building! People I don’t know! This is some Men in Black shit, Foggy!”

“Okay I got it.” She replied, keeping her voice low. “It’s gonna be fine Benny. Got anywhere you can lay low for the next few days until we figure out the next move?”

He paused. “My cousin’s got a place. I can stay there.”

“Okay good. Go there. Be really discreet about it. Take a few things. Don’t make it look like you’re leaving. And if something happens before then, call the police. Okay?”

Benny grumbled something but then sighed. “Got it.”

“And this is the entire story, right?” Foggy pressed. “You found that wine in a warehouse in Red Hook. That’s it? Because this is serious, and I can’t help you if you’re not honest.”

Benny was quiet for a long time, almost like he wanted to say more. “I told you. I didn’t steal shit. I found it.”

Jesus Christ, this guy.

“Fine. Okay. Well go with that right now. But if you think of anything else you’d like to tell me, call me. We’ll plan to meet up sometime this week and figure out the next steps. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Foggy. For everything.”

“No problem. Keep me updated.”

She hung up—only to nearly jump out of her skin when Matt’s voice came from right behind her.

“He’s telling the truth. About Red Hook.”

“Matt!” Foggy clutched her chest. “Oh my God, you need a bell!”

“Sorry.” 

Foggy exhaled. “So that part is the truth? What about the people watching him?” 

“Well, he at least thinks it’s true. Not sure if it is.” Matt leaned close to her. “Foggy I want you off of this.”

Foggy balked. “What? Why?”

“Because something is wrong.” He shot back. “He went from the subway to Red Hook. He’s hiding something else. Who the hell knows what that is?” 

“Matt, you’re acting like this is my first shady case. You made me defend Frank Castle for God’s sake. I got shot in the leg for that one.”

Matt winced. 

“Besides, don’t we have some monthly “shady client” quota?” She smirked, trying to make it light. “Are we really doing our job if one of us isn’t in danger of getting maimed or killed?”

“Foggy that is not funny.”

Foggy’s smile faded. She touched his arm gently. “Hey. I’m sorry. Dumb joke. I know you’re worried.”

“Can you just let me take it?” Matt pleaded. “Please? I don’t know why but something is off, and I really don’t want you touching this.”

She wanted to argue. She was a badass lawyer- she’d handled bigger cases than Dumb Benny. But something was clearly bothering Matt.

“Okay.” She said gently. “How about we do it together, and if it really ramps up you take the lead. How’s that sound?”

Matt didn’t look pleased, but the edge of panic left his expression. “Deal. Let me know if he calls again.” 

“Aye aye captain.” She replied, giving him a salute. 

Matt snorted, the tension leaving him slightly. “You’re a dork.” Then something in his expression softened. He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “But you’re my dork.” 

***

The bell above Josie’s door jingled as Matt, Foggy, and Karen slipped inside. They were greeted by the familiar hum of chatter, low music, and smell of cheap booze. 

Josie grunted when they came in, which was about the warmest greeting one could expect from her. 

Then slid into their normal booth, and Matt could feel the energy vibrating between Karen and Foggy. He could hear them both giggling, their pulses were both up, and Foggy’s legs were bouncing  under the table.

“Okay, what are you two up to? You’ve been giggling nonstop,” Matt said, brow furrowed but smiling.

Foggy shot him a mock-innocent look. “Nothing! Really.”

Karen grinned. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Matt leaned forward. “Because your hearts are racing, you won’t stop laughing, and you both smell like nervous sweat.”

“Don’t sniff my sweat, or I’m filing an HR complaint,” Karen giggled.

“I am HR, and I take that very seriously,” Foggy piped up.

Matt rolled his eyes. “You two always gang up on me. We need another person in the office as a tie breaker.”

“I mean, technically—” Foggy’s knee bumped Karen’s under the table, and she clammed up. Silence fell for a beat.

Matt leaned forward, fingers brushing the edge of the table. “Alright, that’s it. You’ve officially piqued my curiosity. Spill it.”

“You’ll find out soon,” Foggy said cheekily, her foot tapping his leg.

“And you’re gonna love it so much you may even cry,” Karen added.

“Cry?” Matt scoffed. “Super reassuring. Thanks.”

As they erupted into giggles, Matt cocked his head, listening to the familiar thrum of Foggy’s heart, the one he knew better than even his own. It had been all over the place since last night when she’d asked him about—.

Matt’s stomach flipped. Kids.

Was she pregnant? He remembered the way her hand had brushed her stomach last night.

Matt listened carefully. No faint heartbeat under Foggy’s. No irritability, no nausea, no scent change. She seemed…normal.

Maybe Foggy was going to tell him she was ready to try for a baby?

Either way, the thought sent a rush of excitement through him. He’d meant it when he’d said he’d have kids with her.

Plus, he was really excited about making babies with Foggy. 

She noticed him thinking and poked his leg again playfully. “Hey! Turn off your super senses! You’re gonna ruin it!”

“That’s cheating!” Karen snapped, tossing a balled up napkin at him. 

Matt grinned, batting it away. “Okay fine. I’ll be patient.”

“Good.” Foggy said, sounding pleased. 

The three of them spent the evening sitting in the booth, talking and laughing. The air charged with an undercurrent of excitement and happiness. Matt had cheap beer, Karen had a cocktail that was pretty much all liquor, and Foggy had a soda with a lime

That definitely made Matt suspicious, but he didn’t say anything. He’d promised to be patient, after all. 

The energy was happy. Good. Matt kept rubbing his leg against Foggy’s, running his thumb across her knuckles,  pressing soft kisses along her neck and  jaw whenever Karen wasn’t looking. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the gentle warmth of a blush blooming across her skin.

“Well you’re being awfully sweet.” Foggy said, voice light. 

Matt kissed the back of her hand. “What do you mean? I’m always sweet.”

“You’re being extra sweet.” She corrected, smiling. 

“Yeah, and it’s grossing me out.” Karen snorted from across the table. “Seriously, it’s like watching my parents. You guys want a private booth or something?”

Matt chuckled. “I mean, if you’re offering—”

“Ew! Gross. No.” Karen pretended to gag. “You guys do not pay me enough for this.”

Foggy laughed. “We’re just in love, Karen. You’ll live.”

Just in love. Matt heard that and wondered for the thousandth time how he deserved a woman like Foggy.

She was his best friend and had been for years, before he’d finally got his head out of his ass and realized she was the one. She’d seen him at his lowest, stood by him even when he didn’t always deserve it. God, she loved him even though he wore a devil mask and fought crime in his free time. 

He was so in love with her sometimes it took his breath away. 

“Hey, you alright?” Foggy asked, her voice suddenly soft, noticing the quiet shift in his demeanor.

He smiled, leaning in to kiss her. It was a slow, lingering kiss this time, as if to remind himself she was real. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Foggy’s phone suddenly buzzed on the table. She flipped it over, looked at ID, and Matt heard her heart rate spike up.

“It’s Benny.”

“Now?” Karen asked incredulously. 

“Yeah. I gotta take this.” Foggy slid out of the booth, holding up the phone to her ear. “Benny? Yeah it’s me. Hold on— I can’t hear you.”

She walked towards the back so that she could hear him better. Matt listened to her go, jaw tight.

“You’re listening in, right?” Karen asked. 

Matt nodded, focusing on Foggy. 

“Benny, slow down.”

“I can’t Foggy! There’s someone here in the apartment! He’s hanging out in the fire escape! Tapping on  my window like a…like a fucking demon!”

Matt shoved himself out of the booth.

“Okay. Got it.” Foggy’s heartbeat was through the roof. “We’re gonna call the police.”

Matt could hear the hysteria bubbling in Benny’s voice. “I lied to you. I stole that wine from a warehouse. Down in Red Hook. They told me there was a bunch of expensive shit just sitting there! He’s…he’s gotta be from there Foggy. You gotta help me!”

Matt snatched the phone out of Foggy’s hand. “What’s your address?” He snapped. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Your other lawyer. Address. Now”

Benny rattled it off, his breathing ragged. Matt caught the metallic tap of boots, the scrape of the fire escape railing. Every instinct screamed danger. He handed the phone back to Foggy.

“Benny, hang up and call the police. Now. No more talking,” she said firmly.

“I… I fucked up, Foggy. I really fucked up.”

Matt was already reaching for the duffel under the table. Karen’s eyes went wide. She knew exactly what he was grabbing.

“Matt,” Foggy’s hand gripped his arm. “The police are on their way. Please don’t go—”

“I can get there faster,” he snapped, voice tight. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it.”

“I know, but we don’t know what you’re walking into. Please—”

“Foggy,” he said, cupping her chin and tilting her face toward him. “I’ll be right back. Then you can tell me all about my big surprise. Okay?”

Her voice trembled. “Promise?”

“Always,” he said, forcing a confident smile. “You can time me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And just like that, he was gone, duffel slung over his shoulder.

Inside, Foggy pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, looking  into the empty space he’d left behind.

Chapter Text

The night air hit him like a slap as Matt vaulted up the fire escape, the city’s sounds crashing into him all at once. The traffic roaring, sirens wailing somewhere uptown, the steady pulse of footsteps on the street below thundered in his ears. His mask clung to his face, every nerve in his body hummed with focus.

Benny’s voice was still in his ear, panicked and stammering.

 He’s hanging out on the fire escape, just tapping my window like a fucking demon!

When he was still a few blocks away, Matt managed to pick up on Benny’s heartbeat.

It was weak. Quick. Shallow. 

The way it got when blood was already leaving the body. 

Matt pushed himself harder. He jumped and landed hard against the brick outside Benny’s building, hands gripping the cold steel of the fire escape. The smell of blood hit his nose. 

Shit. 

Matt couldn’t hear anything besides Benny’s ragged breathing when he crawled through the window. No tapping. No boots on the fire escape.

Benny’s “demon” wasn’t here anymore.

Matt found Benny in his living room, slumped against his couch. He was heaving, nostrils flared, blood pouring from a gunshot wound to his chest. His phone lay limply in his hand. His breath hitched when he saw Matt.

“N-no!” Benny moaned.

Matt approached him, squatting beside him, hands pressing at Benny’s wound. Matt knew it wouldn’t do any good. His heartbeat was already too slow, the smell of blood too strong. Even with the approaching sirens, it was too late.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help you.” He said gently. 

Benny coughed, blood spraying from his mouth, but the panic semed to eased a bit. 

“What happened? Who did this?”

“Mask…don’t know.” Benny wheezed out. 

“Did he say anything?” Matt pressed. 

“H-he…he asked…about…muh-my lawyer.” 

Matt froze. “Your lawyer?”

Benny nodded weakly. 

“What did you tell them?” Matt asked, his voice clipped, urgent. 

Benny shook his head.

Matt grabbed him by his shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I…I… Foggy M-Murdock.” He choked out.

Panicked clawed at Matt’s throat. 

This person who did this to Benny was after Foggy. 

His Foggy.

Benny’s head lolled against the couch cushion, his breath rattling, wet and shallow. Matt tightened his grip on him, desperate to keep him tethered.

Matt could feel him slipping away, and there was nothing—nothing—he could do to stop it.

The ambulance sirens screamed closer, but they might as well have been miles away.

“Stay with me. Benny. Stay with me.”

The heartbeat under his hand faltered. Skipped. Slowed.

Benny’s last exhale was a gurgle. Then there was silence.

Matt listened for a pulse. There was nothing. 

He bowed his head closer, voice rough. “God have mercy on you,” he whispered, making the sign of a cross with his  blood-slick fingers. “God forgive you.”

Matt stayed crouched there for half a second longer, his chest heaving. Foggy’s name still rang in his ears.

She wasn’t safe.

The thought slammed into him harder than any blow. His chest tightened, his breath caught, and the world seemed to constrict down to that single fact: Foggy was in danger.

He lurched to his feet, every muscle coiled to spring. He had to get back. Now.

He reached for his phone. He’d call her. Tell her to get out of Josie’s—

His hand came up empty.

The phone was still sitting in the booth.

“Fuck!” He roared in frustration

He launched himself out the window, down the fire escape, and into the night, sprinting faster than he thought possible.

Please God. Please God. Don’t let me be too late. 

***

Matt had been gone for a while. Well, it wasn’t really a while. Maybe ten minutes. But he said he’d be right back. 

“Don’t worry,” Karen said, swirling the straw in her drink. “He’ll be fine. Twenty minutes, tops.”

Foggy fiddled with the mint leaf in her mocktail, not quite smiling. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Benny’s paranoid. For all we know it was a cat outside or something.” 

Foggy shrugged, unconvinced. Matt wouldn’t run out like that if it wasn’t serious. 

God, she just needed him back here in one piece. 

Karen leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Besides, now that he’s gone, we can talk about how you’re gonna tell him. What are we thinking? A onesie? A bun in the oven? Baby bottle in the fridge?”

Foggy opened her mouth to answer—

Ping.

Over Karen’s shoulder, a black canister bounced once on the wooden floor. A stream of gray smoke hissed from its seams.

“Karen!” Foggy screamed. But it was too late.

BOOM.

The canister burst with a deafening crack. Smoke flooded the bar like a wave.

Screams.
Glass shattered.
Chairs scraped back in panic.

Foggy shot to her feet, hand clutching Karen’s.
“Get low—toward the exit!” she shouted, her voice half-lost in the chaos.

The crowd surged. People shoved blindly for the door.

 Then there was the sound of deafening gunfire. 

Screams ripped through the haze. Patrons stumbled back inside, tripping over chairs and each other.

The smoke thinned just enough to reveal a figure in the doorway. Black clothes. Balaclava. A gun. His eyes swept the room, then stopped on Foggy.

“Hey, Phoebe.” Calm. Almost friendly. Like an old friend.

Her stomach plummeted. Shit. That voice. She knew that voice.

Benjamin Poindexter.

Walking. How was he even walking?

Karen fumbled for the gun in her purse, but Poindexter was faster. His gun was raised. 

Foggy didn’t even have time to scream. 

CRASH.

Glass erupted as the front window shattered. A figure slammed into Poindexter from the side. They hit the ground hard, rolling—hands, elbows, fists. 

A flash of red.

Matt.

The bar erupted. Screams pressed against Foggy’s ears, the air thick with liquor and smoke. She dragged Karen low as the two men tore through the chaos like animals. There was blood splattered on the floor. She didn’t know if it was Matt’s or Poindexter’s. 

Poindexter  hurled forks, knives, shattered glass. Every throw a bullet aimed right for Matt. 

“Come on!” Karen gasped, yanking Foggy toward the back exit.

The two were running when Karen suddenly howled out in pain, falling to her feet. A knife was buried in her shoulder.

“Karen!” Foggy dropped beside her.

“I’m fine!” she groaned, struggling to stand. 

Matt and Poindexter were still locked in. Both bleeding, both furious. Foggy’s breath caught when she saw the forks and knives stuck in Matt’s suit. 

Another knife was flung and embedded into Matt’s shoulder with a sickening thunk. He staggered but surged up and launched a brutal kick to Poindexter’s jaw. 

Poindexter hit the floor. 

Matt spotted Foggy and Karen, and bolted towards them, yanking them both to their feet like they weighed nothing.

“GO!” he roared, whipping around and deflecting a pool ball before it could cave in Karen’s skull.

Foggy didn’t want to. How could she leave him? He noticed her hesitation. 

“Foggy go!” 

She had to trust him. Karen was hurt. She had to get her out. 

Foggy pulled Karen toward the back door, dodging broken stools and overturned tables. Matt hurled Poindexter into the wall, wood and dry wall splintering. 

He hit the floor with a thud, momentarily dazed. 

Matt dropped to his knees, panting, his blood dripping into the floor. Forks and knives and pieces of glass were embedded in his suit, like a voodoo doll. 

Poindexter started to pull himself to his feet, groaning, his hand groping for something, anything, to throw at Matt. 

Foggy’s gaze darted across the wreckage. A pool stick lay by her feet. She snatched it up, lunged towards him, and swung it with all her weight.

CRACK.

The stick shattered across Poindexter’s skull. He reeled, then whipped around and slammed a cue ball into her jaw.

There was pain instantly. White-hot. Splitting. Like someone drove a baseball bat into her face.

Foggy collapsed, groaning, blood pouring from her mouth. 

“FOGGY!” Karen screamed.

Poindexter dove for her, yanking her up by her blouse. With a roar he hurled her into Josie’s liquor shelf. Bottles shattered, and she could feel glass in her arms, her back, her legs. Her body screamed in agony. 

Matt was on his feet and lunged towards them. Poindexter grabbed the broken pool stick and flung it into Matt’s arm. Matt staggered back. It was just long enough for Poindexter to turn toward Foggy and level his gun.

Staring down the barrel of his gun, her only thought was of the baby- the baby Matt didn’t even know about. All she could think to do was wrap her arms around her stomach and shut her eyes.

Chapter Text

Matt felt the shift instantly. Poindexter’s heartbeat, steady. Foggy’s, frantic. His own, surging.

Gritting his teeth he ripped the pool stick from his arm and reached for his baton.

“Don’t!” Karen’s voice. Desperate. Pleading. “She’s pregnant!”

The word hit Matt like a freight train.

Pregnant?

His chest seized. His grip on the baton slipped. Just for a heartbeat.

That slip. That heartbeat of hesitation. Poindexter saw it. Eyes shifted from Matt to Foggy. He smiled. 

Then the gun went off.

The sound tore through Matt’s eardrums. He smelled the sharp tang of her blood, heard the bullet slash through soft tissue, heard Foggy’s gasp and Karen’s bloodcurdling scream. 

“Congratulations.” Poindexter said, satisfied.

A sound ripped from Matt’s throat, something guttural, inhuman. He charged and drove his baton as hard as he could into Poindexter’s face with a sickening crack. 

Poindexter hit the ground, he rolled over, looked up at Matt through a bloodied smile, and laughed. 

He laughed in his face. 

He reached up and patted Matt’s leg. Like they just got done playing a game. 

“Daddy’s too slow.” He chuckled. 

Matt felt his mind snap. Screaming, he fell on top of him, swinging wildly. He didn’t care what he hit—face, throat, shoulder.

Blood spattered across the broken glass.
Poindexter’s breathing grew wet and ragged, but he smiled through it. Like it was funny.

”Why?” Matt screamed. His only response was garbled laughter. 

Matt couldn’t stop hitting him. He wanted him dead. He was going to kill him. 

Karen’s voice cut through the haze.

“Please Foggy, please!”

Then a whisper in the chaos. 

“Matt.”

He froze.

No one else could have heard it. It wasn’t even a whisper, more a whoosh of air. A breath. 

Foggy. 

“M-Matt.”

Still alive. Still mine.

His hands hovered over Dex’s pulped face, blood slick on his gloves.

Stop it. Foggy. Help Foggy. 

Matt slammed one last blow to Poindexter’s temple—enough to keep him down for a while—and scrambled to Foggy’s side. 

She lay sprawled on the broken glass, breathing shallow, her blouse soaked in her blood. Her hands were weakly pressing her wound. The smell of her blood was so strong that Matt could taste it in his mouth, and he resisted the urge to gag. 

Karen was at her side, trembling, trying to hold pressure even with a knife in her shoulder. Matt could smell both of their tears. 

“She’s losing too much—Matt, I can’t—”

Matt fell to his knees beside her. His hands found the wound with gentle precision. His breath hitched. She was still warm. Still breathing.

He shut his eyes. 

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Weak. But still there. 

Foggy blinked at him, her face pale and glistening with sweat. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t talk.” He rasped. “It’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you. Just breathe, baby.”

Foggy’s hand raised up to his face, grasping his jaw desperately, like she was trying to tell him something. 

“It’s okay.” Matt choked out. “I’m right here.”

He felt her look at him for a long moment, her mouth opening and closing. Then, her eyes fluttered close, and her hand fell limply to her side.

No no please no!

Matt let out a strangled breath—half sob, half scream.

Don’t lose it. Help Foggy. Breathe. 

His thoughts were incoherent. He tried to focus. 

Still beating. Still breathing. Still warm. Still alive. 

He chanted it like a prayer. If he didn’t he thought he’d go insane. 

Sirens wailed in the distance. They felt too far away. 

Matt kept pressure on her wound. “You’re okay, baby.” He choked out. 

Still beating. Still breathing. Still warm. Still alive. 

“You’re okay.”

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Paramedics were soon surrounding them, their voices and heart beats bleeding into one another. Matt could feel their hesitation, their fear, not knowing how to approach the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

“Sir, we need to move her.” He heard one say, their voice wavering. 

“We need to stop the bleeding.”

He didn’t move. How could he hand her and their baby off to someone else? How could anyone take care of them better than him? How could anyone else know how precious they were?

But then he heard Karen’s voice, a whisper only he could hear.

“Matt, let them help. Please.”

He hesitated, then nodded once, letting them take over. They swarmed her- bandages and oxygen and fluids. 

“She’s pregnant.” He heard Karen say, her voice trembling. 

“How far along?” One of the paramedics asked. 

“I’m not sure. She just found out today.”

Matt’s heart clenched. He tried to reach, to listen, to find the second heartbeat.

 Nothing. 

Just Foggy. No second heartbeat.

God, why couldn’t he hear anything?

“Matt.” Karen whispered urgently. “You have to go.”

Matt shook his head. I can’t, he thought. How can I leave my family? 

“Matt. You’re not her husband right now. You’re Daredevil. Stay, and everyone will know. Go. Meet us at the hospital.”

Matt sat, paralyzed, Foggy’s heartbeat anchoring him to the floor. For a moment he didn’t care if the entire world knew his secret identity. All he wanted was to stay.

What if something happened while he was gone?  

But he knew that Karen was right. It killed him, but he knew if he stayed he would be exposed. They’d be in even more danger. 

He stood. His body felt like it was made of lead. His every sense focused was on Foggy, his heart shattering in his chest. 

Still beating. Still breathing. Still warm. Still alive.

Please God. Please don’t let this be the last time I see her. I haven’t loved her long enough.

A breath caught in his chest as he blinked back tears. He turned toward the exit. His fingers brushed the edge of the doorframe. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to stay. 

With a shaky breath and one last listen to her heartbeat, he tore himself away, vanishing into the shadows.  

I’m not leaving, baby, he thought. I’ll always come back. For both of you. I promise.

***

The hum of the fluorescent lights were merciless. The sound dug its way into Matt’s skull, like it was splitting his brain. 

Claire had done what she could in the alley behind Josie’s. Pulled glass out of his back. Stitched up the knife and pool stick wounds in his shoulder and arm. Taped his ribs. Scrubbed blood from his face until he almost looked human again. She tried to convince him to go to the ER himself, but he refused. All he wanted was Foggy.

Now he sat slumped in a vinyl chair, back in his own clothes, hands clasped so tightly the bones ached. His body was screaming but he couldn’t move. He could still smell Foggy’s blood on his skin, no matter how hard he’d washed his hands. It made him sick. 

Every sound clawed at him. The machines beeping. The distant cry of a child. The slow, steady thrum of a vending machine. The drug addict screaming in the ER.

He was fighting against so much noise. He kept stretching his senses out like a man drowning, searching for her.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Foggy’s heartbeat was somewhere behind the closed doors of the operating room a few floors above him. Thin, fluttering, faint. Weaker than he remembered. He tried to hold onto it, tried to count it like prayer beads. One beat, then the next. If he lost it, if the sound slipped-

His chest seized. No. He couldn’t think of that.

He pushed himself even harder to listen, desperate to hear a second heartbeat beneath Foggy’s. 

Nothing.

Why am I not hearing the baby?

His mind spiraled. He tried again. Harder. Harder than he’d ever tried at anything. He should be hearing it, shouldn’t he?

He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think straight.

“Matt.”

Karen’s voice pulled him back. She sat across from him, arm in a sling, face pale beneath hospital lighting. He hadn’t realized how hard she was watching him until she spoke again.

“Can you hear her? Is she okay?” 

Matt swallowed thickly and nodded. “I can hear her.”

“Matt?”

“I can’t hear the baby, Karen.” He choked out, his voice wobbling. “Why can’t I hear the baby?”

“Hey.” She reached for his hand. “Stop. It may be too early. She just found out.”

Matt didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He was a lawyer. A vigilante. But not a doctor, not even truly a father. He didn’t know how early heartbeats started. God he just wanted something, anything, to let him know they were okay.

“They’ll be okay, Matt. Foggy’s the toughest person I’ve ever met.” Karen squeezed hand, her own voice thick with tears.  “If the baby is anything like her, then they’re just fine.”

Matt tried to smile back but it died on his lips. His voice was raw. “She shouldn’t have to be tough. She should be able to go out with her friend like a normal person.”

“Matt.” Karen’s voice is sharp. “She’s a lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen, for God’s sake. Sometimes these things happen to Foggy because of who she is. Not because of Daredevil.”

Daddy’s too slow.

He could hear Poindexter’s voice, mocking him. Matt’s hands clenched so tightly his nails broke skin. 

“Not this time. Karen, he looked at me and knew that the baby was mine. He said, ‘Daddy’s too slow’.”

Karen’s breath caught. 

“I don’t know if this was all him or someone else. Fisk? I don’t know.” His voice cracked, low and harsh. “But whoever it is, they know, Karen. They know who I am. Who she is. Now they know she’s pregnant. They know everything.”

Matt felt violated. Exposed. His secret, his family…it felt like everyone knew, like everyone was plotting to hurt them.

Karen rubbed her good hand on his back. “We’ll figure this out Matt. We always do. You saved her. That’s what matters.”

“Did I?” Matt’s eyes filled. “He was right. I was too slow. The only reason Foggy’s still alive is because he stopped. Maybe he wanted me to know he could take everything from me whenever he wants.”

Karen tried to protest, but he barreled on, voice shaking.

“I’ve spent years convincing myself I could live two lives, that I could be Daredevil and Matt Murdock. That I could keep Foggy safe enough to where I could be both. And now she’s lying in there—.” He broke off, his head falling into his hands. 

Stop. He growled at himself. Stop being so weak. Get it together. 

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. He listened to the faint rhythm of Foggy’s heartbeat, the only thing keeping him even semi-sane. 

Still beating. Still breathing. Still alive.

But thoughts still clawed their way into his brain. 

Fisk knew. Did he tell Poindexter? Or someone else, someone Matt hadn’t even heard of? Who else knew? Foggy wasn’t safe. Their baby wasn’t safe. No one—no one—was safe. 

He had to fix it. He had to.

***

Hours felt like days. Matt didn’t move from his chair. His body was stiff and sore, his limbs and wounds aching from his own fight with Poindexter. 

But he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t. 

Karen, despite her own injury, was his rock. She asked the nurses for updates. Brought him snacks and water he didn’t touch. Called Foggy’s parents for him to keep them updated on her condition. 

Matt felt terrible for them. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson hadn’t been on a vacation in over ten years. The one week they went to Cancun—a gift given to them by Matt and Foggy this past Christmas— their daughter was shot.

Her stepmom had been hysterical, insisting on flying home immediately. Karen had convinced her to wait until Foggy was out of surgery. Matt knew they were probably already looking at flights anyway.

God, how was he going to face them? 

They had always treated him like family ever since he and Foggy had become friends in undergrad. Her stepmom was thrilled when they got married. Her dad had joked that Foggy was always getting into trouble, so Matt had his work cut out for him.

Little did they know a lot of Foggy’s trouble was because of Daredevil. 

He wondered if they regretted them marrying now. If they thought that their daughter was hurt because her blind husband couldn’t keep her safe.

He knew it probably wasn’t true. They were too kind for that.

He just couldn’t stop thinking he’d failed everyone. 

Claire stopped by briefly. She patted his back, checked his stitches, asked if he was hurting.

“It doesn’t matter,” he’d said flatly.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but Foggy.

“Matthew.”

A hand rested on his shoulder.

He stiffened, then turned his head slightly.
“Sister.”

His mother eased into the seat beside him, leaving her hand on his shoulder.

“How did you—?”

“Your friend called me. She thought you needed someone to talk to.” Sister Maggie’s voice was gentle, steady. Her heartbeat was calm, so unlike his own frantic rhythm.

Matt didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to sit there and count Foggy’s heartbeat. Listen for the baby’s. 

“I’ve asked everyone to pray for you and your wife,” she said softly.

“Thanks.” The word barely scraped out of him.

He could feel her eyes on him, heavy and searching.

“Am I being punished?” 

Sister Maggie startled. “For what?”

“For trying to be both.” His voice cracked, hands clenched in his lap. 

She was silent for a long moment. Then she reached across and took his hand, squeezing it firmly. “That’s not how God works.”

“Well, how does He work?” His voice was sharp, bitter. “Because I don’t understand it.”

“It’s not your job to understand it,” she said. “What that man did today was not God’s will. It was his own free will. You know that.”

“But—.”

“Matthew.” She cut him off gently, but with authority. “If you want to talk about God’s grace, look at what’s right in front of you. It was grace that you were there. Grace that she’s still alive. Grace that you didn’t lose everything tonight. God did not abandon you. You are not being punished.”

Matt wanted to argue, to spit back that he did feel abandoned, punished, that Foggy was paying for his sins. But the words stuck in his throat.

Alive.

She was right. Foggy was alive. That was something. Maybe not enough. But something.

He just hoped that the life inside of her, the life he’d protect with everything he had if given the chance, was alive too. 

His shoulders, heavy and taut, sagged slightly, the tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding melting into the steady warmth of her hand.

Silence stretched between them.

“Have you prayed?” Maggie asked quietly.

“I…” His throat closed. Tears burned behind his eyes. “I don’t think I can.”

Maggie sat for a long moment. “Then you just sit here. I’ll pray for both of us.”

And she did. Matt let his hands relax in hers, his chest rising and falling in time with the soft rhythm of her prayer. For the first time since the shooting, he felt like he could breathe.

***

“Family for Murdock?” 

Matt jumped up so fast his chair skidded across the floor. “I’m Matt Murdock.”

A woman in green scrubs approached. She smelled like antiseptic and Foggy’s blood. Matt’s stomach twisted violently at the scent, and he swallowed down bile.

“Mr. Murdock, I’m Dr. Haydon. Just wanted to give you an update. Your  wife is fine and in recovery. She did very well. She lost a lot of blood but we were able to repair the internal damage from the bullet wound.”

Matt exhaled shakily. His knees threatened to buckle. He felt Karen’s hand on his back, steadying him

“She’s okay?” His voice came out broken. 

“Yes, she’s in recovery now. You should be able to see her soon.”

Foggy was alive.

Relief slammed into him like a tidal wave. He pressed his forehead to his hands, letting the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding finally escape. For the first time since the attack, a fraction of weight lifted from his chest.

Thank you God. Thank you. 

Dr. Haydon continued on carefully. “She did sustain other injuries. She has quite a few stitches in her arms, back, and legs. She has a lot of facial swelling and a small facial fracture that should heal with time, but we’ll refer her to plastics just in case.” The doctor smiled warmly. “All things considered, Phoebe did very well. Another half an inch and that bullet would have been in her liver.” 

Matt’s stomach lurched.

Half an inch. His life was almost over by half an inch. 

Too close. Too damn close. 

“And the baby?” Matt asked, his voice catching. “Did you…did you find a heartbeat?”

Dr. Haydon’s voice softened. “Based on what we can tell, she’s early. Six weeks. Maybe seven. A little too early to hear a heartbeat. We did an ultrasound after her surgery. We were able to visualize the embryo and detect cardiac activity. She’ll follow up with her OB, of course, but based on that we have no reason to think something is wrong.”

Matt felt like he might collapse. Tears pricked at his eyes. The baby was okay. There was a heartbeat, just too early for him to hear. 

“Thank you.” His voice shook as he swallowed back tears. 

Dr. Haydon placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Murdock.”

Lucky. The word was bittersweet on his tongue. 

“Yeah. I’m so lucky.” He murmured. He’d told Foggy that less than 24 hours ago. 

They were lucky. But only because Poindexter made it so. 

Matt clenched his fists. This was the last time his family’s fate would be in someone else’s hands. He swore to God they’d stay lucky. 

He’d make sure of it.

***

After what felt like an eternity, they finally let Matt back to see her.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. It hit him before he was even in the room. She smelled of antiseptic soap, sweat, liquor, the sharp tang of blood. But beneath it all, she still smelled like herself. Still Foggy.

The nurse led him by the arm to her bedside and placed his hand in hers. She tried to explain Foggy’s condition as best she could, assuming Matt was just a normal blind man. He nodded, barely listening. Every word was secondary to what he could feel: her pulse, the rise and fall of her chest, the faint warmth of her skin beneath his fingers. Her body told him more than any words ever could.

He concentrated on her fingers, running his thumb along her knuckles. Her fingers seemed so much smaller in his hands than before.

“Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. “Thank you for keeping her alive. For keeping our baby alive.”

The rhythmic beeping of the machines filled the room, steady and unyielding. He tried to tune it out, but it was impossible. The more he tried to focus on Foggy, the more insistent the beeps became. The sound felt like a countdown to something, like a clock racing against him.

When the nurse finally left and Matt was alone, the weight of it all crashed in. He let out a shuddering breath and pressed his face into Foggy’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Foggy.” His voice wobbled, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

Her fingers twitched in his hand. She wasn’t awake, but it felt like she knew he was there. He sucked in a breath. For the second, the beeping quieted enough to where he could concentrate on her heartbeat, the rush of her blood beneath her wrist. 

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I swear,” he promised, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I love you.”

He let one rest lightly over her stomach, careful of the bandages. “Hi baby.” He whispered brokenly. “You were so strong. Just like your mom. I won’t let anything happen to you again, okay? I promise.”

Matt lifted her hand to mouth and placed a kiss to each knuckle, lingering longest on her ring finger. 

He prayed aloud—to God, Mother Mary, to Saint Michael, to Saint Joseph, to every saint he could think of. Between each prayer, he pressed kisses to her hands, like promises.

Even his voice felt too hoarse to speak, he prayed fervently, desperately. Anything to quiet the beeping, to make him feel like he was doing  something for her. 

Please God, return her to me. I need her. I’ll do anything. 

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.

Saint Michael, guard her.

Saint Joseph, guide me.

I’ll never let anything happen to them again. I swear. Please give me a chance to prove it. Please, Lord. 

The quiet hours passed, and he realized he had stopped counting the beeps, stopped thinking, stopped existing outside this room. All that mattered was the three of them. 

His prayers were now just a stream of nonsensical begging. Of bargaining. Of promising his life, his very soul, in exchange for theirs if that was what it took.  

He was again pleading to Mother Mary for intercession when he heard it.

Foggy’s breathing changed just enough. He snapped his head towards her, holding his breath. 

Her eyes fluttered open. She sat for a second, bleary-eyed, searching for him. The beeping stilled for a moment. Time slowed, like the whole room exhaled with her.

“Hi…” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

That one word put air back into Matt’s lungs. It felt like an answered prayer. Like absolution.

Thank you, God.

“Hi,” he breathed, leaning closer, his hands hovering over her. He had to resist the urge to hold her all at once, to make sure she was real, still here. “I… I missed you.”

“I…missed you…too,” she murmured. Her hand drifted to her stomach, eyes wide. “The…baby?”

Matt covered her hand with his, firm and steady. “The baby’s fine. They did an ultrasound. Everything looks good.”

Foggy sank into the pillows, exhaling shakily. “Thank God.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” She looked up at him, concern etching her features. “Are you okay?”

Matt shook his head, voice rough but half-grinning. “You got shot, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Well… from where I’m sitting, you look like hell,” she said, laughing weakly. 

Matt gave her a weak, lopsided smile. “You should see the other guy.”

Her pulse skipped a beat. “Is he—?”

“Arrested.”

“Good.” Foggy leaned back against her pillows, letting out a breathy laugh. “That guy is a jerk…hit me with a cue ball, ruined my big baby reveal. I had plans, Matt. You were supposed to cry.”

Matt chuckled hoarsely. “Oh, I definitely cried.” 

Foggy tilted her head, cupping his cheek. Her thumb brushed away one of his tears that managed to get free. 

Her face crumbled slightly. “Matt, I’m so sorry you found out like that… it wasn’t fair.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss against her palm. “It’s okay. I’m just… so happy you’re both okay.”

“So… you’re happy?” she asked tentatively. “About the baby?”

Matt swallowed hard. So much had happened in the last few hours. Fear, despair, guilt. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel happiness. But now, seeing her alive, seeing them both safe…

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “I’m happy. So happy.”

Foggy smiled at him, her expression soft. “Good. Me too.”

Chapter Text

The next few days were a haze. Doctors came and went—Dr. Haydon, pleased with Foggy’s progress; a plastic surgeon, reassuring them that her facial fracture would heal on its own; and an obstetrician, who performed another ultrasound and prescribed prenatal vitamins. The police came by to take her statement, with Foggy answering with the efficiency of the seasoned lawyer she was.

Her parents cut their trip short, which upset her more than a little. Her stepmother fussed over her, adjusting pillows and insisting she come stay at their apartment for a week to help with her recovery.

“Honestly, Anne,” Foggy joked, “this was a breeze compared to wisdom teeth removal.”

Her father, a large, burly butcher, didn’t say much, but the relief on his face spoke volumes.

Karen was there every day, still in her sling, sitting on Foggy’s bed and making her laugh. Sister Maggie came again, quiet. Polite.  When Foggy saw her, she beamed. 

“Thank goodness you’re here! Think you can help me get Matt to actually eat instead of just watching me?”

 Sister Maggie offered Foggy a small smile of approval. “He’ll listen to you more than he’ll listen to me,” she said softly.

Matt, meanwhile, never left her side. He hovered close, always checking that she was warm, that she wasn’t in pain, that she was eating enough. He made sure she had everything she needed before anyone else thought of it. Even when Foggy joked about tiny annoyances, like the way hospital gowns were scratchy or how her oatmeal looked like spackle, he silently noted every detail, memorizing what made her comfortable.

He wasn’t sleeping. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, even for a bit, something would happen again. Every knock at the door made him tense, every squeak of shoes in the hallway set his teeth on edge. He even positioned his chair by the window so he could hear everything outside. 

“Matt.” Foggy said one night. “Have you even slept?”

Matt shrugged in his chair. “Yeah. A little.”

Foggy didn’t look convinced. “Resting your eyes for five minutes isn’t sleeping.” She scooted over and pulled her sheets back. “Get in.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you—”

“What’s hurting me is having my husband leer over me all night like a gargoyle.” Her voice softened. “Come on. Just for a bit.”

Matt complied, climbing into bed with her. She yawned, lazily tracing his nose. He reached for her hand, feeling her pulse beneath her wrist.

“Thank you,” she said sleepily.

“For what?”

She scooted even closer, tucking her head under his chin. He felt her hair tickle his jaw, and he could smell the hospital shampoo in her hair.

“For always taking care of me.”

Matt’s chest tightened, and he felt a pang of guilt. She said it so simply, so lovingly. She didn’t see the way he failed, that if he’d been fast enough, strong enough, she wouldn’t even be here. She was thanking him just for being with her, and he wondered how that was enough. 

Because it wasn’t. Not to him.

In his eyes she’d always been the one giving, the one holding it all together, and he was just trailing behind, trying to catch up.

He almost told her all of this, but she was already nearly asleep, her breathing slow against his collarbone.

So instead, he threw his arm over her and whispered the only promise he could make.

“Always.”

Lying there with Foggy in his arms was the only time he managed to shut his eyes for more than a few minutes, and even then his senses still hummed beneath the surface, scanning the quiet hospital room for anything out of place.

By day five, Foggy was practically clawing at the walls.

“Karen, get me out of here,” she whispered to her friend when she brought her morning coffee. “They’re all suffocating me.”

“I heard that,” Matt quipped from his chair.

“See?” Foggy gestured to him. “He’s the worst! I’m gonna start calling him Warden! He won’t even let me pee alone!”

“I don’t want you to fall,” he said, trying to sound light, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Your wife wants me to stage a jailbreak,” Karen giggled. 

“I do! I will not be contained!” Foggy said dramatically, flopping onto her bed.

“I’m not ‘containing’ you,” Matt chuckled tiredly. “I’m making sure you’re okay.”

“Whatever you say, Warden,” she grumbled.

Matt could tell Foggy was seriously considering a dramatic escape when Dr. Haydon entered the room. “Good news! Everything looks good, so we’re thinking we can discharge you.”

“Hallelujah! Dr. Haydon, I could kiss you!” Foggy said excitedly.

Matt felt his shoulders tense. “We’re sure she’s okay to go home?”

Foggy waved him off. “Don’t listen to him. He hasn’t slept in days. He’s delusional.”

That part was still true. Matt hadn’t slept besides the small stint where he’d lain in Foggy’s bed.

Dr. Haydon chuckled warmly. “You’ve recovered beautifully, Phoebe. I see no reason why you should stay. We’ll schedule some follow-ups, but everything looks great.”

Foggy looked at Matt, almost smug. Matt tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt a flicker of panic. The city felt louder now, sharper, more dangerous. His chest tightened and he found himself gripping the edge of the chair.

He could protect them in this tiny room. But out there? He realized with sinking dread that he couldn’t be everywhere at once. The thought terrified him.

“Also,” the doctor continued, “I’m giving you both recommendations to help manage PTSD. Therapy, support groups…” As she spoke she  handed Foggy a folder and Matt shut his eyes, listening to the sounds outside the window. 

When she’d left Foggy thumbed through  the folder. “Might not be a bad idea for us to go.”

Matt smirked, shaking his head. “Therapy? I don’t think Catholics do that.”

“Matt, I’m serious. I got shot.” Her voice softened, “and you watched.  Then you found out you were going to be a dad in the absolute worst way possible.”

He felt his stomach coil at the memory, but he shoved it down. “Sweetie, I’ve been through some crazy stuff and came out fine. I’ve literally been crushed by a building—”

“Yeah? And you handled that so well, Mr. Pretends-He’s-Dead-for-Months.”

“Okay, I was going through a lot—”

“Exactly.” She waved her hand like a magic wand. “Therapy!”

 “Fine.” He challenged, smirking. “You find me one catered to my line of work and I’ll go.”

“I 100% guarantee they’ve got something.” Her voice grew earnest. “Will you at least think about it?”

He ran a hand over his face, sighing. “If you really want me to go… I’ll think about it.”

She reached for his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Once they got the green light for discharge Foggy was practically throwing their things in their bags while Matt was borderline dragging his feet. 

Karen, who'd come to help with Foggy's “jailbreak”, noticed him hesitating. When she’d asked him, he said he was fine. Just tired. 

A few hours later, they were back at their apartment. Foggy kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, wincing at the ache in her side. “Finally. I swear, if I had to eat another hospital tray I was actually going to climb out the window.”

Matt hovered near the doorway. “I unpacked your bag, made sure the locks are—”

“Relax, Warden,” Foggy interrupted, waving a hand toward him. “We’re home. We’re okay. You’re off duty.”

Matt let out a small, hollow chuckle. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I am safe, baby,” she said gently. “You can’t stop being Warden. You can be Chef. Or Butler. Or Eye Candy. Take your pick.”

Karen was lounging on the other couch, laptop in her lap. “Oh my God. I think being in there so long actually made you goofier. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t tempt me with a challenge,” Foggy yawned, grabbing the remote. “I can always be goofier.”

“She’s right. Don’t tempt her.” Matt muttered, scanning the apartment, alert.

“You guys wanna order some pizza or something? I’m ravenous,” Karen said.

Matt didn’t say anything. He moved to the kitchen to get Foggy some water. 

It should have felt good to be home. It didn't. Matt felt exposed. Naked. Like they were being watched. Each sound in the apartment was magnified; the hum of the refrigerator, the distant thrum of the city outside, even the soft creak of the floorboards. Everything set his teeth on edge.  

The thought of someone knowing his secret and using it to hurt his family clawed at his brain. They could still be out there. Planning their next move.

“Matt?” Foggy called from the couch. “You cool with pizza?”

He could feel her eyes lingering on him. Studying him. Matt swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He needed answers.

And he knew exactly where to get them.

Later, when Foggy was in the shower, Matt picked up the phone. He kept his voice low in case she caught any of what he was saying.

“Riker’s Island Penitentiary. How can we help you today?”

“Hello, this is Matt Murdock. I’d like to set up a meeting with Wilson Fisk.”

Chapter Text

It had taken over a week for the meeting to be approved, and a few days after that to get it scheduled. Matt felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin as he waited.

It didn’t help that he had barely gone out as Daredevil. He never admitted it aloud, but it was a stress reliever. He knew that baser, lesser parts of himself just needed to hit things. That he enjoyed it.

Now he was too afraid to leave Foggy alone. Every time he had suited up he’d stayed within earshot of their apartment. If he thought she even stirred differently in her sleep, he’d come running back. It didn’t help that he thought his suit still smelled like her blood, no matter how many times he’d washed it. It hung over him like some sick reminder of what happened if he was too far away.

Foggy noticed and tried to relax him. Joke with him. Even encouraged him to go out and get his “vigilante fix” if it meant he’d smile again. But at night whenever he’d crawl back into bed with her, she’d clutch at him, her heart hammering in her chest like a hummingbird.

She was scared too, and all he wanted to do was make it stop for her.

He had to figure out who put this hit on her.

And now, sitting in the sterile high-security visiting room, his cane tapping against the linoleum, the weight of that fear sat heavy on his shoulders. The hum of fluorescent lights pressed on his ears, mingling with the faint buzz of electricity in the walls and the distant clang of steel doors. The air smelled of bleach, and he could hear the steady hum of prisoners’ voices in their cells. None of it mattered. His senses locked on the man sitting at the other side of the table.

Wilson Fisk.

He sat with the kind of stillness that filled the space, his massive frame folding neatly into the chair, hands folded like a man at peace. The guards left, and soon it was just them.

Matt lowered himself into the chair opposite him, jaw already tight. “Fisk.”

“Matthew.” Fisk’s voice was smooth, almost soothing. “I assume you’ve come regarding… recent events.”

“Recent events.” Matt repeated slowly, each word bitten off. “You mean the attempted murder of my wife.”

“Yes.” Fisk replied lightly. “I was pleased to hear she survived. You’re a lucky man.”
Lucky. The word landed like an insult. Matt’s teeth ground together until his temples throbbed.

Fisk’s heartbeat never wavered. “I assume you’re here to ask if I had anything to do with it?”

“You tell me.” Matt leaned forward, fingers tightening around his cane. “You know things about me no one else does. Poindexter was your lapdog. So if I had to make a guess…”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Fisk’s mouth. “Honorable detective work. But, need I remind you of our arrangement?”

Matt’s voice sharpened. “Do I need to remind you? I’ve kept up my end.”

“You have,” Fisk said evenly. He cracked his knuckles slowly, the sound echoing in the sterile room. Matt felt his pulse spike.

“As I have kept up mine.” Fisk leaned forward. “I had nothing to do with the attack on your wife.”

Matt listened. Heartbeat steady. Even. Controlled.

He wasn’t lying.

But Matt wasn’t ready to let him off the hook.

“You don’t seem shocked that his back is fine,” Matt said, his voice low. “Considering you’re the one who broke it.”

The memory of Poindexter’s spine snapping echoed in Matt’s mind, the sickening crack when Fisk threw him into the wall.

“Modern medicine is truly a miracle.”

“It is.” Matt smiled tightly. “I guess I’m just surprised he didn’t come after you after his ‘miraculous’ recovery. That seems very… convenient.”

“Well, maybe his issues with you were more pressing.”

“More pressing than going after the man who killed Julie Barnes?” Matt’s voice sharpened, a hiss of fury slipping through.

Julie Barnes, the waitress that Poindexter had been obsessed with. When Fisk had felt his control over him slipping, he’d order her execution. Poindexter had gone insane. The last time Matt had seen him, he was at Fisk and Vanessa’s wedding, trying to murder the both of them.

“Why go after my wife? Why not the man who killed the girl he loved and broke his back?”

“I suppose because I’m here. Not the easiest target.”

“Or Vanessa.” Matt snapped. “Why not her?”

Fisk’s fists tightened, and his heartbeat stuttered for just a second. “I don’t pretend to understand Benjamin Poindexter’s mindset.”

“Or maybe he’s not after Vanessa because he’s back in your debt.” Matt leaned forward, jaw tight. “What’d you do? Pay to get his back fixed?”

“Better to have an unstable man as a friend than an enemy,” Fisk said, his voice soft, almost contemplative. “After all, you and I both know—sometimes, the line between the two is thinner than we’d like to admit.”

Matt ignored the dig, his voice low. “You have the means and the motive to get him back in your pocket. So how am I supposed to believe you had nothing to do with this?”

Fisk leaned forward again. “Because I didn’t. And you know that.”

Matt did know. Fisk was too evasive about Poindexter’s back to get a clear read, but he was being honest about the attack.
Matt tried one more time.

“Did you tell him about me?”

Fisk’s voice was low with an air of finality. “No.”

He wasn’t lying.

Fisk was able to read Matt’s expression enough to look satisfied, almost smug.

“Isn’t it amazing,” Fisk said, voice quieter now, “what we’ll do for our wives? This bargain we keep for them. We’re not so different, you and I.”

Matt’s lips curled. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I think the main difference is that I know exactly how far I would go for Vanessa.” Fisk’s tone sharpened. He leaned closer, dropping the smooth façade. “So understand this, Matthew—every action has consequences. Your secret is kept. Your wife and your friend remain untouched by me. All because you have honored your part. That will continue, as long as you do. If you don’t…” His heartbeat spiked, just for a fraction of a second. “…this attack on your wife will look like child’s play compared to what I can do.”

Matt wanted to lunge across the table, to bash Fisk’s face in, but he held steady. Fingers curled tightly around the cane, knuckles whitening. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his jaw he fought to suppress.

“I understand,” Matt said evenly, leaning forward, voice low, dangerous. “In return, if you ever break your word, I will go after Vanessa. I will make sure she rots in prison for the rest of her life.”

That did it. Fisk’s heartbeat stumbled before he forced it to level again. His smile thinned, jaw locking, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“I’m pleased to see we still understand one another,” Fisk replied.

“Agreed.” Matt’s voice was ice.

They were two men, each holding a chain around the other’s neck.

Fisk leaned back, folding his hands as if the matter were closed. “That’s all for now. A courtesy. To clear the air.”

Matt rose to leave.

“And Matthew? Congratulations.”

Matt froze.

“Fatherhood changes a man.” Fisk’s tone was almost warm, which made it worse. “I wonder how it will change you.”

Matt’s chest seized. The cane in his hand creaked under the force of his grip until the wood threatened to splinter. Blood roared in his ears.

Fisk knew.

He forced his legs to move, shoving his way out before Fisk could sense the panic rattling in his chest.

Out in the corridor, Matt braced a hand against the cold concrete wall, dragging in a breath. He replayed the conversation, every detail, every inflection. Fisk hadn’t lied. He had nothing to do with the attack.
Which meant Poindexter had learned his secret from someone else. Someone Matt hadn’t uncovered yet.

Fatherhood.

The word felt like an exposed nerve—raw, aching, alive. It had already changed him. He’d faced bullets, blades, buildings collapsing around him. But this? This was different.

Matt could lose everything that mattered. In one second. He nearly had.

Stick’s voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and cold. You can’t need anyone, Matty. Can’t rely on anyone. That’s how they break you.

No. Stop it! He wanted to scream. Stick didn’t know anything. He didn’t know that loving Foggy and their baby was like breathing. He couldn’t go without it now. He’d rather die than do without.

Matt drew in a ragged breath. He chose them. He wanted them.

He was a husband. A father. He would protect them.

Because what was he—what good was he—if he couldn’t?

Matt’s fists curled.

Every choice from here on would matter. Every second could be the difference between life and death.

Someone was out there. Watching. Waiting. Ready to take everything from him.

Not if he had anything to say about it.

He knew exactly where he had to go for answers next: Poindexter.

Chapter Text

Foggy sighed, her body relaxing against Matt. They were in the tub, her back to his chest, his cheek rested against her hair, his arms draped loosely around her middle. Steam swirled around them. 

“See?” She hummed. “This was a good idea.”

“Hm.” Matt mumbled. 

“Matt, baby.” Foggy teased, nudging him gently. “You’re killing the mood.”

“Hm?” 

“You’re like a million miles away.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He kissed her cheek apologetically, his stubble grazing her cheek. She felt his body try to relax against her back, but his shoulders still seemed tight. 

She nuzzled her cheek into him gently. “So good idea, right?”

“Yeah. Good idea.” He sighed, his mouth brushing her shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

“If I sit right here and don’t move, then I almost feel like I don’t have to puke.” She joked. “So we may have to stay here forever.”

Matt smiled against her ear. “Fine by me.”

He lifted her hand from the warm water and ran his thumb over her wedding ring, lost in thought. Far away. A nervous habit he’d picked up after he’d proposed.

“Matthew.”

“Hm?”

“Your brain. I can hear it spinning. Shut it off.” She joked, closing her eyes. 

“Trying.” He sighed, not sounding like he was succeeding. 

She turned to look up at him. She reached up and ran her hand along his jaw. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Matt kept toying with her wedding ring. He didn’t speak right away, and Foggy could feel the weight of whatever was troubling him.

“I went to see Fisk.”

Foggy’s eyebrows shot up. She pulled back slightly, looking at him with surprise. “You did?”

Matt nodded, his expression unreadable.

“What? When?”

“Like a week ago.”

Foggy’s mouth opened, then closed again. She felt the air between them shift. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he didn’t do it.” Matt said simply. “I asked. He told me the truth.”

“Which was?”

“He didn’t order the hit. Didn’t hire Poindexter.  As far as he’s concerned, he’ll stay away from my wife if I stay away from his.” 

“Did Fisk tell him about you?” 

“No.” Matt sounded bitter, his voice thick with unspoken frustration. “Waste of time.”

Foggy’s mind reeled. She had wondered about Fisk’s involvement, but knowing it wasn’t him didn’t make her feel any better.

But Matt’s secret meeting? That made her even more uneasy. Like he was crawling back towards the way he used to be. Isolated. Secretive. Alone. A place she couldn't reach him. He hadn’t been that way since Midland Circle, and she swore she’d hold onto him for dear life before that happened again. 

She clenched her jaw. Stupid Poindexter. Messing up her baby reveal, her face, and now messing with her husband’s head. She was going to destroy him when they called her to the witness stand. 

 “Well,” she muttered, irritated, “it’s never straightforward when it comes to us, is it?”

 Matt pressed his lips to her shoulder and sighed, voice heavy. “You’re mad at me.”

Foggy pulled her hand from his, setting it back in the water.  “You should’ve told me. You don’t get to just go off on some side quest like that and not say anything. That’s not fair.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” His voice was low, apologetic, reaching back into the water for her hand. He squeezed it. “I didn’t want to worry you if it was nothing.”

“Look Matt, I didn’t like the lone wolf thing when we were friends, and I really don’t like it now as your wife.  We're a team, remember? You, me,” she took his hands and placed them on her stomach, “and now Peanut.”

Matt didn’t answer. His chin rested on her shoulder again, but she could feel the weight in his silence.

“You don’t have to do things alone, okay? Not anymore. You’re allowed to need me, too,” she reminded him softly.

“I do need you.” His voice was low, almost afraid. It made her heart clench because she knew what he’d really meant.

I do need you, and that’s the problem. 

She’d never said it, but when she had nightmares about that night it wasn’t the gun, or Poindexter, or pain. It was Matt’s terrified begging. Of her trying to talk to him and not being able to. 

She turned toward him, her lips brushing his cheek comfortingly. “We’re okay,” she murmured into his skin. “I’m okay. Baby’s okay. Just be here with us.”

Matt’s eyes closed, and he exhaled. His arms tightened around her like he was holding onto her words for dear life. 

Foggy tried to relax. She told herself it was just one mistake. He was scared. He hadn’t even lied—he told her. A week later, sure, but he had told her. Old Matt wouldn’t have. Old Matt, the martyr who never wanted to need anyone, would’ve buried it until it consumed him.

This Matt was her husband. He told her the truth, even if it was late. He was always trying.

She trusted him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, as if he was reading her mind. His lips brushed her shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that felt like both apologies and promises. 

“Well, don’t make a habit out of this,” she chuckled.

He didn’t answer. He just kept kissing her, his other hand drifting up to graze the fading bruise on her cheek. 

They laid there for a while. Foggy let herself drift, her body heavy against his, content just to be with him. But Matt still seemed weighted down, his thoughts pressing down on him.

If she let him, he’d disappear back into his head again. No way. Not tonight. 

“Okay,” she said at last, her voice light but purposeful. “So what do you think? Boy or girl? Got a preference?”

Matt’s hands were still resting on her stomach, and she could feel his pulse against hers. He shrugged, like he was trying to listen but hadn’t really registered the question. 

She nudged him gently, turning her head to face him. “Come on. What would we even name this kid?”

Matt exhaled a long, slow breath, and for a moment, she thought he might pull away. Instead, his gaze softened, just a little, and he shifted slightly, his focus finally landing on her.

“I don’t know.” His voice was rougher than usual, but there was something almost amused in it. “I’ve never really thought about names.”

Foggy arched an eyebrow. “Not even for a boy or girl?”

He shifted again, his body still tense but no longer as withdrawn. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Me?” Foggy’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’ve got a list.”

“A list, huh?”

“Yeah.” She settled back against him. “A very long, well-thought-out list.” 

Matt chucked. “Alright. Let’s hear some.”

“Well…” she ran a finger up his arm. “For a boy I thought about naming him after Grandpa.”

Matt snorted. “Franklin?”

She frowned, offended. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Franklin Murdock sounds like a stock broker.”

“So?” She scoffed. “We could call him ‘Frank’.”

“Phoebe Patricia Murdock, I will die before I call my kid Frank.” He laughed. “I’d rather name them Peanut.”

“Peanut Murdock is awful.” She giggled. “It sounds like a cartoon.”

“Better than Frank.” 

“Okay, fine. What about Nelson? My maiden name,” she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she looked up at him.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Nelson Murdock? Should we make the middle name ‘&’?”

She rolled her eyes. “I should have known you’d be picky.”

“I’m not picky, I’m discerning,” Matt replied, his lips curling into a half-smile.

“Is that what we’re calling ‘anal’ now?” 

“I’m not ‘anal’.” He laughed. “I’m particular.” 

“That’s exactly what an anal person would say.”

“Call me ‘anal’ again and I’ll dunk you.” He dipped them lower into the water playfully. 

“No!” She squealed. “That’s grounds for divorce!”

Matt sat them back up. He kissed her cheek. “Well, I can’t have that.”

 “No you can’t.” She settled back against him. He finally seemed to relax a bit. He let his head loll against hers, and she could tell by his breathing that his eyes were closed. “I like Jack. After your dad,” she said softly. 

She felt him stiffen, the faintest catch in his breath. 

“Oh come on!” She groaned. “How can you not like that one?”

“Foggy.” Something about the way he said her name made her freeze. 

“What?”

He shushed her gently, his hands pressing at her stomach. After a few long moments she felt him smile against her cheek.  When he spoke his voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear it. “I can hear them.”

Her heart leapt. “What?

“The baby.” He swallowed thickly. “The heartbeat. I can hear it.” 

“You can?”

He nodded excitedly.

“What’s it sound like?” Foggy whispered, awestruck, placing her hands on his. 

Matt’s hands rested over her stomach, his thumbs tracing gentle circles as he spoke, his voice full of awe. “It’s…really fast. Strong. Beautiful.”

Foggy’s breath caught. Her chest swelled with love, tears filling her eyes. “Hi baby.” She whispered.

“Yeah. Hi.” Matt’s voice cracked slightly and he was smiling. 

God, he sounded so happy. The happiest he had sounded since the night before the attack when she’d asked him about kids. It was the happiest she’d felt too, because now it felt real. 

They were really going to be my parents. This heartbeat was a part of Matt and a part of her, a result of their years of friendship, their love. She blinked and she felt tears spill down her cheeks. 

 “See? They’re telling Daddy they’re okay.” She whispered, pressing back into him, feeling the warmth of their little family. “We’re blessed.”

Matt’s hands stayed over her stomach, an unspoken promise of protection. He kissed her neck and smiled again. 

She truly did feel blessed. 

And just for a while, Foggy thought it seemed like Matt believed that they were too. 

Chapter Text

The guards led Matt down another wing of the prison block, guilt settling in his chest like stone. He couldn’t tell Foggy about this one.  If she ever found out he’d hidden that he’d been sitting across from the man who nearly killed her, the betrayal in her voice would cut deeper than any blade. 

He knew she’d want to come. But the idea of Poindexter even being in her and the baby’s vicinity, of him getting some smug satisfaction out of the bruise on her cheek or the way she still winced if she moved too fast, made Matt physically sick. 

Foggy’s injuries were the embodiment of Matt’s failure, something he knew he’d never truly forgive himself for. Not in this lifetime, not ever. Poindexter knew that. One snide comment at Foggy and Matt wouldn’t be able to control himself. He couldn’t risk it losing it, not when he needed answers. 

This block hummed with a different kind of tension than Fisk’s. It was more erratic, jagged. He didn’t need to hear the man yet to know where he was headed. The heartbeat gave him away. It was steady at first, then stuttering, then steady again, like someone trying too hard to breathe evenly.

Benjamin Poindexter.

Matt sat down across from him. Poindexter leaned forward before the guards had even stepped away, a predator eager to pounce. His smile was thin, stretched too wide, his teeth broken and jagged from Matt’s fists. He was wearing large black mitts, and his hands were chained together. 

“Well, well,” Poindexter said, his voice oozing mockery. “If it isn’t the devil himself. Didn’t expect you to be… well, blind.”

“I didn’t expect you to be walking. How’s that back of yours, by the way? Fisk did a number on it last time I saw you.” 

Poindexter’s heartbeat skipped uneasily but he masked it quickly. “Back’s fine. How’s your wife holding up, by the way? Really got her with that cue ball.”

The words hit Matt like a fist to the gut. He could hear the sickening crack of the pool ball connecting with Foggy’s cheek as if it had just happened. 

His hands clenched into fists under the table and forced a smirk, even as he felt heat crawl up his spine. “Well, she really got you with that pool stick.”

“Yeah, she’s one tough bitch.” Poindexter said, almost as if it were a compliment.

Matt had to hold himself still. If he didn’t, if he let the rage have him, there was no telling what would happen next.

Breathe.

He focused on his breath, the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

"You know why I’m here," he said, his voice tight.

Poindexter tilted his head. “Let me guess. You wanna know how I knew who you were. Why I went after you wife. Right?”

Matt didn’t answer, his jaw locked.

“Word gets around. Friends in high places. You’d be surprised who’s talking.”

Matt’s own pulse stuttered. Friends in high places? Who was he working with?

He had to be bluffing. You didn’t get higher than Fisk, and Fisk was clean. 

“Tell me who.” Matt demanded coldly. 

Poindexter didn’t reply at first. He lifted his hands, chained together in large black mitts, and shrugged. “They won’t let me use my hands. Only let me out to eat and wipe my ass. Tough life, huh?”

“Oh, you poor baby.” Matt sneered. “You expect me to feel sorry for you?”

“Not sorry. But maybe you should be curious.” Poindexter’s heart sped up, and Matt could smell his sweat, feel his legs shaking under the table.

 He wanted something from him. 

“Look Murdock, I’ve got information. Names, places, the whole story. This is bigger than her. Bigger than you. I’ll tell you the whole thing.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “But only if you help me out of here.”

Matt sat for a long moment, waiting for the punchline. When he realized there was none, he laughed coldly. “You’re serious? You want me to help you?”

“You’re a lawyer. And I mean, if you’re not feeling up to it, you could ask Phoebe. I heard she’s even better than you.” Poindexter grinned. “I’m sure she’d want to know who put that hit out on her.”

Matt’s voice dropped low, a warning in every syllable. “Keep her name out of your mouth or you’ll be eating everything through a straw.”

“You know, in another life you might be defending me.”

Matt scoffed. “Because that’s what good men do, right? Defend their worst enemies?” 

Poindexter smiled back, leaning even closer. “You really think you’re the ‘good man’ here? You come in all righteous, all threatening, but you can’t stop me, Matt. You couldn’t even stop me from getting to her.”

Matt’s pulse quickened, rage clawing its way up his throat. The Devil inside him thrashed, begging to be let out, to bash this creep’s face to a pulp. His hands itched to move but he forced himself to remain still, to let the words slide off him.

Breathe. 

He exhaled slowly, forcing the words out with cold precision. “What did you think was going to happen here? I defend you, the man who tried to murder my wife? I get her up on the stand, cross-examine her, and you walk free? Like some episode of Law & Order?” He sneered. “You’re not just insane. You’re an idiot.”

Poindexter tilted his head, studying Matt like he was some kind of specimen. “Don’t you want to know who’s pulling the strings? What if I told you it wasn’t Fisk? Huh? What if you’re chasing the wrong ghost?”

Matt’s chest tightened, but he forced himself to stay calm. Poindexter’s heart beat with truth. There was something bigger at play, and he needed answers. He needed them for Foggy.

“I’m not chasing anyone,” Matt said, his voice ice-cold. “You think you can threaten me with some vague promises about ‘friends in high places’?”

“Oh, I’m not threatening you. I’m just pointing out the facts. You owe me. Your family’s alive because of me. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” Matt spat, disbelief flooding his voice.

“Yeah. I missed. Half an inch, right?”

Matt’s blood went cold. 

Half an inch. You’re a lucky man. 

Poindexter leaned in, his eyes gleaming. “ I could’ve done it. I was going to do it. That was the job.  But then I heard what Karen said. Saw your face, even under that mask. How scared—” he spat the word, “—you were. You couldn’t have stopped me if you tried.”

One of Matt’s hands gripped the edge of the steel table.

“Do you think about it? That moment when you thought you’d lost everything? Does that half an inch keep you up at night?” Poindexter’s voice was soft, almost teasing. “That’s what you owe me.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” Matt snarled. 

“Oh, but you do.” His voice took on a sickly sweetness, the kind that made Matt’s blood boil. “You think you’re in control? You’re not. You want to know who’s really behind all this? Who put you in a position to lose everything? You need me.”

Matt’s breath slowed as he fought to keep his temper in check. 

Control, Matt. You have control. 

“You expect me to believe you? That this is all some grand conspiracy? That I’m just some pawn in a bigger game?” His voice was low, but his words came with the weight of conviction. "You know what I think? You’re bluffing. I think you’re backed into a corner and you want a way out. You know you’ve got life, and they’re going to stick your ass in general population. Won’t be fun for ex-FBI. You won’t make it six months.”

Poindexter’s heart raced, but the grim satisfaction in Matt’s chest soothed him for a moment.

But then he leaned forward, his grin widening with dark glee. “She won’t either. You think they’re done? The job’s not finished, Murdock. You know that.”

Matt’s heart rate spiked. His mouth tasted like acid.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But come on, Counselor, we both know what you get up to when the sun goes down. You think you’re all that sane?” His voice dropped to a quiet, deliberate whisper. “We both know the truth. That at night, when no one’s watching… you’re just like me. Just with a little more control.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“But you wanted to be. That night, when you were beating my face in, you wanted to kill me so badly. You wanted that more than you even wanted her to live. I could tell.” Poindexter gestured to himself. “One slip up, and you would’ve been sitting right here where I am. This close.”

Matt stood up, his voice a controlled snarl. “I’m done here. You’re wasting my time. I’ll see you in court.”

Dex’s laughter was dark, slow, like he had all the time in the world. “Daddy’s too slow.” 

Matt froze. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“That got to you, didn’t it?” He cackled. “Because you were. I could’ve taken her, your kid, and you wouldn’t have done a damn thing.” He leaned back, eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that. How much of a failure you really are.”

Matt’s chair screeched back, a flash of white-hot rage flooding his veins. He lunged across the table, one hand grabbing Poindexter by the collar, the other slamming his head into the steel tabletop. Once. Twice. Three times.

The sickening cracks of Poindexter’s nose and teeth breaking filled the room, and the taste of blood was in the air.

 It felt good. Cathartic. 

“Who’s too slow now?” Matt snarled in his ear.

Poindexter’s laugh gurgled through blood, delirious, thrilled. “Thank you, counselor.”

“Fuck you.”

Matt shoved him back down. He straightened, forcing a mask of calm onto his face before smacking the window. “Guard!”

Matt heard the door click open. 

“I heard banging,” he said coolly, adjusting his jacket. “Sounds like he’s smashing his head into the table.”

“Come on you crazy  asshole.” The guard snapped, heaving Poindexter up and dragging him from the room. 

Matt was ushered out, his chest heaving. He replayed the encounter over and over, dissecting every pause, every flicker of Poindexter’s heartbeat.

Friends in high places? What did he mean? Who else knows?

When he was outside the city hit him all at once. Horns blaring, footsteps echoing against concrete, the distant scrape of tires on asphalt. It was all magnified, every sound a hammer against his nerves. Poindexter’s mocking words still rang in his ears.

Daddy’s too slow.

He felt Foggy’s blood warm on his hands, her trembling fingers clutching for him, the helplessness and rage tangling into one knot in his chest.

Nothing scared him more than the thought that he could lose everything he loved in a single heartbeat. All because he wasn’t strong enough or fast enough or smart enough. All because he was weak. 

To his shame, Stick’s voice again rang in his ears about consequences. Consequences to wanting people, needing people, how it made you weak. How it was impossible to balance love and being what the city needed.

No! Matt shook his head sharply, as if trying to shake out the voice that haunted him.

He could do both. He had to.

Matt gritted his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline still pulsing in his veins.

He’d almost lost it all. Foggy, his heart, his everything. Their baby. He swore to God it would never happen again. 

And if Poindexter—or anyone else—tried to take them from him again? They would pay. All of them.

Every. Single. One.

Chapter Text

“Phoebe P. Murdock, you are a super star.” Karen said when Foggy walked into the office. “Gets shot and is already back to work.”

“Eh.” Foggy grinned nonchalantly. “This ain’t my first rodeo, lawyering with a bullet wound.”

She’d been referring to the Castle case, trying to be funny, but Matt tensed beside her. He muttered something under his breath and stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. 

Karen’s wide eyes were on his office door. “Is he—.”

Foggy waved her off, her voice laced with irritation. “Warden’s pissed because he wanted me to stay home.” 

They’d fought last night and most of the morning. Matt had been on edge, jaw tight, not sleeping through the night. Foggy had hoped hearing the baby’s heartbeat would snap him out of it. For a while it had. Now, he was worse than before. She felt like he hadn’t cracked a smile in a week. 

When she’d told him she was coming back to the office, it must’ve been his last straw because he lost it. Completely.

He’d said she needed to heal, that she was being reckless, that she could work from home, that she needed to think about the baby.

She’d shot back that she had to work, that she wanted to get back to normal, that she was tired of being scared. And that she was going to the office with or without him so if he was coming along, he’d better grab his coat.

Foggy’s frustration flared, her voice rising, knowing that Matt would hear everything. “I mean what does he expect me to do? We own a firm together. It’s not like we’ve got a dozen associates ready to pick up my cases. How the hell are we supposed to pay for this baby if we don’t work?”

She heard Matt sigh loudly behind his door.

Karen shifted uneasily. “You know how I always make jokes about how gross you two are when you’re all lovey-dovey? Can we get that back? Because this—” she gestured to the tense air, “—this is worse.”

Foggy stared at Matt’s closed door for a beat before pasting in a smile. “Alright Karen Page, you jewel of a secretary. What do you got for me?”

Soon their office was back in full swing. Foggy was answering emails, running through briefs. It felt almost normal, except Matt was shut in his office. Karen walked into his office once to hand him a brief. Foggy could hear Karen ask him something and Matt grunt back in response. When she came out her eyebrows were raised and she shot Foggy a look that said, Do not go in there. 

Foggy just rolled her eyes. Matt would get over it. 

When she had a break her eyes fell on the file in her desk. It was Benny’s. 

Sadness and guilt tightened her chest. Benny hadn’t deserved what happened, no matter how much wine he stole.

She felt awful about calling him Dumb Benny now. 

“You want coffee?” Karen asked.

“No thanks.” Foggy gestured to her coffee mug. “Trying to choke down some ginger tea so I don’t puke everywhere.”

Karen wrinkled her nose. “That sounds disgusting. Also, uh… when I went in there, Matt wanted to know if you’re done being mad at him.”

“Depends. Is he done sulking?”

Karen groaned. “Stop. You guys are making me feel like a child of divorce.”

“Well,” Foggy spoke directly to the door, knowing Matt was listening, “once Dad realizes Mom isn’t made of glass, we can get back on track.”

“You guys are impossible.”

“He’s impossible.” It sounded childish even to herself. 

Karen gave her a look. “Come on, Foggy. He watched you get shot. Give the guy a break.”

Suddenly, Foggy could hear his broken voice from that night, the one that haunted her dreams. Frantic. Pleading. More afraid than he’s ever sounded.

It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. Just breathe, baby.

A wave of guilt crashed over her. She knew she wasn’t being fair. She’d been the one shot, the one who nearly died, but Matt had watched, tried to stop her bleeding, and waited for hours while she was in surgery. Not only that, but he’d found out he was going to be a dad in arguably the worst way possible. 

Foggy thought  about every time she had seen Matt hurt, back when they were just friends, and how awful it felt. She remembered the night she’d found out he was Daredevil. He was passed out on his apartment floor in a puddle of blood, and she’d never felt so helpless in her life. Or scared and angry. 

She did know how he was feeling. 

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll think about not being mad at him anymore.”

“Good. Because this tension? Not my favorite.” Karen leaned toward the file on Foggy’s desk. “What are you doing?”

“Just thinking.” She sat down the file and rubbed her temples. “I just wish I knew what really happened. Was I the target because of Benny, or was he the target because  of me?”

“I know. It’s been bugging me too.” Karen frowned. “Let’s say you were shot because of whatever Benny was tangled in. Then why hire a hitman who’s got such a personal vendetta?”

“And if Benny was just collateral because of me, then why involve him at all?” Foggy leaned back. “Poindexter is insane, not a criminal mastermind. He would have just come for me directly if it was all about revenge.”

“This is either the most insane coincidence in the world—.” Karen started. 

“Or maybe it was both.” Foggy finished. “Someone had a problem with Benny and with Matt and me. Two birds, one psycho." 

“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.” Karen muttered.

Foggy’s phone buzzed, cutting her off. She checked the ID.

 Brett Mahoney.

She answered with a smile. “Hey, Brett. How’s my favorite Sergeant today?”

The second Brett didn’t reply back with something snarky, Foggy knew something was wrong. “Foggy… I’m sorry to tell you this—”

Her chest tightened. His words blurred together: …escaped… still at large… doing everything we can…

The world went muffled.

“…Foggy? You still there?”

She barely heard him. She felt like her vision was tunneling, and her stomach lurched. “I need to puke.”

The phone slipped from her hand, clattering onto her desk. She staggered to her feet. Matt was suddenly beside her, scooping up the phone and yelling something into it, but the words didn’t stick.

She bolted for the bathroom, dropped to her knees, and vomited the entire ginger tea into the toilet.

Poindexter.

He had escaped.

He was out there. Coming for her. For the baby. For Matt.

“Foggy?” Karen’s voice, soft through the door.

“I need a minute,” she rasped before vomiting again, bile burning her throat. 

She screwed her eyes shut, and there he was again. Black mask, gun pointed at her.

“Congratulations,” he’d said, and she could still hear his laugh echoing in her mind. 

The world swam, everything closing in. She couldn’t breathe. She nearly puked again but swallowed it down. 

When the wave subsided she sat back, head between her knees, fighting to slow her breath.

He knew their secret. No one was safe. 

“Foggy.” Matt’s frantic voice was muffled through the door. The handle rattled. “Let me in!”

“I said I need a minute!” Her voice cracked, and she could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The door handle sounded like it was going to snap, but Matt’s voice was gentle. “I know you do, but open the door, baby. Please.”

Breathe, Foggy. In. Out. You can do this. For the baby. For Matt.

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” His voice cracked, helpless. 

Her hand went to her stomach. He was right. She wasn’t fine. But she had to be. For Matt and the baby. She had to get it together.

Her hands trembled, but she forced herself upright. She flushed the toilet, rinsed her mouth quickly, and took one last, shuddering breath before unlocking the door. Matt was there instantly, his arms wrapping around her as though she might vanish if he let go. His heart pounded against her ear, heavy and fast. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, as if to remind himself more than her. His lips pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m right here.”

Foggy clutched him desperately, burying herself in his arms and trying not to cry. They held each other for a long time, their fight from earlier that morning completely forgotten.

Karen appeared in the doorway with tissues and water. “Here.” 

Foggy dabbed her mouth, sipped the water. Her stomach settled enough to breathe.

“Brett’s still on the line,” Matt said, lifting the phone.

“Put him on speaker.”

Brett’s voice filled the cramped bathroom. “You okay, Nelson?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Give it to me straight.”

“Well, from what we can gather he worked alone. Killed a guard. Stole his clothes. Walked right out. By the time they figured out what happened, he was gone.”

“How?” Matt snapped. “He shouldn’t have had anything he could throw.”

“He didn’t.” Brett was grim. “He spit his tooth out like a damned bullet. Went right through the guard’s eye.”

Foggy blinked, barely able to process. A tooth. Her pulse hammered in her ears. “So… let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “He MacGyvered his way out of a maximum-security prison…with a tooth?”

“One guard said he’d been slamming his face into a table a few days ago. Guess he knocked it loose and kept it. Waiting.”

Matt went still. “Slamming his face?”

“Yeah. Fucking psycho. Turned his tooth into a sniper rifle.” 

“Jesus.” Karen whispered, shaking her head. 

 “We’re throwing everything we’ve got at finding him. We can get you surveillance for the office and your apartment.  But… I wanted you to hear it from me. I’m sorry, Foggy.”

“Thanks Brett.” Foggy said hoarsely, ending the call.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of what they’d just learned hanging over them.

Karen shook her head. “A tooth. He escaped with a tooth.”

“Resourceful little creep.” Foggy muttered. 

Matt began pacing, hand raking through his hair. He looked ill. 

“Matt?”

“This is my fault,” he rasped.

“How? It’s not like you knocked out his—” Karen froze when she saw his face. “Wait… you didn’t, did you?”

Foggy felt her throat go tight. “And how exactly did you get close enough to him to knock out his tooth?”

Silence hung heavy in the air. His shoulders slumped. “I went to see him. And I…slammed his face into a table.”

Foggy felt her stomach drop. She took a second to process before she spoke. “Was this before or after Fisk?”

Matt looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up. “After.”

Foggy felt her face grow hot. She felt so betrayed. “You lied to me. Again.”

“I didn’t lie-.”

“Omitting the truth is the same as lying! We just talked about this!”

“I just wanted to talk to him! Information, a lead, something!”

“You should have told me!”

“You would’ve wanted to come with me and the thought of that monster even looking at you makes me sick!”

Foggy stared at him, jaw tight. “So did you even get anything?”

She could tell by his expression he hadn’t. 

“So it was for nothing.” She snapped. 

His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for—”

“I know you didn’t Matt!” Her voice cracked in frustration. “But you made a decision without me and it cost us! You can’t just do things without telling me! Not when it affects us! Not when it affects the baby!”

He flinched. 

“Look,” she began, her voice tight, forcing herself to keep calm, “I’m not mad at you for slamming his face into the table. I’d want to smash his stupid face too.”

She hesitated, swallowing the rising bitterness before continuing, “But, Matthew Michael Murdock, I need you to listen to me when I tell you this, okay? I don’t blame you for him escaping. You’re going to do that enough for the both of us. But I am mad that you lied to me. That you left me out of something that affects me directly.”

His face crumbled with guilt. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Foggy stepped closer, brushing a hand over her stomach. “That psycho ruined my baby reveal. He’s sure as hell not ruining my pregnancy.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I’ll handle it. I’ll make sure he never comes near us again.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You dropped the ball during your solo act. We all handle this. Together. We need a plan.”

“I’ve got some old leads from the last time we had a run in with him. We could start there. See if we can figure out where he’s going to go.” Karen said. “And we need to look into Benny again. We missed something.”

“Great. Karen and I are on intel. Matt’s on reconnaissance. Perfect.”

“Foggy.” He sounded pained. “You’re pregnant and you’re still healing-.”

“But I’m still me. I’m still a lawyer, your wife. Your partner.” She pointed at her stomach. “Now I’m a mom. I can protect our family too. We’re a team.”

Matt swallowed, his expression raw. 

“Matt. I need you to say that to me.”

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, his body trembling as he pressed his cheek against her hair.

“We’re a team.” His words were barely a whisper.

Foggy shut her eyes and held onto him, but something in the way he said it, something in his embrace, made her uneasy. The promise in his voice felt too fragile, like a promise made under pressure. “You’re not just saying that to keep me calm, are you?”

Matt’s grip tightened around her, his voice low and steady. “No. I mean it.”

But even as he held her, Foggy couldn’t help but wonder if Matt’s hug was an apology for what he had done or for what he planned on doing.

Chapter Text

The plan was simple. Foggy and Karen would look into Benny’s case and help find clues on Poindexter’s whereabouts while Matt suited up and searched the streets for him. 

When Matt was out hunting, the apartment turned into a war room. Papers were sprawled across the floor, notebooks stacked haphazardly, and sticky notes peppering every surface.

“It’s just like a sleepover! Minus the stress of death.” Foggy joked, trying to lighten the mood as she nibbled on green apples and sipped ginger tea, the only things that kept her stomach from churning.

Karen smirked but didn’t look up, her eyes scanning the pages in front of her. “When are we not facing threats of imminent death?”

“We go through seasons. It's been a while, so I guess we were due.” 

Karen chuckled, but then her voice grew serious. “Okay, here’s what we know. Benny stole the wine from a warehouse in Red Hook. Was any of it ever reported missing?”

“Nope.” Foggy set her mug down on a stack of case files. “A single bottle goes for eight hundred bucks, and he swiped twenty cases. Someone would notice. But no one ever came forward.”

“Which means someone didn’t want to fess up to even owning it.” Karen chewed her pen. “Sounds like someone is hiding something down there that’s so secretive they don’t even want to report it when they’ve been robbed.”

“And Benny drew attention to it the minute he was arrested and charged. Which tells us why they wanted Benny dead.”

“And whoever was going to be his lawyer.” Karen scrunched her brow thoughtfully. “They were afraid they’d find something. But when they saw it was you, it suddenly was more personal.”

“It became an opportunity. It wasn’t going to look like a simple hit. At least to Matt, it was supposed to look like revenge. Use Poindexter to kill me, Benny looks like collateral, and with both of us gone whatever is happening in Red Hook stays buried.” Foggy whistled. “They made it so we were both the target and collateral damage to each other. It’s…kind of brilliant actually.”

“Honestly, this reeks of Fisk.”

“I know.” Foggy sighed. “But Matt swears he’s not behind it. He believes him. So we have to think bigger.”

Karen tapped her pen against her notebook, lost in thought. “Then we start with the warehouses. Ownership records, shipping licenses, shell companies. Someone left a trail, we just have to find it.”

“Find the warehouse, find the owner.” Foggy flipped open her laptop, determination hardening her face. “And once we do that…we find the one who wanted me dead.”

***

“Let’s go over it again, Matt.” Karen scribbled in her notebook in the office. 

Matt pinched the skin between his eyes, irritation palpable. “I’m telling you, he didn’t give me a single clue on where he was, how his back was fixed, or where he would be going.”

“Just the vague threat about the friends in high places?” Karen asked neutrally. 

“Yeah.” Matt’s voice was sharp, frustration snapping. “That’s it. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

Foggy’s hand was on his arm, but he stayed rigid. “We just want to make sure that we didn’t miss anything.”

“I know.” Matt stood up, raking his hand through his hair. “I just… I need a breather.”

Without another word, he snatched his cane and stalked out of the office, the door swinging shut behind him.

Foggy and Karen watched him go. 

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Karen said, her voice tinged with hurt. “I’m just trying to help.” 

“He’s not mad at you. He’s just... mad,” Foggy said, her gaze lingering on the door he’d just slammed shut. 

“I’ll say. Did you see how close he came to throwing the printer across the room when the paper jammed?”

“I know. He’s on edge 24/7. I told him he’d grind his teeth down to nothing, and he didn’t even crack a smile.” Foggy shook her head, frustration mixing with concern. “He’s blaming himself for the escape no matter what I tell him.”

“Typical Matt.” Karen sighed sadly. “Always feeling guilty about one thing or another.”

“Yeah. No one knows that better than me.” Foggy plopped down on her desk, flipping open her laptop. “Come on. The sooner we catch this bastard, the sooner we can get the pleasant Matt back.”

***

“One of my contacts got back to me!” Karen bounced over to Foggy’s desk excitedly. 

Foggy was in the middle of drafting an unrelated subpoena and had been working on the same sentence for at least five minutes. Matt had been leaving work earlier  and coming in later so that he could be out looking for Poindexter longer. She understood that he was pushing himself as penance, but she was exhausted. She was doing the work for the two of them on top of her investigation with Karen. All she wanted to do was sleep. 

And not throw up. She honestly didn’t know who was wearing her out more— Matt or their baby. 

Foggy blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Huh?”

“My contact about Poindexter!” Karen turned her laptop toward Foggy, her face beaming. “Look! So, after Fisk’s wedding, my source says Poindexter was transported to an ‘unknown facility’ in New York. Not a hospital, not a prison. Something completely off the grid.”

“Seriously?” Foggy balked, leaning forward to read the screen.

“Yes! See? ‘Involuntary psychiatric detention, location unknown.’ Someone packed him up and stuck him somewhere off the radar.”

“The government? He is ex-FBI.” 

“Or a private contractor. Whoever hired him?”

Foggy shook her head, disbelief creeping into her voice. “You think whoever hired him for this hit just happened to keep him detained for years in a private psych ward and then unleash him when they need him? Like some... rabid dog?”

“Stranger things have happened to us,” Karen said with a shrug, a dark humor lacing her voice. “We’re kind of experts at it.”

Foggy laughed but it was tight, forced. “I’ll text this to Matt.” She pulled out her phone, trying to focus.

Karen glanced around the office. “He left? Already? The sun is still out!”

Foggy shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. 

“Foggy, you’re exhausted. Your dark circles have dark circles!” Karen shook her head, concern creeping into her voice. “I know he’s out looking, but you can’t run  this entire firm by yourself, especially when you’re pregnant.”

Foggy tried to muster a smile. “Karen Page, I am a badass lawyer. I can handle anything.”

“Uh-huh. What have you eaten today?”

“Um… what have I eaten or what have I kept down?”

“Foggy!” Karen chided her, her tone sharp but worried. “That’s not good! Does Matt know you’re this sick?”

Foggy shrugged again, her smile faltering. “Kind of? If not, he’ll know when we go to the OB in a couple weeks.”

Karen stared at her for a long moment, her concern growing. “Okay. Fine. I’m going to follow up with my source. Promise me you’ll eat something that isn’t a green apple?”

“I promise.” Foggy winked, trying to lighten the mood again, but she knew there was a weariness in her eyes that Karen couldn’t ignore.

As Karen turned back to her laptop, Foggy sighed quietly, her gaze falling to the pile of case files spread out before her. She tried to shake off the nagging feeling that things weren’t quite right. They were doing their best, but the weight of it all seemed to be pushing down on her, suffocating her with every passing hour.

Once this was over, she thought, then we can get back to normal.

***

“Here we go. Everything we requested from the Brooklyn Historical Society. Property records, municipal codes, and a whole bunch of other documents about Red Hook.” Karen spread out the  papers on the apartment floor.

Foggy yawned and scrubbed her eyes, flipping through a pile of papers. “Cool. Let’s get through this stuff and see if we can find anything. Your source get us any more info on that facility Poindexter was in?”

Karen shook her head. “No. They just told me it’s called a 'black site facility' and that there are rumored to be a few in New York. Specific location unknown, obviously.”

“Matt’s on the streets looking for info about it.”

Karen glanced up at Foggy. “How’s he?”

“He’s fine. Just tired.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. He was tired. She just wasn’t sure if he was fine.

He’d started sleeping on the couch these last few days, saying he didn’t want to wake her up too early. He was always dressed and ready for work by the time she woke up. 

The bed felt empty without him beside her.

Before, when Matt would come home in the early hours of the morning after being out as Daredevil, he’d undress and flop into bed next to her. His limbs would sprawl out like a starfish, always touching her in some way. Whether it was spooning, his hand resting on her hip, or his foot brushing against hers, there was a comfort in his closeness. That no matter what he’d done that night, he was still hers by morning. 

Now, a rift had opened up between them seemed to widen with every passing day. She told herself it was the stress. But even as the words ran through her mind, they felt hollow.

God, she was so tired. She just wanted to sleep. Sleep with Matt, more specifically.

“Alright,” she muttered, forcing a smile, “let's get going. We’ve got the entire Library of Congress to sift through.”

***

Later that night, Foggy heard Matt come in after three in the morning. She listened to the familiar sound of his footsteps, the way he moved through the apartment—quiet, deliberate. The shower ran, then silence. She waited for him to crawl into bed beside her. But instead, she heard the soft creak of the couch as he settled in there.

What the hell?

Foggy sighed and got out of bed, padding softly into the living room. Matt was sprawled across the couch, eyes shut, breathing heavy but uneven, like sleep had become a battle. He was wearing sweats instead of underwear. Foggy frowned. Matt had always been weird about what materials he slept in, if any, and those sweats were not his normal. 

"Matt?" she whispered, touching his arm gently.

His eyes snapped open. He jerked away from her touch, his nostrils flaring as though he’d been startled awake by a threat.

“Wh-what—?” His voice was hoarse, disoriented.

“It’s me. Sorry.”

Matt sighed, relieved, before slowly sinking back into the couch. “Hi. You okay?”

“Yeah. What are you doing? Come to bed.”

“I didn’t want to wake you—”

“I’m awake now, Matt. Come on.” She poked him lightly, trying to inject some playfulness into her voice. “We haven’t snuggled in like a week, and I’m getting withdrawals.”

He didn’t crack a smile. He didn’t try. He didn’t even move. His hesitation landed like a punch to her gut. She could feel her face flushing with sudden embarrassment.

Matt finally sat up, yawning deeply, his movements sluggish. “Okay.”

He followed her into the bedroom, but Foggy startled when he climbed into bed, still dressed in his sweatsuit. He would usually shed his clothes and curl up next to her.

"Aren’t you going to be hot?" she asked, the concern threading her words.

“Huh?”

“You’re wearing sweats.” She couldn’t hide her confusion even if she tried. 

“Oh.” Matt shrugged. “I’m cold.”

“Seriously? I have never seen you wear that to bed.” Foggy’s brow furrowed, a knot of discomfort growing in her chest. “Are you okay?”

He adjusted himself, his movements stiff. “I’m fine, sweetie.”

“Are you hurt?” Foggy asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

He shook his head, his eyes already shutting, his breathing slowing as if he was preparing to shut her out completely.

“Matt? I’m serious. Are you hurt?”

“No.” He said it with finality. 

Foggy watched him for a bit before crawling  into bed beside him, her body instinctively moving closer. But he didn’t reach for her. The space between them felt like an abyss. She wrapped her arm around his middle, resting her head against his shoulder in a silent plea for him to acknowledge her. His head tilted slightly toward her, but he didn’t touch her.

Her heart clenched painfully.

She really missed him.

Foggy leaned up and pressed a few lingering kisses to his cheek and jaw. They weren't lustful as much as they were longing. Kisses that could turn into something more if only he’d turn his head and kiss her back. 

For a fraction of a second, the tension in his jaw released, like he might respond. But then he stiffened under her touch. He leaned over, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her head that felt more like it was obligation rather than  affection.

“I’m just really tired,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

Ouch.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them, like her touch had been an inconvenience. 

“Oh. Got it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sorry.”

Matt rolled over, his back to her. Foggy stared at the back of his head, hoping he'd turn around, hoping he’d notice that something was wrong. Hoping he'd change his mind and at least hug her.

But he didn’t.

She waited until she heard his breathing deepen, and then she knew he was asleep. Foggy stared up at the ceiling, her mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything. How the hell had they gotten here?

How had they gone from being so in love to barely touching each other? When did her best friend start feeling like a stranger?

It was stress. It had to be. He was still in love with her. He still wanted to be with her. He… he still thought she was beautiful. Didn’t he?

It was just everything else. Poindexter, the case, the baby. Couples went through stuff all the time and were fine. Marriage wasn't always supposed to be easy. This was just a rough patch. 

Everything just had to get back to normal, then it would be okay again.

But for the first time, a small part of Foggy wondered if things could go back to normal after this.

***

“How in the hell can half this shit be redacted?” Foggy snapped, tossing another paper to the side.

“I know.” Karen groaned in frustration. “I can’t find anything pertinent in the last five years. I’ve got almost the entire purchasing timeline for the warehouses then it just ends with a sale to a company called Halecrest Holdings.”

“I can’t find anything on this company besides one vague website about real estate. Not even a shitty Yelp review.” Foggy gritted her teeth. “Dammit, if we hit another dead end I’m going to go down there myself and light the whole freaking port on fire.”

Karen stared at her. “Woah. You okay?”

Foggy laughed bitterly. “I’m great. I’m pregnant, sick, there’s a hit on me, I’m up to my armpits in casework and, oh yeah, my husband hasn’t slept with me in weeks. I feel amazing, actually.”

Karen’s gaze softened, her voice quiet. “You’re upset. All valid.”

Foggy’s chest tightened, a wave of frustration and helplessness crashing over her. She scrubbed at her face, the exhaustion thick in her voice. “I know I am! Tell that to my husband who’s apparently actually blind to everything now.” The words hit harder than she expected, and she blinked back tears, turning her face away. “Do you think it’s an attraction thing?”

Karen was taken aback. “What?”

“Fat!” Foggy threw her hands up, her voice rising in frustration. “Do you think he thinks I’m fat?”

“What? No!” Karen gestured to her stomach. “You’re living off of green apples and tea, Foggy! How in the world could you be fat?”

“I don’t know, ask Matt because apparently even breathing in my direction is an inconvenience.” Her voice wobbled, then she burst into tears. 

Karen stood up, rushing over to her and patting her back. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so hormonal.” Foggy cried, rubbing her face. 

“It’s fine.” Karen reassured her gently. “What can I do? Want me to call him? Tell him if he doesn’t get over here I’ll fight him? Beat him with his own baton? Because I will.”

Foggy knew she was trying to lighten the mood. She attempted to smile but failed  miserably.

“He doesn’t even talk me anymore, Karen. Doesn’t sleep in the same bed as me. I’ve been begging for his attention and all he does is shut me out. It’s like I’m invisible. I’m pregnant with his baby. I shouldn’t have to beg him for a hug.”

Karen gently placed a hand on Foggy’s arm, her voice soft but firm. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“Is it me?”

“No! I really don’t think it’s an attraction thing. You two were like, borderline gross a few weeks ago. I literally caught you guys in the copy room. Remember? I saw Matt’s butt and had to bleach my eyes.” 

Foggy huffed out a weak laugh. She was right. Intimacy had never been a problem before. Actually, the only “problem” it caused was that productivity dropped because Matt would “distract” her at work. 

Karen patted her back. “It’s obvious you’re everything to him, okay? He’s just…he’s stressed and I think he’s pushing you away because he’s scared.”

“I’m scared too. I need him.” Her breath hitched, and her voice broke. “I just… I’m freaking out. What if he’s flipping back into his old, secretive, self-sacrificial bullshit? Thinking everyone’s better off if he does it alone. Or maybe…God, maybe he’s freaking out about the pregnancy. Maybe he’s thinking about everything he’s going to have to balance and thinking he can’t—”

“Foggy.”

“Or maybe he’s feeling trapped and maybe we’re not enough for him and it’s making him distant—.”

“Stop. You’re spiraling.” Karen whispered, handing Foggy a tissue. “You know how he gets. He’s just lost in his own head. He’s scared and trying to protect you guys. But you need to sit him down and talk to him. It can’t go on like this.”

“I know.” Foggy sniffed. “He’s just so tired and I only see him at work. I… I’m going to try after our OB appointment tomorrow. It’s just been so hard. I feel so alone.”

“You’ve got me.” Karen said gently. “I’m here for you.”

Foggy gave a watery smile, managing to hold back the last of her tears. “Yeah.” She sniffed again, her lips curving into a more genuine grin. “I’ve got you. The best damn godmother there is.”

“Damn straight.”

***

It was nearly time for her appointment and Matt still wasn’t here.

He’d left work early. Said he’d go out on a quick patrol and meet her at the office before the appointment. 

“Matt, it’s me again. Just wanted to check on you. We have to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time. If you’re not here in like, five minutes I have to go. So…yeah call me back. Please.” Foggy sighed, her hand clutching the phone loosely. 

“He’s still not here?” Karen asked, holding a box of papers and files.

“No.” Foggy mumbled, “He hasn’t even texted me. Should I cancel? I know things have been bad but I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Karen hesitated, glancing between Foggy and the papers in her hands. "No, I wouldn't. You should go. He’ll catch up with you when he can."

Foggy tried to smile, but it came out flat. "I guess I can’t keep waiting forever.”

A wave of frustration bubbled up, and she quickly shoved it aside. 

Relax Foggy. He’s out there risking his life, trying to find Poindexter. He’s not doing anything wrong. 

Still, the sense of being abandoned lingered in the pit of her stomach. Not just for her, but for the baby. 

This is temporary. He won’t be like this forever.

But was it? 

Matt’s distance hung heavy over her, and she began spiraling. Every time Matt had ever been late or missed something because of Daredevil flashed in her mind. She felt like she was starting to panic. What else  would he miss? 

He’ll be there for the baby. He has to be. He’ll be a good dad. You know that. 

Do I? 

A tiny, cruel voice hissed at her. It’s not enough for him. He needs the suit. That’s the only thing that’s ever enough.

Foggy swallowed thickly. There it was. Her biggest fear. That Matt loved her, but the part of him that was Daredevil would never be satisfied with this life, this domesticity.

She loved both parts of him. The man and the Devil. Now she just wondered if both parts of him loved her as much. 

"Want me to go with you?" Karen offered, breaking the silence.

Foggy blinked, her heart clenching. Karen’s offer was a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. Even if Matt couldn’t be there, she had someone who cared just as much about the baby." She gave Karen a grateful smile. "You’d want to?”

“Duh! I’m the godmother!” Karen grinned, her voice softening with sincerity. “And the best friend, obviously.”

“The best.” Foggy smiled, grabbing her bag. “Come on. We may have to sprint. In heels.”

***

Foggy’s hand trembled as she flipped through another set of documents. The frustration had been building for hours. She was ready to call it a night. She was so tired, of dead-ends, of missing puzzle pieces, of redacted and missing documents. Then her eyes landed on the faded document in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Holy shit.” She read it again. “Holy shit!”

“Huh?” Karen raised her head up, blinking through a haze of municipal records.

Foggy shoved the paper toward Karen. “Red Hook is a free port.”

“A what?” Karen yawned, rubbing her eyes.

“According to this charter from 1855, Red Hook is a free port!” Foggy jumped up, her smile stretching across her face. “It makes sense now. It all makes sense!”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s a free port?”

“A free port is a place exempt from regular customs, taxes, tariffs, and beyond the jurisdiction of New York State or the U.S. It’s a legal loophole. Immunity. No one can prosecute you because technically, it’s no man’s land.”

Karen’s eyes grew wide. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah. Benny stole the wine from there. If he had been upfront about where he got it, the cops would’ve swarmed that place. If a lawyer or investigator found out about Red Hook’s status, Benny could’ve argued he didn’t commit a crime since it's technically outside New York or U.S. jurisdiction.”

“So Halecrest is using the free port to bring in goods without taxes,” Karen added, sitting up straight, suddenly alert. “Hence the crazy expensive wine.”

“Yeah, and who knows what else they’re bringing in.”

Karen sprang up, scribbling furiously in her notebook. “So Benny steals wine, tells police he found it in a subway. Fine. But then Halecrest finds out he’s lawyered up, might spill the truth, and bam—it blows the whole operation wide open.”

Foggy paced, a grin on her face. “Exactly. This whole thing isn’t just about the wine. Halecrest is probably using that port to launder everything.”

Karen leaned back, staring at her. “Holy shit, Foggy, you are a legal genius.”

“I know.” She grinned, looking pleased. “We need to tell Matt. Stake out the warehouses, get evidence.”

“Foggy.” Karen swallowed. “I know we’ve been through this already, but… this is still screaming Fisk to me. What’s Fisk do? Launder money through businesses. He’s savvy enough to know a legal loophole like this. And the guy hired to kill you and Benny?  Someone super personal to Matt that Fisk has used before.”

“I know, I know. But Matt said—.”

“The black-site facility,” Karen continued, “who had the means to do that? Fisk. Maybe he paid to get Poindexter’s back fixed as some weird apology or penance, then hired him for this. It wouldn’t be that hard to convince Poindexter to go after you.”

“I know but Matt said Fisk is clean.” Foggy argued weakly. 

“I know what he said. But could he be wrong? Sometimes the answers the look stupidly obvious are actually the answer.”

Foggy felt doubt creeping in. Could he have been wrong? It’s not like she was there. She didn’t know exactly what Matt asked. Maybe he missed something or misjudged it. 

“Maybe he did.” Foggy sighed. “We bring all of this to him and ask him. Then we go from there.”

Karen nodded. “Yeah. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

***

“I’m telling you both,” Matt snapped, his voice sharp, “Fisk wasn’t lying.”

Foggy shoved the laptop toward him, a bit more forcefully than she intended. She knew he couldn’t see it but wanted him to hear how angry she was. He wasn’t even listening to their evidence. “But Matt, look. We know who launders money. Fisk. Poindexter was taken to a black-site psychiatric hospital. It’s private, off-grid. You told us Fisk implied he fixed Poindexter’s spine—”

“He did!” Matt shot back, his tone desperate. “But he wasn’t lying about the attack! I know he didn’t hire Poindexter. I checked. I’ve gone over that conversation a thousand times!”

“We got that, but everything points back to him!” Foggy’s frustration was palpable. “A lucrative money-laundering business? The pull to keep Poindexter off the grid until he needs him? And this personal vendetta against us? It’s all here, Matt.”

Matt’s face reddened slightly, his jaw clenching. “Poindexter told me it wasn’t Fisk. Fisk said it wasn’t him. They weren’t lying.”

“Maybe not lying, but not telling the whole truth,” Karen interjected, her voice careful. “Maybe you didn’t ask the right questions, didn’t get the full picture.”

“I’m a lawyer, Karen. I know what to ask.”

“I'm not saying you don’t.” Karen snapped. “But maybe Fisk figured out how to change his heartbeat. Maybe Poindexter didn’t know who hired him and was bluffing. There are a million factors.”

Matt’s jaw tightened further. “I don’t just listen to heartbeats! It’s breathing, sweat, and the way someone moves. I’ve had these senses since I was a kid. I know how to use them.”

Foggy’s eyes narrowed, and she hissed under her breath, “Yeah, Matt. You’re never wrong, are you?”

The words hung in the air. Matt’s nostrils flared, and Foggy could see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The air felt suffocating now. Foggy’s fists were clenched at her sides. “It means we’re trying to help you, and you keep brushing us off. Like Karen and I haven’t been busting our asses every night to figure this out. Like it’s not our fight too.”

Matt exhaled forcefully.  “You wanna trade jobs?”

Foggy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. We know how important this is to you. We wouldn’t dare.”

“What are you trying to say, Foggy?” he asked slowly, like he did when he was trying not to lose his temper.

“I’m just saying we definitely have a sense of your priorities.”

“Priorities?” he parroted, voice rising. “Like what? Finding the guy who tried to shoot my wife?”

Karen shifted uncomfortably, looking like she wanted to shrink into the floor. She spoke lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on guys, the awkwardness is killing me. Let’s not fight.”

“Since when is finding him not the top priority?”

“Oh, it's your top priority. It’s your every priority.”

“And why wouldn’t it be?”

”I don’t know. Wouldn’t me and the baby be the priority?”

“Yes, obviously! That’s why I’m out there all night looking for him!”

Karen’s eyes shifted back and forth between them. “Alright, that's my cue. I  think I should go—”

“Yeah, we need a minute.” Matt’s voice was strained.

“No.” Foggy pointed firmly at Karen. “You stay. You’re practically co-parenting with me at this point.”

Matt rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Foggy come on—.”

“Hey Karen, thanks for coming to my OB appointment, by the way.”

Matt froze. His eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about? That’s on—”

“Wednesday. It’s Friday, Matt,” She crossed her arms, expression hardening. “Looks like you were wrong about something.”

“Okay, now I know I should leave.” Karen started gathering her things, her hands shaking slightly.

Matt looked more confused for a moment. Foggy watched him run through the dates and times in his head. When he realized what he’d done, she watched his shoulders slump slightly. 

“Shit, Foggy I’m sorry. I must have... I got caught up in… ” He shook his head, his voice knocking up an octave. “Okay, but just because I forgot the appointment doesn’t mean I’m wrong about Fisk. I’m not. I know I’m not.”

“Whatever you say.” Foggy pulled the laptop back toward her, her eyes focused on the screen.

“No, Foggy,” Matt’s voice was firm, but she could hear that he was pleading with her. “I know I’m not. You have to trust me on that.”

“Trust? Sure. I can’t even trust you to come to a fucking appointment.”

“Stop.” he snapped. “Missing an appointment is not the same as this.”

“It’s not just about the appointment.” She said, her voice barely audible.

Matt ran his hands through his hair, frustration and guilt written all over his face. “Can we please talk about this later? Alone?”

“Sure. When can you pencil me in?”

Silence swallowed the room. 

“I didn’t mean to forget,” he said apologetically, his voice softening for the first time. “Sometimes I don’t know what day it is. It’s just with everything going on... it’s been hard.”

Foggy’s chest tightened. “It’s hard on all of us, okay? But we’re a team. You told me that. And right now, it feels like we’re not. You’re pushing me away. You’re barely around. I don’t even know where you are half the time.”

“I’m looking for—.”

“I know!” Foggy sighed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I barely speak to my own husband and frankly, it sucks.”

Matt swallowed hard, his voice soft and full of regret. “Hey. It’s not going to stay like this, okay? This is temporary. Just until I can find him.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can wait that long,” Foggy’s words were quieter now, but still full of anger. 

“What do you mean?” Matt asked softly, but Foggy could hear that he was panicking slightly. 

“I mean that whatever this is,” she motioned vaguely between them, “doesn’t work for us. It’s not working for me.”

“I know. I know that.” He reached out like he wanted to touch her arm but then decided to rub his jaw instead. “But I can’t stop until we find him. I just... I can’t.”

Karen cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension hanging in the room. 

Foggy exhaled sharply, breaking the tension. “It’s fine. Let’s just get back to finding this guy so I can get my freaking life back. Are you going to humor us and stake out the warehouses or not?”

Matt was quiet for a long time, his hands opening and closing at his sides. He seemed to be searching for the right words, but they never came. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and firm. “Yeah. I’ll go check it out.”

“Great. Thanks.” Her words were hollow.

Matt stood there, hesitating. Foggy couldn’t look at him. If she did, she was afraid she’d either start screaming or break down entirely. She couldn’t afford to do either right now. 

“I’ll be back later. Okay?” His voice was gentle, nervous. 

“Okay.”

He stood there longer, like he was hoping she’d say something. Foggy pretended to type something on her laptop. 

“Yeah. Okay.” He sighed. He walked toward the door, but then he stopped, his footsteps halting just shy of the exit. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words carried more weight than he’d ever let on.

The lump in her throat felt like it was choking her.

“Foggy? I love you.” He repeated, his voice raw. Slightly desperate.

Foggy swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Yeah... I love you too,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Matt didn’t say anything else. His shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit, then he just nodded once, like he was acknowledging that she was telling him the truth. Then he turned, and headed out the door.

Foggy stood there for a long moment, her body frozen, the weight of Matt’s words hanging in the air long after he was gone. She wanted to cry. To scream. To yell for Matt to come back and help her fix this before it all fell apart completely. 

But she didn’t.

Her breath hitched, and she wiped a tear from her cheek, angry at herself for letting it fall. She couldn't be weak right now. She had to hold it together. For the baby. For herself.

“Foggy?” Karen asked carefully, “You okay?”

Foggy blinked back her tears, pasted on a smile, and lied. “Yeah. I’m okay.” 

Chapter Text

Yeah…I love you too. 

Matt felt sick walking away from the office. Foggy’s heart had beat true. She still loved him. But it felt so fragile that it didn’t make him feel better. 

He knew he was failing. She was slipping away, and it was all his fault. She didn’t trust him. She questioned his judgment, their marriage, and his presence.

Most of all, she was questioning his ability to be a father. She hadn’t said it out loud, but he felt it. 

I can’t even trust you to come to a fucking appointment.

He winced. How could he have missed that? So stupid. 

Matt inhaled sharply, forcing the air into his lungs as if it might steady him. He just needed to get back out there. The suit. The hunt. He had to focus.

He wasn’t wrong. He’d prove it to her. 

He’d catch Poindexter. He’d show Foggy that she could trust him again, that he was right, that he could protect her.

That he could still be enough for her.

Then he could go back to normal. Back to the way things were. Better even.

He just needed more time. Just a little more time to fix it all.

That night, Matt stood in the shadows, his breath coming heavier than it should have. The city felt colder tonight, or maybe it was just him. The hours had blurred into each other. He’d been searching, moving from alley to alley, street to street, but Poindexter was nowhere to be found.

His body ached. Every joint screamed in protest, and his head felt like it was about to split open. His senses, usually so sharp, felt dull and sluggish. When he leapt down from the fire escape, he misjudged the distance and nearly lost his footing. He righted himself with a sharp wince, rubbing the back of his neck and cursing quietly.

What the hell was going on?

The truth was he did know what was going on. He hadn’t slept properly in days. It was making it hard to concentrate, to filter out sensory input properly, and he could feel himself slowing. 

But sleep felt impossible when Poindexter was still out there, lurking. A threat to everything he loved. The weight of his failure built with every dead end, every time a lead slipped through his fingers.

Where the hell was he?

His chest tightened, an unfamiliar panic clawing at the edges of his mind. He’d told Foggy and Karen he’d check the warehouses. But now? Now all he could think about was finding Poindexter before it was too late. Before Foggy got hurt.

Foggy’s blood, he could still smell her blood—

The sounds on the streets blurred together as he moved across the rooftops, his steps more erratic than usual. His mind raced, his thoughts fragmented, bouncing from one failure to the next. 

How could he protect Foggy if he couldn’t even find Poindexter? What if he couldn’t stop the next attack? What if he was too late?

Stop. Focus. Find him. 

He was angry. So angry. It was bleeding into everything. Into his work. Into his marriage. Into his body. Into the way he was taking it out on everyone else—Foggy, Karen, the city. 

He knew his beloved city was paying the highest price. 

He knocked out the teeth of the mugger yesterday. He snapped the fingers of the Peeping Tom the night before that. A few days ago he’d broke someone’s arm. He couldn’t remember what they’d done, only that at the time that punishment had seem more than fair. 

He couldn’t help it. Every criminal now felt like Poindexter laughing at him, mocking him, trying to hurt Foggy, his baby.

Every criminal on the street could be a threat to them. They didn’t have to act on it right away. But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Maybe they would tomorrow. Or years from now, when he was older and couldn’t protect them. He had to stop them now. 

Safe. He had to make them safe. He couldn’t stop. Not until he found Poindexter. And if he couldn’t find him, then he’d clean up the rest of the city. Every single criminal, every threat. He’d bring them all down. 

His fists clenched as he moved through the night like a ghost.

Then, in the distance, he spotted a carjacker. Young. Inexperienced. Matt could tell by the way his heartbeat fluttered in his chest. He was panicked, nervous.

 Just a kid.

But all Matt could think about was Foggy. Driving alone at night with their baby in the backseat. What if this kid tried to break into her car? 

Foggy’s slowed heartbeat roared in his ears and her blood filled his nose again. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, Matt was on the carjacker in a flash. The kid barely had time to react before Matt’s fist slammed into his face, the sharp crack of bone against flesh ringing in his ears. The force sent the boy sprawling, his head bouncing off the pavement.

For a moment, Matt stood over him, chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists, ready to strike again. He wanted to. God, how he wanted to. The rage was burning hot in his chest, the same rage that had been simmering for days, and it was easy to imagine the kid was Poindexter. Easy to let the anger pour out, to release it all on someone who deserved it.

The kid coughed, choking out a “Sorry!” between ragged breaths, blood spilling from his mouth. “Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!”

Matt felt like a monster. 

But that was what he was now, wasn’t it? A monster. Every fight was starting to feel the same, just an outlet for his rage, a desperate attempt to feel something other than failure. The lines between right and wrong were blurring. He didn’t know if he even really cared anymore.

Instead of landing another punch, Matt dropped to one knee and pulled the kid up roughly by his collar, forcing him to sit up. The boy winced, blood trickling down his chin. Matt used the hem of the kid’s shirt to staunch the bleeding from his mouth. The boy flinched, but he didn’t stop.

“Listen to me,” Matt said, his voice low and grating with frustration. “You’re lucky it’s me you ran into and not someone worse.”

The kid nodded quickly, eyes wide and panicked, as if Matt were some kind of ticking time bomb. His heartbeat was so fast it made Matt’s head hurt. 

Matt exhaled heavily, disgusted with himself. “Get out of here! If I see you again, a split lip will be the least of your problems.”

The kid scrambled to his feet, his breath still ragged, and without another word, he bolted down the street, disappearing into the shadows.

Matt stood there for a long moment, listening to the kid’s retreating footsteps, his body stiff with anger and regret. He didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel anything but emptiness, like a part of him was gone. 

He sighed and ran back into the shadows. There was still a long night ahead. The hunt wasn’t over.

***

Matt moved through the apartment like a shadow, careful not to wake Foggy.

He stripped off his suit in the bathroom, hissing through his teeth as the material pulled against his tender skin. His entire body screamed in protest. His joints hurt. A bruise on his ribs from a crowbar pulsated under his fingers. The rib was probably broken. Cuts and scrapes littered his body.

He was fighting too much, reacting slower than usual. Everything felt jumbled. Even running across the rooftops was challenging. On his way home he’d nearly tripped and went over the ledge. 

There was a cut on his hip that kept opening up. He winced when he pulled off his pants and the sharp tang of his own blood hit his nose. He ripped some toilet paper off the roll and pressed it to the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding.

He felt unsteady on his feet, like he had a head cold and his equilibrium was off. He braced his hand against the sink, fighting a wave of nausea.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Food felt like an afterthought; a luxury he couldn’t afford. 

The blood slowed. He knew needed to call Claire, but he was scared she’d tell Foggy. 

Foggy couldn’t know. She’d get scared. Beg him to stop. But there was no stopping. Not until Poindexter was caught. Not until they were safe again. 

Once the wound clotted, he got into the shower, letting the warm water run over him. He pressed his forehead to the tile, letting the heat soak into his skin. The water felt almost too hot, but that didn't matter. He was still cold inside.

He wanted to wash it all away—the mistakes, the exhaustion, the frustration—but the water only brought temporary relief. It was like he was trying to clean his soul, and the dirt wouldn't come off.

When he finally got out, he slipped into his sweats. The fabric scratched against his skin, the sensation too sharp, too suffocating. He wanted to take it off, but he couldn’t risk Foggy seeing him.

He could feel every injury on his body, and knew he probably looked awful. Worse than  she’d probably ever seen him. 

Matt dragged himself to the couch, the ache in his chest intensifying as he remembered how upset she’d sounded today. That she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. 

If only she knew how much he missed her. He just wanted to curl up with her, to tell her everything. He wanted to say he was sorry, that he didn’t want to push her away. He wanted to explain that he loved her more than life itself, and that if destroying his body—his very soul—was the only way to keep them safe, then he’d do it. Every time.

Matt closed his eyes and pressed his hand to his chest, letting the sound of Foggy and the baby’s heartbeat from the next room lull him to sleep, offering him a brief moment of peace amidst the chaos.

This is for them, he reminded himself. You can handle this. It’s for them.

***

“Matt? Baby?”

Foggy’s hands were on his face. Matt shot up, gasping for air, his muscles screaming. Her heartbeat was pounding in his ears, frantic.

“I’m up,” he said, his voice hoarse. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She sat in front of him, and an awkward silence stretched between them. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He hated how easily he lied now. 

Her hands were shaking slightly when she spoke. “I…I don’t want to fight.”

Matt blinked, his heart clenching. “Me neither.”

“You’re just really scaring me.” Her voice wavered as she swallowed. “I know you’re under a lot of stress. But you’re pulling away, and I’m scared that it’s not just because of Poindexter.”

“Foggy—”

“Is it me? Is it the pregnancy?”

His hand shot out to grab hers, his thumb finding her ring. “No. God, no. I’m just tired.”

She sniffed, the sound breaking through him like a slap. “You’re not ‘just tired’. Something’s wrong. I know you. The way you walk, talk... your face. Something is off.”

“I—” He couldn’t think of a lie fast enough.

“I miss you.” Her voice cracked at the end, and Matt’s throat tightened like he was swallowing a boulder. His own feelings felt like they were drowning him.

“I miss you too.”

Foggy reached for him, desperate, her fingers trembling as they brushed against him. He turned, just enough to give her a half-hug. If she hit the broken rib or the cut on his hip she’d know. 

Her breath caught, and she jerked back slightly, her body stiffening. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin.  “What the hell, Matt?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You can’t even give me a hug? Why?” Her voice wavered. She waited, her eyes searching his face, desperate for something, anything. An answer, an explanation, the truth.

“I… I’m just tired. Sore.” He wasn’t lying, not really, but it wasn’t enough of the truth to really matter. 

Her breath hitched. “Sore?” She touched his arm lightly, like she was afraid he’d vanish if she pressed too hard. “Matt… are you hurt?”

He pulled his arm away before he could stop himself. “Just sore in general. I’ve just been out a lot lately. I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that.” Her voice sharpened. “Don’t push me away. I can tell something’s wrong. If you’re hurt, if you’re in pain, I need to know. Please.”

“I said I’m fine.” He snapped, sharper than he’d meant it to be. She drew away from him, her heartbeat stuttering. 

Silence fell. He wanted to say he was sorry but the words tangled in his throat. He was afraid if he started talking now he’d tell her everything. 

Because the truth was, he was hurt. Every  muscle, every bone, even his heart hurt.  All he wanted was her. He wanted her hold him, to wrap herself around him in their bed, to kiss everything better, to make it stop. To make it all stop. The noise, the pain, the gnawing guilt in his chest that he was a failure. 

God, he was so weak. He weak for wanting her, weak for needing her, weak for not being able to fix any of it, for failing her, for failing them.

Stick would be disgusted with him. He was disgusted in himself. 

Foggy let out a shaky breath, shaking her head as if she were holding herself together by a thread. Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood, the sound sharp as a warning shot, and Matt smelled salt. “Forget it.”

“Foggy, wait—” His voice cracked, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“I have to get ready for work,” she muttered, walking to the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated growl vibrating in his chest. 

She was right. What was he doing?

***

“Matt?”

“Huh?” Matt yawned from his desk. 

Karen stood above him, arms crossed. “Did you check out the warehouse last night?”

Shit. He’d completely forgotten.

“Um, yeah.” He stretched, using a yawn to cover his lie. “Didn’t see much.”

“Really?” Karen didn’t sound even slightly convinced. 

“Yeah.” He forced a half-hearted smile, but it was weak. “I can look again tonight when I run by there.”

Karen stood silent for a long moment, studying him. Then she sighed, “What’s going on?”

“What?” he asked, feigning confusion

“You’re not acting like yourself.”

He stiffened, his pulse quickening. He didn’t want to hear this right now. Not from her.

“You sound like Foggy.” His voice was tight. 

“And Foggy’s right.” Karen leaned forward, her voice gentler now. “Matt, I’m worried. You’ve been my friend for a long time. I know when something’s wrong.”

”Nothing’s wrong.” Matt replied. “I’m literally looking for a killer every night. I don't think anyone would be in a good mood.”

Karen sighed, not bothering to hide her frustration. “It’s not that. It’s everything else. She told me about you not sleeping in bed with her and avoiding her.”

His cheeks grew hot, but he didn’t say anything. 

“She gets what you’re trying to do. She really does. She can handle a lot, more than what most people can. But she needs you right now. She’s scared. She’s pregnant, she’s sick…”

Matt’s head snapped up. “What?”

Karen hesitated, but pressed on. “She’s been throwing up almost every day. She’s barely eating. Her OB is worried she’s losing too much weight. She’s on meds for it.”

Matt’s stomach lurched. “No, that…that can’t be right. She would’ve told me.”

Karen’s voice softened with pity, but her words cut deep. “Would she?”

“Yeah, she would’ve.” Matt said desperately. 

“Really? With how distant you’ve been?”

Matt swallowed hard, his hands curling into fists against the desk. He wanted to deny it, to push the words away, but the silence between them told him everything.

“Maybe take the night off,” Karen suggested gently. “Just… be together?”

He winced, the suggestion of time off feeling like something he couldn’t afford. He forced himself to nod. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Honestly, for the sake of your marriage, Matt, I’d really think about it.”

Matt swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on him. For a moment, his defenses cracked, just enough to let her in. “I’m trying. I know it doesn’t seem like it… but I really am. I just want her safe. She knows that. She knows how much I love her.”

Karen opened her mouth, as if to say more, but he cut her off.

“She knows.” Matt repeated, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than Karen. “She does.”

***

After talking with Karen, Matt walked into Foggy’s office.

He didn’t know what he was going to say or do. All he could think about was how she was so sick and not telling him. He just wanted to help her, to be close to her somehow. 

Her head was on her desk, her eyes shut, her breathing slow and heavy. She’d looked like she was in the middle of writing something before she’d fallen asleep.

Matt’s heart clenched. His poor girl. She was so tired. He could feel exhaustion rolling off of her. 

He had the urge to pick her up, take her home, pull off her clothes, dump them both in bed, and sleep for days. The thought was so tempting he nearly did it. 

Instead, Matt leaned down and pecked her cheek. 

“Baby?” He murmured, then kissed her again. Her skin was soft, and she smelled like ginger tea and her citrus shampoo and apples. Even with the slight scent of vomit and sweat clinging to her, he’d never smelled anything better. He kissed her two more times, on her cheek, then her temple. 

Her eyes fluttered open. Her heartbeat ticked up when she realized him before it settled back down. 

“Hi.” She mumbled. 

“Hi.” He said softly, running his finger lightly across her cheekbone. She smiled slightly under his touch. “How are you?”

“My tummy hurts.” She sounded so childlike. 

“I know. Karen told me.” He brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear and a burst of citrus filling his nose. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

“I want… Indian food.”

Matt crinkled his nose. “Indian food? Are you serious?”

“Uh-huh.” She sighed. “I just want a stack of naan bread.”

“I’ll order you a box of naan.” He smiled. “A truckload of naan.”

“Matt.” She lifted her head to look at him, her fingers lightly tugging on his jacket. “I want naan bread, some vanilla ice cream, and I want you to stay home tonight.”

He froze, his stomach twisting. “I— you know I can’t. There's something I need to check.”

He felt her whole body tense, “Please.”

 “I’m sorry. I’ll be careful, baby. I promise.” 

“Matt, when do I ever ask you to stay?”

She never did, and that only made him feel worse.

“I need you tonight. Please… just stay. For me.” Her grip tightened, pleading.

Matt’s jaw clenched. He could do it. Pick her up, take her home, love her the way he’d been wanting to for weeks. 

But he couldn’t. Not when the threat was still out there. Not when his body was so cut up he’d be able to smell her fear when she saw him.  “I can’t. Not tonight. I have to—”

Foggy’s shoulders slumped. She let go of him,  burying her face in her arms on the desk. “Just forget it.”

Guilt slammed into him like a punch. “Foggy.” His voice was low, strained. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise—”

“Just go, Matt.” Her arms were tight over her head.

“Baby—”

“Please.” She sniffed, voice small and breaking. “Just go.”

For the sake of your marriage. Karen’s voice haunted him. 

“I’m sorry. Just a little bit longer, okay?” Matt promised, but she felt so far from him he might as well have been yelling into a chasm. 

***

That night Matt padded quietly into the apartment, every step calculated, every breath measured. Pain lanced through his ribs and shoulder, but he ignored it. He slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, pressing his hands against fresh cuts and bruises. 

The cut on his arm was deep, blood dripping down his side and onto the floor.

Stupid, he thought. So stupid. 

He’d run into a few guys roughing up a sex worker. It should have been a routine fight, but everything about him felt off. Sluggish. He was misjudging distances, reacting more slowly. It was taking more energy just to function, let alone fight.

He was just so tired. He  normally would’ve seen that knife from a mile away, but a freaking drunk guy caught him by surprise. 

So stupid. So weak. You need to focus. 

He pulled out the first-aid kit  and took out the suturing kit. He didn't normally do this. Even with his heightened senses, it was hard for him to get the stitching right. Foggy had sat with Claire and learned how to stitch, getting surprisingly good at it. She'd taken over stitching his small cuts. 

This one definitely wasn’t small. It was deep, and long.  It needed two people, but he was on his own. 

The needle bit into his skin as he stitched the wound himself. He winced with each pull, but the sharp, focused pain was a welcomed distraction from everything else.

Outside, he heard Foggy’s voice. “Matt?”

He froze, needle in his teeth, blood rolling down his arm and chin, hands trembling. “Yeah?”

“Matt...” Her voice was weak. “Let me in. I’m gonna puke.”

His chest tightened. Not now. She’d see. “Hang on.”

“I’m serious—”

“I said hang on!” he nearly snarled. Immediately, regret stabbed him. 

God, she’s scared. She’s sick. I didn’t mean that.

He heard her sniffle, tiny and fragile. Then she bolted to the kitchen. The metallic smell hit him before he even heard it, and his heart sank.

She was vomiting into the kitchen sink. 

He pressed his hands to his face, his stomach flipping as he listened to her heave. He could smell her vomit, his own blood, their sweat. He gagged. It took everything in him to fight his own urge to vomit, which only made him more ashamed.

I should be there. She’s having our baby for God’s sake. I should be helping her. 

Tears filled his eyes as he swallowed. 

You’re failing. Can’t catch Poindexter. Can’t help your wife. What kind of man are you? 

When he was finished closing the wound, he pulled his sweats back on and finally opened  the bathroom door. Foggy was still leaning over the sink, shaking. 

He thought of Karen’s words earlier: She’s barely eating, she’s throwing up almost every day… she’s on meds for it.

“Baby, let me help,” he said, moving towards her. “I can get you water, a towel—”

“Leave me alone.” She was crying, and it tore right through him. 

“Foggy.” He reached for her. 

“Just leave me alone!” She shoved his hand away, her voice breaking. 

He froze, shame twisting his stomach. He’d wanted to do something, God, anything to take care of her, and she was shutting him out.

Not that he blamed her. 

He swallowed hard, stepping back. “Okay…okay. I’m sorry.”

She gave a faint, muffled groan, still pressed against the sink. Matt lingered for a heartbeat longer, listening to her, wishing he could take it all away. Then, quietly, he backed toward the doorway, heart heavy, guilt clawing at him.

When she finally straightened, wiping at her face, she didn’t look at him. She moved past him like he was just another piece of furniture in the room. 

Without a word, she climbed into bed and curled beneath the blankets, her face turned toward the wall. A physical shut out. 

“Are you okay?” He asked softly from the doorway. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry—.”

“Just go to bed, Matt.” She sounded distant and hollow. Dismissive. She pulled the blankets over her head. 

Matt stood there, hands flickering helplessly at his sides. He wanted to crawl in next to her, to apologize, to let her know he loved her, but he couldn’t. 

Once this is over, I’ll make it right. She’ll understand. She’ll forgive me. She’ll know I never stopped loving her.

Exhaustion pressed down on him, bone-deep and relentless. He’d been stabbed, barely eaten, barely slept, hunting shadows in every dark corner of Hell’s Kitchen. Every muscle ached, his arm screamed, his ribs throbbed with every breath, his knuckles pulsated painfully, and his hands shook slightly from the small cuts along his forearms. His body was a roadmap of pain, his mind frayed and pulled thin like a thread about to snap.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew his limits. He couldn’t go on like this without rest.

But how could he rest? Everything felt even more urgent. He had to find him as soon as possible or now his marriage was going to fall apart. 

Foggy’s breaths grew slow and steady; she was asleep. He itched to touch her. To pull her to him, to feel her heartbeat against his chest, to let her warmth chase away the cold that had settled deep in his bones. He longed for her to hold him, to soothe him, to make it all stop, even if just for a little while.

He needed it like air. 

Fuck it.

Just an hour. Two at most. He needed a few hours in his own bed, without the scratch of sweats against bruised skin, without the world pressing in. A few hours of sleep next to his wife. Then he'd feel better. Then he could fight again. 

Matt stripped off his clothes, wincing slightly at the sting of fresh bruises and the cut on his shoulder. He climbed in beside her, sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Silk sheets, and they smelled like him and Foggy. He forgot how much he missed their bed.

Even with the space between them, he could feel her warmth, hear her and their baby’s heartbeat so loudly it almost blocked out everything else. 

It was heaven. 

Just a little rest. Just an hour. Then he’d rise before her, dress, and go back to being what the city demanded, what she deserved, what he couldn’t stop trying to be.

Chapter Text

For the first time in weeks, Matt was asleep in their bed.

They had reached for each other in their sleep, like their bodies desperate for some sort of physical contact. His hand rested on the curve of Foggy’s hip while her foot pressed against his leg.

Foggy stirred, the weight of his hand and the warmth of his body pulling her from sleep. She lay there, still, careful not to move too fast.

One, because sudden movement might make her puke, and two, because Matt was actually here, in bed.

He must have felt guilty about last night and had climbed in while she slept.

Her first reaction was anger. She was so mad that he had neglected her, mad that he had left her to throw up in the kitchen sink, mad that he had barely tried to comfort her afterwards. Foggy wanted to pull away,  to shove him off the bed, to smack him in the face with a pillow. Maybe dump the cup of water on the nightstand over his head. 

And yet, when she turned slightly and heard his slow, steady breathing, saw the outline of his body in the dark morning light, her anger softened.

It was strange to wake before him. Usually, his senses roused him first. She rarely got to just watch him sleep. A lump formed in her throat as she thought of how much she missed him. She missed his presence, the way his arms always found her, even after nights when he was Daredevil. 

She just wanted her Matt back.

They’d have to get up for work soon. Maybe they could actually talk some things out this morning. Or fight more.

But hey, talking about  something would be better than nothing. 

Sighing, Foggy reached over and turned on the lamp. The dim light spilled across him, and what she saw nearly made her topple out of bed. 

Matt’s eyes were shut, his jaw slack, like he was passed out instead of sleeping. Dark circles under his eyes told the story of sleepless nights. His lip was newly split, caked with dried blood.

Foggy’s chest tightened as she leaned closer, shakily pulling the sheet away from him, each breath heavy with dread.

He was naked so she saw every inch. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes marred his skin. Some were stitched haphazardly, others just held together by cheap bandages. Her hand trembled as she reached out, running her fingers lightly over a new cut on his arm. It wasn’t stitched together by Claire’s precise handiwork. No, these were rushed, done in desperation or exhaustion. His ribs looked like she could count every single one, and they bore signs of a fight that looked like it could’ve killed him. 

She stifled the urge to gag, the reality of the situation sinking in.

He had lied to her. Again.

He’d told her he wasn't hurt. Just sore, tired, looking for Poindexter.

But this wasn’t one night of overexertion. This was the accumulation of weeks of pushing himself too far. She saw it now: why he was sleeping on the couch, dressing before she woke up, why he wouldn’t even let her hug him. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to wake her or he was too tired or he wasn’t attracted to her. 

It was that he didn’t want her to see how badly he was getting hurt.

Foggy wished now that it was the other things. Not this. She knew him well enough that his destroyed body was his sick, silent devotion to her. An apology, a promise she didn’t want. 

Foggy’s fingers lingered on his skin, and she swallowed the knot of anger and guilt that rose in her throat. 

How had she not seen? She was his wife, his best friend. He looked like a patchwork quilt and she’d had no idea. What kind of partner was she? 

A sob caught in her throat as she rolled away from him, screwing her eyes shut and  biting down on her knuckles to keep the tears at bay. She wrapped one arm around her stomach, where their baby grew, a sickening realization filling her. 

Matt was going to die if he kept this up. 

Worse thoughts filled her head.  

What if this never stopped? What if Poindexter was just the beginning of Matt’s obsessions? What if this was like an addiction, and he always found a new threat? Would this be his life—their life—for good? What would he do when the baby was here? Keep throwing himself into danger? Risking his life when he should be raising one with her?

He was disappearing right in front of her, and she needed him. For her. For their child. 

And he desperately needed her. But she was so scared he  wouldn’t let her help him. 

She let out a sob. 

No. Stop it. Help him.

Through her sniffling, Foggy went to the bathroom and grabbed the antiseptic ointment from their first aid kit. She nearly gagged when she saw the needle and thread inside, his blood dried on them.

God, how had she missed this? 

She walked back to his side, her hands shaking as she sat beside him. Shaking, she ran her fingers through his hair, down his jaw, his nose. 

“Oh, Matt.” She whispered brokenly. 

She gently dabbed ointment on his cuts. He didn’t even move. Each touch was a reminder of how little she had been able to do, of how much pain he’d been hiding from her. She worked slowly, carefully, as though the act of helping him would somehow make it better.

It didn’t.

“You’re okay, baby.” She whimpered, more to herself than to him. “You’re gonna be okay.”

She’d cried through the whole thing. When she was done, she covered him with the blanket, but the tears wouldn’t stop. One landed on his cheek, and she brushed it away. 

“You’re okay. I’m right here.” She leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

Matt, the man who could hear a pin drop from two rooms away, was so exhausted that he didn’t even stir.

***

The first thing Matt registered was pain. His whole body throbbed, every breath tugged at his ribs. He knew he was in his bed, and instinctively reached for Foggy. 

Cold sheets. No Foggy smell.

His pulse spiked.

“Foggy?” he rasped. Nothing. No heartbeat, no movement in the apartment.

Matt shot upright despite the fire in his muscles. “Foggy!” His voice cracked. Silence.

Oh God, please. His chest was tight with panic as every threat imaginable ran through his mind.

Poindexter. A mugger. Foggy falling down the stairs. A bomb planted in the firm. 

It happened while he was sleeping. Why did he sleep?

He fumbled for his phone desperately. “Call Foggy.”

It rang for what felt like an eternity. 

“Hello?”

Her voice. It sounded like the sky cracked open and angels started singing. He was so relieved he fell on the edge of the bed. 

“Hey. I didn’t know where you were.”

There was a beat of silence on the line.

“Work,” she said, voice flat, almost detached. “It’s 12:30.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because you looked like a fucking corpse, Matt.” The words cut through him like a blade. 

His stomach dropped. His hand subconsciously ran over the fresh cut on his arm.

She’d seen. She’d seen it all. 

“Foggy, I—”

She cut him off. “Look, I’ve got back-to-back meetings, a million emails, and I’m eighty-five percent sure there are ants in the office kitchenette. I gotta go.”

He could hear the strain in her voice. She was holding it together, but just barely.

Matt’s voice cracked as he struggled to stand. “I’ll come in—”

“No, you won’t!” Her voice raised, frustrated and exhausted. “Just stay home and sleep! Please! So I don’t have to worry about you for five minutes.” Her breath hitched, and he could hear her fight against her tears.“There’s leftovers in the fridge, please eat for God’s sake. I can see your ribs.”

His heart clenched, guilt flooding him. “But you shouldn’t have to do all that yourself. You’re pregnant—”

She laughed hollowly. “What else is new? Pregnant or not, what else is fucking new these days?”

He felt that one like a slap.
“Foggy—”

“We’ll talk when I get home,” she snapped, voice trembling. “I gotta go. Please, Matt. If you love me at all, you’ll stay right there and wait for me.”

Matt felt sick, and his chest constricted. “I do love you—”

The line went dead before he could finish.

Matt sat on the bed, listening to the dial tone, the emptiness of the apartment surrounding him. He wanted to say more, to call her back, but all that was left was the ache in his chest.

He groaned, running his hand through his hair. He finally laid back down and closed his eyes, trying to block out the ache in his ribs, the pounding in his skull, the aches that littered his body. 

She doesn’t understand, he thought, voice tight in his own head. I’m keeping them safe. That’s all that matters.

His mind raced through everything he’d done in the past few days. Every chase, every fight, every shadow he’d tracked, every bullet he’d dodged. He counted them like tally marks in his head. For a fleeting moment, the number scared him. 

He’d been doing this a long time. He knew what was sustainable. This wasn’t. 

I can handle this, he told himself, shoving it down. He was her husband. He was going to be a father. He had to handle this. 

Once I catch him and  I know they’re okay… then I can rest. Then I can make it right with her. 

If you love me at all…Foggy’s voice rang in his ears. 

Matt winced. I do love you. He wanted to scream. Look at me. Isn’t it obvious? You know that. You have to. 

Matt shut his eyes, but he couldn’t drown out the sounds of the city screaming outside, the sounds that never stopped. The city that never let him stop. 

I can handle this. He repeated it to himself over and over again. I can. 

***

That evening Foggy came through the apartment door, slamming her bag onto the counter and tossing her coat off onto a chair. 

“Hey.” Matt’s voice was quiet from the couch, careful. “How was your day?”

“Peachy.” She spit out, toeing off her flats. She was exhausted, angry, and nauseous. 

“Long day?” He asked, standing. 

“It’s been a long day for a long time.” She went to the fridge, looked inside, and felt a wave of nausea hit her. She covered her mouth and choked down a gag. 

She slammed the fridge door shut and grabbed a back of saltines from the cabinet, ripping open the package with more force than necessary.

“You feeling sick?” Matt asked gently. 

She laughed bitterly, shoving a cracker into her mouth. “Yeah, I’m still sick. All the time. Couldn’t you tell after you made me puke in our kitchen sink?” She chewed it, glaring at him. “Or if that wasn't obvious enough, you’d know if you came to our appointment or were ever here.”

He looked pained. “Foggy—.”

“Matt,” she said, voice tight with anger and fear, “what are you doing to yourself?”

Matt didn’t speak for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

“I’m protecting us.”

“Protecting us?” she echoed, incredulous. “Matt, look at yourself!”

“This looks worse than what it is.” He muttered. 

“You look like Frankenstein!” Foggy’s voice wavered, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I thought  you were freaking out about the baby, but then I see you…” she gestured to him in horror,  “and you’re shredded to bits! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m fine, baby.” His voice sounded tired, hollow. “I’ve been injured before.”

“No! This is not the same!” She covered her face, struggling not to break down completely. “I should know when you’re hurt like this! How does this even happen? I’m your wife and you're supposed to be my husband!”

“I am your husband.” he said, voice strained, stepping closer like he wanted to touch her.

“Then why are you doing this?” She shot back, hands on her hips. “You’re destroying yourself by doing this alone, and for what? We’re supposed to be a team! When we decided to give this a shot, you promised me you wouldn’t lie to me about anything, even Daredevil! I trusted you, and you’ve been lying to me! “

“I’m just trying to figure this out before the baby comes.” Matt explained. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry? Are you serious? All I do is worry! I’m fucking exhausted!” Foggy exploded. “I sorry about you, the baby, the firm! Now I have to worry that you’re going to get killed and I’ll have to raise our baby alone!”

Matt’s voice was low and sharp as he responded, the frustration in his chest breaking through. “You knew about as a  Daredevil when we got married. You’ve known about it for years.”

“I know that, and I accepted that!” Foggy shouted. “But this isn't about you being Daredevil! This is about you using it to justify what you’re doing!”

“Justify what? Wanting to keep my wife and baby safe?” Matt snapped, stepping towards her. “You two almost died, Foggy!”

“I’m the one who got shot Matt! Me! And I have to deal with that every day but it doesn’t get to be your excuse!”

“Excuse?” Matt nostrils flared, his voice rising. “You think I’m doing this as an excuse to suit up? I’m doing this to make sure that you’re both safe!”

Foggy laughed hollowly, shaking her head. “You’re so obsessed with being in control that you can’t even let me help you! Maybe you like that you get to carry all the danger yourself, like some martyr!”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his voice erupting. “I’m not doing this for fun Foggy! I am doing this for you because I love you! Because you and our baby almost died! Everything I do is for you! How dare you suggest otherwise?” 

“Getting yourself killed is not “for us” Matt!” Foggy shouted, her hands slapping the counter. “What happens if you die? What will we do then? I need you! The baby needs you! Not Daredevil!”

“Daredevil can do things Matt Murdock can’t!”

“Daredevil can’t be a husband or a father! That’s Matt Murdock’s job, and right now, you’re not fucking doing it!” She shrieked, her voice breaking as if the words themselves were too much to bear.

Matt paled and stepped back as if she’d slapped him. He stood there, stunned, until his face twisted into a mix of anger and hurt.

“I’m not doing my job?” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “I’m out there bleeding every damn night—for you! For us! I’m killing myself to keep you both safe, and this is how you repay me? You stand there and tell me I’m not good enough? How the hell can you even say that?”

“You are good enough! That's the point!” Foggy covered her face with her hands, her voice trembling. “Why can’t you just let me in? Why would you rather kill yourself than let me help you?”

Matt’s voice was tight with desperation. “Because I can’t risk losing you! Because if I do, it will fucking kill me! Do you understand?”

Foggy’s tears flowed freely now, her face flushed with anger and pain. “Look at you! You’re already dying, Matt! You don’t think it’s the same for me? You think it won’t kill me if you die? I want to do this together! I always have! I’ve known you for over ten years and you still, somehow, no matter what I do, keep finding ways to push me away!”

“That’s not true! I trust you more than anyone!” he shouted, his voice raw, almost breaking under the strain.

“Then trust me now, as your wife, your partner and stop this! Let me help you!” 

“I can’t stop!”

“Matt, listen to me. Our life, our future, it’s slipping away right in front of us! Do you even care? You’re going to die, and I’ll be the one telling our kid their dad died in some stupid costume instead of fighting to be with us!”

Matt’s face twisted with frustration. “Better that than you being dead.” His words were sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

Foggy froze. Her chest tightened. She wanted to lash out, to scream at him, but the weight of his words held her still. “Matt…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re breaking my heart. I don’t know how to do this with you…”

“I’m not asking you to understand it.” he growled. “I’m telling you why. I’m doing it for us, for you.  I love you, and I’ll do anything to make sure you stay alive. Even if it kills me!” 

He wanted to stop, but the words fell out anyway, cruel and desperate. “You knew what I was. You promised me for better or for worse. Guess what, Foggy? This is fucking it.”

His words hung in the air like a cloud of smoke, heavy and suffocating. 

“Don’t… don’t you dare throw our vows back in my face like some sick ultimatum.” She spit back at him. “You wanna talk about promises? You promised me that we were one flesh, in this together. You promised me faithfulness, and you lied. You promised me until death do us part, and you’re throwing your life away. So who’s really not fulfilling their vows?”

The words hit Matt like a punch to the gut. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t answer. Her accusation cut deeper than any physical wound ever could. She was cutting to his very core, questioning his promise he’d made to her before God.

“I’d die for you.” He said, his voice hollow. “How can that not be enough?”

Foggy’s chest ached, and she swallowed down a sob. “I know you’d die for me, Matt. I’ve always known that, and that's the worst part because I don’t want that. I just want you.”

They stood in silence for a long time before Foggy spoke again. 

“I can’t build a life with a ghost and you’re making me. Why?”

Matt stood there, chest heaving, his anger draining away like water running through his fingers. He felt small, defeated. 

Foggy hiccuped and wiped her eyes. “I…I need some space.” 

Her hands trembled as she shoved past him, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Matt stood there, frozen. He could hear collapse only the bed, sobbing. Even muffled by the pillow it sounded like an earthquake to him; desperate, racking sobs that tore at him from the inside out.

He wanted to go to her, hold her, apologize. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. Didn’t know how to make her see that he was only trying to protect them. That this was the only way he knew how to keep them safe.

But a smaller, weaker part of him—one he refused to acknowledge, even to himself—wanted to go to her and break down. To tell her that he would die for her and their baby a hundred times over, but the truth was, he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be a martyr. He wanted a life with them, a real one, the one he dreamed of having as a kid but didn’t think he’d get to have. 

Matt had spent so long convincing himself that his purpose was to protect others at any cost, even at the cost of his own happiness. 

He just didn’t count on how much he didn’t want to lose his happiness now that he’d found it. 

He walked up to the bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn it. The weight of his failures pressed down on him like an anchor, pulling him further away from the woman he loved. With a long, exhausted sigh, he stepped back and collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“I’ll fix this,” he whispered to himself, voice barely more than a rasp. “I will. She knows I love her. I just… I need to figure this out first. Just need to keep her safe, then... then I can fix everything.”

But his words felt hollow. Even in his mind, the promise sounded distant, like a desperate plea to make sense of a world he couldn’t control. 

Maybe she wouldn’t even believe him anymore. Maybe it was too late. His chest ached at the thought, but he pushed it down, like he always did.

“I’ll fix this.”

But the words were a lie he told himself every time it all fell apart.

Chapter Text

“I need another shot, Karen.”

Foggy and Karen were laying side by side on the floor of Karen’s apartment, staring up at the ceiling. 

Karen reached over, grabbed a can of whipped cream, and sprayed a wad of it into Foggy’s mouth. Foggy swallowed it and tried her best not to cry. 

“Thanks. Forget tequila. This is what really takes the edge off.” She sighed. 

Karen smiled faintly. “Classy as always.”

Foggy smiled but then it slipped. “You know, 50% of marriages end in divorce. I bet the vigilante divorce rate is higher. So by my calculations, Matt and I have like a 8.7% chance of making it.”

Karen let out a short laugh, then saw Foggy’s face. “Jesus. That’s pretty pessimistic.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t see Franken-Matt. Or hear what he said.” Foggy blinked fast, tears threatening. “How could I have not seen it?”

“Don’t beat yourself up.” Karen said softly. “He’s like, the king of secrets.”

“But I thought that was done. I  thought… I knew what I was signing up for. I’ve known about Daredevil for years. I thought I could handle the injuries, the risks, and the absences. But that…seeing him hurt like that and still insisting he’s fine…” Foggy’s voice cracked. “It was like talking to an addict.”

She pressed her palms to her face, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m so scared I’m going to lose him.  I…I can’t raise the baby with him being like this, and I’m scared he’s going to die. Either way, if things don’t change I’ll have to do this alone.”

The words hung between them. Karen shifted closer, brushing Foggy’s arm.

“Why did you marry Matt?”

Foggy peeked at her from behind her hands. “What?”

“I’m serious. Tell me exactly why you married Matt Murdock, knowing he was Daredevil. Knowing he was a self-sacrificing mess. Make a list.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” 

Foggy laid there for a while before she let out a shaky laugh. “Okay. Why did I marry Matt Murdock, even when I knew he was a mess? Well…he’s kind. Patient. Funny, even when he’s broody. Fantastic lawyer. He’s handsome and knows it, which is less irritating than what it sounds like. And the heightened senses thing is like…crazy in bed—”

Karen covered her ears. “Nope. Nope. Did not need to know that.”

“Too late,” Foggy said, smirking through her tears. “Anyway, he…he knows me. He knows I like three sugars in my coffee even though I always order two.  He’ll send food back for me if I don’t want it, but never for himself. He’s affectionate, even though I’m sure he didn’t get a proper hug until college. He…he cares so much. Once in college he almost missed a deadline because I had the flu and he was taking care of me. He is always trying to take care of me.”

Her smile faltered, voice softening. “He’s been my best friend since I was nineteen. He always made me feel seen, no pun intended.” She laughed before continuing. “He would take a bullet for me. Hell, he would for anyone. Because he believes in doing the right thing, even when it’s hard. Even when it costs him. I… I married him because I believe in him, in his heart. I always have.”

She wiped her eyes, her voice breaking. “I married him because I feel like I can’t breathe right without him. I love him so much it hurts, and I still do right now when it really fucking hurts.  God, Karen, there’s so, so much good stuff. Just right now there’s this one really big thing that I’m scared is gonna do us in.”

“Foggy…you know he’s scared too, right? He’s about to be a dad. He’s already carrying the weight of half the city on his shoulders, he’s definitely got PTSD, he’s trying to find Poindexter. He loves you—.”

“He loves me too much, and not enough at the same time.” Foggy choked out. 

“Oh Foggy.” Karen reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. Her voice was soft, but steady. “We both know he’s screwing up in typical Matt fashion, caring so much it seems like he doesn’t care at all. But he is right about one thing.”

Karen turned her head towards Foggy. “You did get married, Foggy. For better or for worse—that’s the deal. And yeah, right now? This is definitely one of the worse parts. But you know what I think?” She gave Foggy’s hand a squeeze, firmer this time. “I don’t think the better parts are gone forever. I think they will come back. You gotta believe that.”

That possibility seemed so far now. But Karen’s words struck a cord in her. Maybe all the good stuff ready could come back. 

“Yeah… I hope so. I really do.” 

“Besides,” Karen shook her head. “If you get divorced one of you is moving in with me, and I can’t decide what’s worse— a postpartum mom with a new baby or a depressed vigilante.”

Foggy let out a wet laugh, swiping at her eyes. “Guess we better stay married then.”

Karen smirked. “Exactly. For my sake.” She reached for the whipped cream can again, shaking it with mock gravity. “Now, do you want another shot, or should I?”

Foggy opened her mouth wide. “Hit me.”

Karen obliged. Foggy swallowed it. They laid there for a while, Foggy rolling Karen’s words around in her head. 

She was still so mad at Matt. Furious. Heartbroken. Questioning their marriage. But she didn’t want to be done with him. Getting rid of Matt would be akin to getting rid of an arm or leg. Or cutting her heart out of her chest.

Screw this. She was his wife. If he needed her to drag his dumbass back from the abyss, she would. If he was willing, even a little, she could do it. 

But how?

Suddenly, Foggy sat up abruptly. 

“Wanna do something crazy?” she asked. 

“We are always doing something crazy around here, but sure. What are you thinking?”

“Stake out Red Hook ourselves.”

Karen scoffed. “You’re hilarious.”

“Karen, I’m serious.”

Karen sat up, searching her face. When she realized she wasn’t kidding, she gawked at her. “Are you out of your mind? Do you have pregnancy brain?” 

Foggy stared at her, her gaze unwavering. 

“No. No way. Foggy, Matt will kill me. And then he’ll resurrect me just to kill me again.”

“He’s drowning in his own head. If we sit around waiting for him, it’ll be too late. Either Poindexter is going to come after us again, we get another hit on us, or…” she swallowed thickly, “or we’ll lose him another way. We have to try.”

“You’re pregnant, Foggy. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear myself just fine.” Foggy snapped back. “I also hear the clock ticking. If I don’t do something, I’m going to lose my husband before this baby even gets here. And I won’t.”

“Foggy—.”

“I will not bury Matt, Karen. So you can either come with me or I’m going alone.”

Karen stared at her for a beat, then groaned, letting her head fall into her hands. After a few moments she sighed in resignation. “Alright, Foggy Murdock. Let’s go catch some bad guys.”

***

The docks at Red Hook smelled like rust, gasoline, and the faint tang of dead fish. It was just strong enough to where Foggy felt like she needed to puke. Instead, she swallowed it down and pulled her jacket tighter around her, glaring at the shadows stretching out between the warehouses.

“This is insane,” Karen muttered, shoving her hands in her pockets. 

“Insane would be sitting at home doing nothing.” Foggy shot back, scanning the street. Her pulse was already hammering in her ears. “This is…proactive insanity.”

“Your husband is rubbing off on you.”

Foggy elbowed her playfully. “Oh come on, Karen. Don’t act like you didn’t either. You both are the definition of, ‘let’s do some crazy shit and hope for the best’.”

“Which is why we need you to keep us in check.” Karen elbowed her back.

“Well, not anymore. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Even if that means freezing my pregnant ass off behind a smelly dumpster.”

Karen glanced at her, mouth tightening. “You shouldn’t even be out here, Foggy. Matt is going to lose his mind.”

“Well he doesn’t have to know unless we find something, now does he?” Foggy lowered her voice. “Come on, you’re the best investigator in Hell’s Kitchen. This is light work for you.”

“If that’s the case then we’re doing this my way.” Karen pointed at her. “We stick to the shadows and just take photos. No heroics, no following people into alleys, and if anything smells off we call Matt and tell him to get down here.”

“Aye aye, Private Eye.”

“And if you fall or get hurt—.”

“Then you’ll carry me all the way back to your place and get to say ‘I told you so’ until the day I die. Let’s just do this.” Foggy’s hand went to her pocket. She froze, then checked the other. “Shit. You’re gonna kill me.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I forgot my phone at your place.”

Karen made a noise that was half-laugh, half-protest. “That’s a sign. This is a bad idea.”

“No! Come on! We’re already all the way down here! We’ll just use yours.” She squeezed her arm. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Karen groaned but nodded. “Fine. But this is officially the dumbest thing I’ve ever agreed to do. Come on.”

The two women speed-walked down the street before cutting into an alley adjacent to their destination. 

The warehouse was near, right off of the water. While the others appeared relatively normal, this one had a newly installed chain link fence, lights, and they could hear the steady hum of voices and truck engines up ahead.

They crouched low behind a dumpster, the metal slick with condensation. The smell of oil and fish clung to the air.

Foggy shuddered, trying not to gag. Karen shot her a look. “You okay?”

“Never better. Nothing settles the stomach quite like dock dumpster,” Foggy muttered, her teeth clenched.

Karen’s eyes scanned the warehouse. “I could climb the fire escape, get to the roof.”

“And risk you breaking your neck? No way, Karedevil. We stick together and have fast getaway if needed. I’ll be fine.”

Karen gave a reluctant nod. Both peeked around the dumpster, eyes locked on the building.

An unmarked truck rolled up, its tires crunching over the gravel. A man in black stepped out. More followed, their voices low but carrying through the night.

“Gotta get this out tonight,” one said. “Boss is pissed it’s late.”

“I got it,” the driver snapped back. “The client knows. They’ll be there at pickup.”

Karen zoomed in with her phone, snapping photos. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“What?” Foggy hissed.

“They’re armed. All of them. That guy’s packing a semi-automatic.”

Two men went inside, then reemerged carrying a flat wooden box. Each gripped a side like it was a bomb, moving with painstaking care. They loaded it into the truck as though it could explode at the slightest jostle.

“What is that?” Foggy whispered.

Karen raised a finger, silencing her, and kept snapping photos.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for a whole bunch of lines.” One of the men quipped.

Lines? Karen and Foggy shot each there a look. What did he mean by lines?

“It’s an Agnes Martin, dumbass.” The driver barked. “All those “lines” are all worth a lot of money. Don’t screw around.” 

“Who’s Agnes Martin?” Karen muttered. 

“No clue.” Foggy whispered back. 

More boxes were carried out, each handled with the same meticulous precision. The men exchanged a few quick words before the driver climbed into the truck and started the engine.

“Get the plate, Karen! The plate!” Foggy hissed.

Karen nodded, sliding out just enough from behind the dumpster to snap photos of the van and its license plate.

“Hey!” A sharp voice rang out from the street. “Who’s out there?”

“Run!” Foggy grabbed Karen’s arm, and they bolted down the alley.

A distant crack of gunfire echoed behind them. It was muffled, distant, but sharp enough to make them both flinch. Adrenaline surged, and their lungs burned as they sprinted.

Finally, when they felt they were far enough, they slowed, collapsing against the side of a building. Chests heaving, hands pressed to knees, they tried to catch their breath.

“Do you…think…they…saw us?” Karen gasped.

“I…don’t think…we’re being…followed,” Foggy said between coughs, her hands still trembling.

“They weren’t…shooting at us…right?”

Foggy shook her head. “Don’t think so.”

Once they both relaxed enough, Karen pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her photos. 

“We’ll head back to my place, check the plate.” Karen said. 

“And figure out who Agnes Martin is.” Foggy shivered. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

***

Checking out the warehouse was the first part of Matt’s apology. 

He had sat outside of their bedroom door, waiting for Foggy until he’d felt like he couldn’t wait any longer to go out. 

He’d slipped his suit on over his aching body, wincing. When he was putting on his mask, Foggy opened the door just a crack. 

“I’m staying at Karen’s.” She’d snapped, then slammed the door shut. 

Matt decided the best way to fix this was to check out the warehouse and talk to Foggy again in the morning. Hopefully he’d find something and she’d at least hear him out about that. Then he’d segue into an apology of some sort. 

He really did feel awful. They hadn’t had a fight quite like this since before they were dating. One was when she’d found out he was Daredevil, and the second was when she’d found out he’d been seeing Elektra during the Castle case. 

This fight was worse than both of those combined. This fight felt like it was shaking the foundation of their marriage. 

He had to find Poindexter. End this. If it took too long their entire relationship was at risk. 

But first tonight, he would check out the warehouse. Show Foggy that he was at least trying to listen to her. 

He leapt across the rooftops, his legs burning. The extra sleep she’d forced on him helped clear his mind a bit, but his body was still groaning with each step. 

He wasn’t 100%. Not even close. But he couldn’t stop. 

Matt landed with a soft thud on the warehouse fire escape, before jumping down. His feet hit the concrete lightly, but his knee groaned on impact.

Jesus, he was falling apart. 

He crouched low, the damp air around the docks thick with diesel fumes and salt. Beneath it, the hum of truck engines vibrated through the pavement. He tilted his head, trying to separate the layers of sound, but they smeared together like wet paint. His equilibrium still was off.

Damn it. You’re slipping. Focus.

Matt pressed his hand to the concrete wall, grounding himself. He could feel the vibration of footsteps—three, no, four men—moving toward the back of the warehouse. 

Another pair of heartbeats thudded farther off, one fast and light, the other slower, steadier. Too far to identify, but something about them tugged at the edge of recognition. 

Foggy?

No, it couldn’t be. Foggy was safe at Karen’s. He just missed her, and as all. 

He edged closer, filtering through the noise until a voice rose above the others.

“We gotta get this shit out tonight it Fisk’ll lose it.”

Matt froze. The name hit him like a punch. 

Fisk.

He’d told Foggy it couldn’t be. He’d promised her the Kingpin wasn’t behind any of this, that he’d know if Fisk was moving again.

But here it was. Proof.

A spike of dread cut through the fog in his mind. 

He was wrong. 

He took a step forward, listening harder, needing to be sure. 

Hey!” A sharp voice rang out from the street. “Who’s out there?”

Fuck. 

Matt dropped instinctively, rolling behind a stack of rotting pallets as footsteps pounded toward him.

“I heard something!” one of them barked.

Four heartbeats. Too close. 

Matt shifted his weight, counting their steps, waiting for the nearest to break formation. 

The moment he heard the scrape of a boot turning, he lunged. His baton cracked across the man’s wrist, and the gun clattered to the ground. Matt followed with a sharp knee to the ribs, spinning him into the wall.

The second came in fast, knife flashing. Matt ducked under the swing, caught the man’s arm, and twisted until he felt the bone strain. The knife dropped. He drove an elbow into the man’s temple, sending him collapsing into the first.

Unexpected pain flared behind Matt’s eyes, like the start of a migraine. His balance wobbled.

He heard the next man’s breathing too late, and the punch caught him across the jaw, sending his ears ringing. He staggered back, blocked another blow, barely. His arms felt heavy, sluggish.

Focus. You’re slipping.

They were spreading out now, boots scraping on concrete. He could hear their guns being drawn.

Matt exhaled through his teeth, forcing his focus into a point. One heartbeat to his left—fast, anxious. Another straight ahead, steady, sure. He aimed for that one.

He leapt forward, swinging wide, his baton snapping against a wrist, another gun skidding away. The man roared and swung a crowbar; Matt caught it mid-swing, twisting it out of his grip and slamming the handle into his chest.

Another heartbeat flared behind him. Matt turned too slowly—

Crack!

The gun went off. A shockwave split the air, the bullet slamming into his helmet.

White noise flooded his head. His world tilted.

Matt stumbled back, his knees giving way as his balance disintegrated. His hands hit the floor, the ground spinning under him. The men were shouting now, voices muffled, distant, like underwater. A shrill ringing blocked out everything else. 

Oh God no. 

He forced himself up, barely upright, and ran  toward the nearest alley. He couldn’t hear the men anymore, couldn’t hear anything except the ragged thud of his own heartbeat. But he could feel bullets whizz past him, mere inches away. 

He vaulted the chain-link fence on muscle memory alone. Every step was fire. His head screamed.

He ran as hard as he could, tripping as he went, until he couldn’t feel the vibrations of anyone chasing him. All he could do was collapse, the world dissolving into static.

The ringing was so loud Matt couldn’t hear. 

He. Couldn’t. Hear. 

Panic, pure and desperate, clawed at him. 

No no no this couldn’t be happening. 

He stayed where he was, praying the ringing would go away so he could stand up and get home. 

If anything the ringing got louder. 

Matt’s hands were on his head and he was rocking. He could smell his blood but he was too confused to figure out where it was coming from.  

Just get home. You gotta get home. 

He stood up and felt the world tilt on its axis. The pavement beneath him lurched, shifting like a boat at sea. He tried to breathe, to anchor himself on a sound, a vibration, anything, but the ringing in his ears drowned out everything. 

Muffled. Underwater. Distant.

Don’t panic. Focus.

The thought barely registered. His helmet had taken the bullet, but the impact rattled him to the core. Every injury screamed at him, every bruise and torn muscle flaring in white-hot waves of pain.

You’re going to die in that stupid costume! He heard Foggy scream at him. 

“No,” he rasped, like if he spoke it aloud it would be true. “No, I’m not.”

He just had to get home. 

He staggered forward, the world tipping violently with each step, nausea rolling in his stomach. His legs gave, pitching him to the ground. He dry-heaved, clutching the pavement.

Get up! his mind screamed.

His body felt useless but he forced himself upright again, swaying. His senses—normally sharp, precise, a map of the world—were scrambled. Sounds bent and broke apart. Surfaces were treacherous under his feet. 

He collapsed again, lungs hitching, panic clawing up his throat. The city, usually alive with cues, had become a nothing more than maze of shadows and ringing.

You’re going to die in that stupid costume! She screamed again. 

No you’re not. Get home. Don't die. You can’t die here, you can’t. Focus, Matt!

His hands fumbled for his phone, but his gloves were slick, from blood or sweat he didn’t know.  He lost his grip and his  phone flew from his hands. 

He groaned, stomach twisting, heart hammering, his hands running over the concrete. Relief crashed into him when his fingertips finally found it.

“Call… Foggy,” he choked out, voice distant even to himself.

It rang. And rang.

“Hi!” He could hear her voice, muffled but there. 

“Foggy—”

“This is Phoebe Nelson-Murdock. I can’t answer the phone right now. Leave me a message!”

The voicemail beep hit him like a hammer. His tongue was lead. His thoughts scattered.

“Foggy..." His voice cracked. "I... I got hit in the head. I can't... I can't hear. I-I messed up, babe. I... I'm not sure where I am. Just... please... call me back." He swallowed, trying to steady his breath, then pushed out the rest. "J-just in case... I love you, and I’m... really sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to—“

The dial tone cut him off like a death sentence. Like a goodbye. 

He pressed the phone to his chest, shaking. Alone. Blind. Deaf. Disoriented. He had never felt smaller, more exposed. The city loomed, indifferent and cruel. 

He thought about the last time he’d spoken to Foggy, and dread filled him when he realized that if he didn’t make it out of this, that was how she’d remember him. 

Fighting. 

Letting her cry alone in their bedroom.

Thinking he didn’t love her enough to stay. 

Thinking she wasn’t the light of his life.

That he died and left her and their baby alone.

Matt almost started crying. 

Stop! Focus! His heart raced as he forced himself to breathe. 

“Call… Karen Page.”

The phone rang.

Each ring felt like an eternity. He pushed himself upright again, managing to stay on his feet for a second, just long enough to take a wobbly step. The world tilted violently to the side, and his head slammed into something hard. He didn’t even register what it was, only the sharp pain that flooded through him before the world went dark again.

The phone slipped from his hand.

“Matt? Hello?” Karen’s voice bled through. His consciousness slipped too fast to answer.

“Matt? Are you there? … Matt?”