Red

by onyourleft084

Summary:

When Natasha Romanoff goes into hiding in Hell's Kitchen after the fall of SHIELD, she never plans to get attached to her new life, to the city, and, okay, to the handsome blind guy in the apartment next door. But God works in mysterious ways, and no one knows it like Matt Murdock.

Notes:

This fic contains an AU version of the Daredevil episode 'Cut Man'.

Chapter 1: Kitchen Rules

'New York City, the center of the universe. Times are shitty, but I'm pretty sure it can't get worse...'- Angel Dumott-Schunard, Rent

 

"So, how do you like the apartment?"

Natasha Romanoff wiped off the dingy window of her new apartment with one black sleeve, creating a small clean spot for her to look through. She didn't get much of a view; the building opposite hers was disturbingly close, a bright neon glare from the billboard sign attached to it bleeding in through her windows. Natasha blinked and yanked on a cord, letting black velvet curtains rustle down over the glass and shut the light out completely.

"The neon sign's a bother, but honestly Magda, I'm just glad to have it," Natasha replied, holding her phone close to her ear and speaking in a low tone. "Thanks again."

"Hey, anything for an ex-assassin buddy," came the reply from the woman on the other end. "I make sure this one's always fully furnished in case you need it. Can't do anything about the heating though-- or the spiders, but you're not afraid of those, are you?"

Natasha smiled. "It's just fine, Magda. Besides it's only temporary. Just long enough until I figure something out or opportunity knocks on my door."

"So you're still holding out for the Avengers to give you a call?" Magda said.

"It's on the table," Natasha shrugged. "Why do you think I asked for a place in Manhattan and not...Cabo?"

Magda tsked slightly. "Are you sure that's what you want, Widow?"

Natasha frowned. "It's not like I have anything else."

Silence passed between the two women. Then Magda spoke.

"Well...If you need anything, don't hesitate to call on this secure frequency. Oh, by the way, the landlord tells me you have a neighbor in the next penthouse. A lawyer, apparently. Blind fella, a guy named Murdock."

"So he can't see my face."

"One of the reasons why I told you this was perfect for your situation."

"Great. Thank you, Magda."

"Dasvidanya."

Natasha's contact hung up, leaving her standing in the apartment with no light but for the three weak yellow bulbs fixed onto the corners of the ceiling.

"Nobody's going to find me here," she said aloud, and couldn't help but grin about how right she was. In a place like this, no one asked questions or suspected her to be anything more than a Russian immigrant working at the retail store. Additionally, if the Avengers reopened for business and needed the Black Widow, she would be subway ride away from Stark Tower. Hell's Kitchen was of more strategic value than one would give it credit for, and it was far from the mess that was the ruins of SHIELD. It definitely worked for Natasha.

She had cut her hair herself, short enough to hide under a brown wig. Carefully-applied makeup made her look older than she really was. Natasha had adopted the name Nadia Dotevsky, cheerful and friendly (but not too friendly) newcomer to New York. She'd already planned this character's life down to the very last detail.

The spot she'd cleared on the window reminded her of the portal in the sky in New York, and for a second, Natasha let herself think about her old life, just another one to add to the already long list of endings and beginnings she'd acquired over the years. She wondered if Manhattan had been the peak of her career, and if everything after that was just a downhill slide.

SHIELD was gone, Natasha's life was open-ended, and the Widow had to spin new webs.

Regimes fall every day. She had learned to shrug the past off and focus on the present.

One day at a time. Survive.

 

---

 

Matt's new neighbor was very, very intriguing.

He noticed her presence the moment he mounted the stairs to his penthouse apartment, the vibrations in the air that signaled that someone had moved in next to him. Approaching the landing, he caught a variety of smells (Kevlar, leather, faint tinges of sweat, steel.) The heartbeat and breathing of an athletic woman in her early 30s. It sounded normal to him, yet he could detect an edge of tension in it, as if the woman had lived most of her life in an adrenaline rush. If there was any danger in this building, Matt guessed she'd be the first to snap into action.

Well, the first after him, of course.

Most curious of all was the scent of gunpowder and bullets in the air. It sent up warning flags in Matt's mind and his imagination into overdrive-- was she a criminal, a hit-woman, or perhaps just a cop? That would explain the nature of her heartbeat. Perhaps she was being abused and kept weapons to protect herself. Or maybe she was just one of those people who happened to keep guns around.

Also, more intriguing in itself was the fact that she had chosen this apartment to settle in, with its broken heating and god-awful neon sign across the way (which never bothered Matt, but which his guests constantly pointed out.) Perhaps there was more to this woman than he--

Matt heard her footsteps rapidly approaching and heard the front door of her apartment being pulled open, the rush of wind from its swing back vibrating through the air. He stopped, hearing her breath catch at the sudden sight of him.

"Hello," Matt said quickly. He gave her what Foggy had often described as his most disarming smile.

Instantly the woman relaxed (slight exhalation, heartbeat slowing, bones shifting as raised shoulders settled down) and Matt could detect a hint of a smile in her voice. "Oh, hi."

There was something off about the woman's voice. Like the slight Russian accent and high pitch it had felt...forced.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't told that someone was moving in next to me," Matt said politely.

"It was kind of a short notice arrangement," the woman replied, giggling. A fake laugh, Matt noticed. Investigate, find out more, but for God's sake don't act creepy... "You must be Mr. Murdock. The other neighbors mentioned you lived here first."

"That's me." He extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, miss...?"

"Nadia Dotevsky."

Wrong. That's a lie. But a very good one. Matt almost missed it. The slide of her palm into his yielded more information (cool smooth skin, strong capable fingers, a firm grip, is that a bruise on her knuckle?) but not enough.

"And are you Russian, Miss Dotevsky?"

Fake laugh again. "Yes, my parents were immigrants. Did you guess it from my name?"

"There's an accent to your voice," Matt said with a small smile. "Well, I look forward to getting to know you."

"Likewise, Mr. Murdock."

"Oh, call me Matt."

"Then call me Nadia."

"All right, I will."

She brushed past him down the stairs as he went on up, and Matt's head turned ever so slightly, trying to get a better feel of who this woman was and why she had to lie...

"See you later!" Nadia said cheerfully, and Matt nodded casually before continuing on to his own front door.

The familiar temperature and smells of his apartment welcomed him in, but Matt was still preoccupied with thoughts of Miss Dotevsky and her peculiar persona. That girl was definitely hiding something-- what exactly it was, Matt couldn't really place. It was just a feeling he had. But in all fairness, he thought, if Nadia had secrets then finding them out wasn't exactly his business.

Matt had secrets of his own, after all. A behind-the-scenes action reel of bloody knuckles, sharp-smelling sweat and churning adrenaline, of heartbeats spiking in terror under the cold clutch of his fingers and hard nights serving justice to those he could not condemn in a courtroom. This was the life he led that no one could know about; yet which somehow felt far more real than anything else he did.

That night Matt pulled out his father's trunk like he did every night and donned the all-black outfit and mask that had become like a second skin in a matter of weeks. If Nadia Dotevsky was keeping any secrets, he thought as he took off into the miasma of sensations that was Hell's Kitchen after dark, Matt doubted they were anywhere near as crazy as his.

 

---

 

The dangerous thing about Natasha's new identity was not the location she'd picked, or the prevalence of spiders in her apartment, but that she was actually beginning to like it. Two weeks in and she found Nadia Dotevsky's routine of working at the retail store and dropping by the mini-mart for a snack on the way home to be oddly comforting. No aliens, no conspiracies. SHIELD may have fallen and Hydra may have been exposed, yet there were still pockets of the world that functioned perfectly fine no matter the drama. Hell's Kitchen, for all its flaws, was preferable to a government organization that had been crippled from within by a group of terrorists from the 40s.

Natasha was, despite sometimes losing heating in her apartment and sneezing because of the dust, comfortable. For the first time since SHIELD fell she was actually comfortable. And that scared her a little. She didn't want it to come to the point that when Steve, or Clint, or Tony offered, she would turn them down in favor of the simple life she'd built in the Kitchen. The moment she'd realized how easy it would be to turn her back on it all despite what she initially thought, Natasha tried to find ways to make life a little less bearable. Maybe move into another apartment, with or without Magda's help. Get a different job. Don't hold anything long enough to form acquaintances or attachments to ordinary people.

She walked down the sidewalk as dusk fell and turned the corner that to her apartment. So far, the 'no attachments' part would be fairly easy.

"Nadia, hello," said a low, calm voice behind her, and Natasha turned to see Mr. Murdock catching up to her as she neared the building. Exit Natasha, enter Nadia.

"Matt!" She paused. "Oh my God, what happened to you?"

The man's face was marked with slight red bruises and raw spots. His lip had a cut on one side, that opened slightly as the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile.

"I, uh, fell."

"Fell where?"

"The stairs at work."

Natasha tsked. "Oh, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Nadia. Happens all the time. At least nobody tells me to watch where I'm going."

She found herself laughing. Not just as Nadia, but as Natasha too.

"How did you know it was me, anyway?"

"Well, you're my only neighbor, so your footsteps stand out to me," Matt said. "Everyone's is unique." He fell into step with her as they reached the apartment building and headed up to the penthouses.

"Watch your step," Natasha joked, to which Matt replied "Ah, you'll catch me if I fall, won't you?"

"Oh, very smooth," Natasha teased, letting Matt ahead on the stairs. "Am I being flirted with?"

"Worth a shot."

"Is it? You might be mistaken," Natasha bantered. Lay it on thick. Be friendly enough to throw him off, but not too friendly. "For all you know I could have awful skin and a buzz cut and a background in jelly wrestling."

"You don't have awful skin," Matt said.

"How do you know?"

"I shook your hand when we first met, remember?" He grinned goofily as they reached the landing. "And I definitely would've smelled jello on you from the start."

"You can smell that good?"

"The rest of me makes up for the one sense I've lost," Matt explained. "I notice a lot. Sometimes it gets confusing."

Natasha chewed her lip. "You said you're familiar with my footsteps. Can you hear me in my apartment?"

"Sometimes. Yes."

She aimed a carefree smile at him. "Then I guess I'll have to be quieter. Good evening, Matt."

"Good evening, Nadia."

 

---

 

Every time Matt had encountered the mysterious Nadia since their first meeting, he always tried to find out a little more about her. He always greeted her with a ready smile when their paths crossed, and while he couldn't see her smile back, he could hear her lips lift in response, the slight chuckle in her breath when she said, "Hi!" Always Matt sensed a false note of cheeriness in the back of her voice. Which continued to make him question: who was Nadia Dotevsky really, and why did she have to pretend?

He found himself thinking about that in the minutes between sleeping and waking, as he lay in bed staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Since he had mentioned being able to hear her from his apartment, he'd noticed it was getting harder and harder for him to hear her move about through the wall, as if she was intentionally keeping quiet. It baffled him even further.

Matt, why do you even give a damn?

Maybe, said a tiny voice in the back of his head, you're just desperate to find someone else who's hiding something just like you.

You should have thought about how hard it would be to lead a dual life before putting on that mask and trying to fight crime.

I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect this city, and if it means a little struggle, I'll get over it. Focus on one night after another.

You can't do that if you keep trying to find out who Nadia really is. Every move you hear her make sounds suspicious already...and anyway, even if you did discover what she was hiding, do you really think she would be carrying a similar burden to yours? Face it, Murdock. You're alone in this.

Matt rolled over, burying his head in the pillow to attempt silence. He had never expected how paranoid, how tense, how lonely this crusade of his was going to make him.

Meanwhile, Natasha was lying in her own bed, staring at her own ceiling, one slender wrist encircled by a handcuff that attached itself to the bedpost. An old habit she had brought with her from the Red Room. She thought she'd kicked it when she joined SHIELD, but during her nights undercover, Natasha found sleeping with it ridiculously calming in terra incognito. If she moved around in her sleep, would Matt be able to hear the chain link clink? Would he know it was a handcuff?

Her mind wandered to the bruises she had noticed on him. Certainly someone with such superior hearing would have the enhanced sense of balance to go along with it (and Natasha knew this because she'd heard from Clint Barton how messed up it was for him, with 80% hearing loss, to attempt acrobatic skills at the circus he grew up in) and not fall down the stairs. Besides, you didn't get those bruises by falling flat on your face. They looked like they'd been inflicted in battle-- and the Black Widow would know.

Maybe he's just a guy who's into really intense boxing as a workout. Maybe he got mugged in an alley and didn't want to tell me. Wow, Nat, you really have a thing for being concerned about scruffy good-looking guys lacking one out of five senses.

Hm, now that you bring it up, Matt Murdock IS kinda good-looking.

Natasha shut her eyes and tried to keep them that way, hoping one of those opportunities she was holding out for would come soon. With someone so perceptive next door, she wasn't sure how long even she could keep up such a convincing act.

With someone so nice next door, she wasn't sure how long she wanted to.

 

 

Chapter 2: One Thing Led to Another

Summary:

Here's where the episode Cut Man gets severely AU'd. In which the ratio of Matt Badassery is not proportionate to the generous amounts of Natasha Badassery-- she totally steals his spotlight in this chapter.

'The devil doesn't bother with us anymore. We are more than sufficient to damn ourselves!' - Ben Zayb, El Filibusterismo

 

The cries of the abducted boy were still ringing in his ears even after Matt had gotten away from the remaining gangsters and stumbled into the skip in a weary stupor. The cloying aroma of trash around him numbed into nothingness, leaving behind only a faint feeling of despair. He had failed. Nobody was going to save that kid now.

It occurred to him that the whole thing had been a trap-- the boy kidnapped just to draw him out, the three mobsters lying in wait just for the man in black to show up so they could beat the crap out of him. And they succeeded-- Matt hurt everywhere. He could taste blood on his own lips. Around him the sounds and sensations of the city shifted and swirled and blurred in his woozy head, becoming sharp then fading away in turn...

One sound did cut through the indefinite swirl. The sound of footsteps-- a woman's, light and unhurried in their tread, but somehow measured and guarded. They were the same footsteps he had heard going up to the apartment next to him the past few weeks. Nadia. Of all people, it had to be her. Matt just had the worst luck in the world, didn't he?

Without folding his hands, without speaking aloud, he prayed silently: please don't let her find me.

But a man like him should know now that God works in mysterious ways.

The footsteps halted past the dumpster, and Matt heard the woman's heartbeat catch as she looked over, down at him. The exhalation of surprise from her mouth was faint but distinct.

"Sir? Hey...sir?"

Go away...please turn around and walk away...leave me--

He felt himself being lifted slightly by the shoulders, a hand check for a pulse. Out of impulse he batted her away and mumbled "No, don't..."

Big mistake.

Matt heard her heartbeat catch again. She leaned in apprehensively.

"Matt?"

Before he could answer, she'd pulled the mask over his head.

"Matt!" There was a sharp tone to her voice now, equal parts oh my God are you okay and what is this, what are you doing here?

Matt pushed her away, albeit weakly, but to his surprise Nadia resisted with the practiced air of someone who had been trained to withstand force. She grabbed him by the shoulders with surprising strength, and Matt was 99% sure that she was definitely glaring at him.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" she hissed. "You're hurt! Who did this?"

"Nadia, please..."

"No." She pulled him out of the dumpster and put one of his arms over her shoulder. "You need help."

"Not the hospital," Matt managed to get out.

Nadia paused for a second, her stance softening as she half-supported his weight.

"Okay, not the hospital," he heard her say, before he sank back into unconsciousness. "I promise."

 

---

 

 

The last thing Natasha ever wanted was to do while undercover was something heroic.

If you could call lugging the unconscious frame of a lean, battered blind guy up three flights of steps and into your apartment heroic.

She pushed the door open and dragged Matt inside, locking the door behind her. Her mind was still buzzing from the surprise of finding her neighbor inside of a dumpster on her way home from work. If she hadn't taken a double shift today, she'd have totally missed this golden opportunity.

Natasha discovered Matt lying half-dead in the rubbish, wearing an all black outfit that hugged his (honestly impressively muscular) form. He had a mask on, too-- a type of cloth wrapped around his head that concealed the upper half of his face. Natasha knew the importance of a mask, which was why she had made the snap judgment not to drop him off at a hospital, even before he'd begged her not to. She felt like it made up for her ripping it off his head in the first place. Now he was lying sprawled over her lumpy couch, bleeding all over the place. It was the first time Natasha had actually seen his whole face, without it being concealed by his round red glasses.

He has nice eyelashes, though.

Natasha spent the next two hours puttering about with a medkit (one she'd salvaged from the SHIELD chopper she, Fury and Sam Wilson has escaped in after the Triskelion fell) trying to do her best by Matt's wounds. All the time wondering why she even bothered. An internal argument boiled in her head as she did so.

This is going to complicate things, Nat!

What was I supposed to do, leave him for dead in the dumpster?

Since when were you such a bleeding heart heroine anyway? Your days as an Avenger are done, so focus on surviving today--

It's what Clint would do.

That silenced all the doubts in her head for good. Natasha allowed herself a deep breath. It's what Clint would do.

A part of Natasha wanted to press Matt for questions, but another part reminded her that she had her own secrets to keep. Their threads had already crossed; she had to make sure they didn't tangle.

 

---

 

The first sound that materialized as Matt returned to consciousness was Nadia's heartbeat. He focused on it, as if it were a beacon leading him to shore. Then, little by little, as his senses returned, Matt picked out the musty smell of an old couch and the dimensions of an apartment similar to his, but slightly emptier and colder in temperature.

"Nadia," he slurred.

There was an edge to her voice when she spoke. "Take it easy, Matt. I'm right here."

"We're in your apartment, right?"

"Yes. You said not to go to the hospital, remember?"

Matt managed to lift his head slightly. "So you managed to stitch me up? Where did you learn how to do that?"

Nadia did not answer.

He shifted on the couch. "You're not really who you say you are, are you?"

Matt felt her muscles tense. "No. I'm not." Her voice had suddenly become lower and huskier-- what Matt was sure was her real voice, no fake pitch or exaggerated accent. "Are you going to stay awake now or am I going to lose you again?"

Matt blinked. "I'm fine."

"Good. Listen to me." He felt Nadia lean in. "I'm going to look after you until you can get back on your feet, but that's as far as it goes. I have my secrets, and apparently, you have yours."

"You want a 'don't ask, don't tell' arrangement."

"That's exactly what I want."

"If you're so tight with your secrets, why did you help me in the first place?"

Matt could hear exasperation in her response. "Did you want me to let you bleed to death? Because I could do that right now."

That didn't faze Matt. "How do you know I won't tell people whatever I find out about you once I'm strong enough to leave?"

Nadia laughed dryly. "Because then I'll hunt you down and put you back in that dumpster. Handicap or not."

He could tell that she was not joking.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, you don't."

Matt shut his eyes resignedly to signal 'yes.' He heard Nadia nod curtly and return to dressing a wound on his arm.

"For what it's worth, I always knew you were lying," Matt mumbled, eyes still closed. "It kinda tore me apart, wondering why someone like you had to pretend so damn hard."

"It's good to know you cared so much," Nadia said sarcastically.

The silence that descended on them was uncomfortable, especially because it was never silence to Matt. He could hear Nadia's heart beating rapidly, her breathing low and frustrated.

"You really want to ask me what happened," he finally said aloud, "but you don't want to because you think that asking will open up questions about yourself."

"Damn, you're good," Nadia replied. "Did you tell that much from my heartbeat? Maybe you can read minds. I've seen crazier shit." She cleaned her hands using a stream of alcohol (he heard liquid shake in a bottle, smell its sharp chemical scent) and stood. "But you know what? Who cares what happened. I'm just a girl concerned about her blind neighbor."

Matt was about to say something when he sensed something different down in the third floor. Perfume. Cologne? Aftershave. A man's. He's not from around here. Disguised. Danger, danger, danger.

"Someone's coming," he told Nadia.

"Who is coming? How do you know?"

"Third floor, working his way up to us. I can smell his aftershave from up here. He's looking for me..."

"You smelled him," Nadia stated skeptically. "And how do you know he's looking for you?"

"Because I can hear him going door to door. In a couple of minutes he'll be here."

Matt could hear her heartbeat lurching in anticipation. "Can you stand?"

"I think so."

"Find somewhere to hide. I'll handle him."

Matt cocked his head. "How are you going to handle him?"

Nadia shrugged, "I'll make something up. I'm good at that, remember?"

"Right." He slipped off the couch and dragged himself across the apartment, concealing himself behind a corner. A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door.

Matt could sense Nadia turn to face him in his hiding spot, a reassuring smile lifting the corners of her lips though her breathing still remained tense. Then her entire demeanor shifted as she opened the door and greeted the man in the hall.

Matt held his breath, listening to Nadia throw 'Detective Foster' off with the right amounts of friendly inquisitiveness and wary apprehension at seeing a cop at the door. She's good. He could hear the fake start to believe her and begin moving away from the door. The sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall, taking the strong cologne with him.

"That was good," Matt remarked, emerging from behind the corner. He heard Nadia lock the door again and exhale, not in relief but in exasperation.

"You're some kind of special little snowflake, aren't you?" She said. "Must be, if the cops are after you. Although I take it you did worse than just rob a bodega like he said."

"This guy wasn't a cop," Matt said. "He's part of the Russian syndicate that kidnapped a boy I was trying to rescue. Probably came here to make sure I wouldn't try it again."

He heard Nadia perk up. "Russian...syndicate?"

"Yeah. I tried to stop them, but I walked right into a trap. That's how all this happened," he added, gesturing to the wounds on his body.

"So that's what you are, some kind of vigilante," Nadia said, and for a second Matt heard a tone of respect in her voice.

"Surprised you hadn't figured it out by now."

"And these Russians, you said they kidnapped a boy?"

"Yeah, but--"

He heard her cross to the door and unlock it again.

"Nadia?" Matt said. "Where are you going?

"Wait right here," she said.

 

---

 

Again the internal argument boiled in Natasha's brain.

I thought we agreed not to do anything heroic...

Hello!? Didn't you hear him? Some kid got abducted, by Russians no less, are you just going to stand by and let that happen?

You say 'Russians' like it's a bad thing. You are Russian, Natalia Alianovna.

Yeah, so I know exactly how to punish these guys.

Natasha vaulted over the railing of the stairs, expertly navigating her way down the stairwell and finally coming to land right in front of the false Detective Foster. The look on his face was priceless.

"What--"

Natasha punched him full on the nose, sending him staggering back. He collapsed, knocked out with one blow. She cracked her knuckles. Two and a half weeks without punching anybody, and Natasha had to admit, that felt borderline orgasmic.

Let's see if Mr. Murdock's senses are really as good as he claims them to be.

"Matt," Natasha said in a low voice. "Get down here and help me get this guy up the stairs."

In a few minutes, she heard footsteps coming down the landing, and Matt's black-clad form emerged. He had put his mask back on, but it did not conceal his mouth, which pulled into a grimace of surprise.

"Oh, so you did hear me," Natasha said.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Natasha gestured grandly to the unconscious mobster. "Information."

 

---

 

"You should let me do it."

"What? But I want to do it."

"You do?"

Natasha nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I haven't done it in ages. Besides, do you even know how to torture someone?"

Matt frowned. "You're gonna have to wear a mask."

She smiled. "I won't need one. Fine, go ahead, put the fear of God into him. And if it takes too long, I'll be right here."

"I doubt it'll take this long." Matt walked over to where they had strung up the perp by his wrists on the water tower. Natasha heard him crack his knuckles before asking: "Where's the boy?"

This whole intimidation, torture-for-information setup was an idea they had both arrived at at the same time, but for different reasons. Natasha stated that it would be easy to throw their captive off the roof if things got nasty. Matt just wanted to get information in a place where they were less likely to be heard. To which Natasha had rolled her eyes and said that Matt was no fun.

Now that she'd dropped the whole pretense of Nadia Dotevsky (although Matt still called her Nadia) Natasha found it easier to give less fucks. She knew she was driving Matt crazy with her offhand way of dealing with the whole situation, and she enjoyed it. So far, no questions about who she really was or how she knew how to do all this, although she supposed Matt had his suspicions. As far as Natasha was concerned with his life, Matt Murdock was a vigilante (a new one, judging from the way he operated) using his ridiculously enhanced senses to fight crime.

Guy would make one hell of an Avenger. Combat skills, legal expertise, plus he's a walking lie detector. Ruthless, too. He just needs a little nudge in the right direction...

"You're doing it wrong," Natasha finally said, when Matt's punches yielded no words that were nothing more than insults.

"Excuse me?" Matt said.

"You can't just keep punching somebody and expect that to convince them into telling you what they know," she explained, with the air of a lecturer in a college classroom. "These organized crime types, they're tough, especially the Russian ones. You're gonna have to go farther."

"You're letting the lady tell you what to do?" sneered their captive. He laughed through the blood on his nose and mouth and addressed Natasha next. "You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing, honey. If you come over here I could show you a lot more..."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. Matt must have sensed something because he actually stopped and turned and faced her.

"Nadia, do not--"

She passed him swiftly, unhooked the perp from the water tower and dragged him all the way to the edge of the rooftop, poising him threateningly over the protective barrier. Then she pulled off her brown wig. The man's pupils shrunk in a truly rewarding fashion.

"Do you know who I am?" Natasha said in Russian.

"It's you," he squeaked, also in Russian. "You're her. The Black Widow!"

"Then you know how much exactly I know about this kind of thing." Natasha leaned in menacingly. "You know how much pain I can put you through. The stories are true, you know."

"I-- I'm sorry," gasped the man. "Forgive me, Widow. I didn't recognize--"

"What is your name?"

"Semyon."

"Listen carefully, Semyon," Natasha said. "You will tell the man in black the exact location of the boy your buddies kidnapped, or those stories will become very true for you very quickly. It has been too long since I've used my sting." She reached up, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back in a painful angle.

"Nadia, what are you doing?" Matt asked behind her. She paid no attention to him, releasing Semyon. He gasped.

"Okay, okay!"

"And do not lie," Natasha warned, "because he will know." She pulled him back away from the edge and dumped him at Matt's feet.

"That's how it's done," she said.

"Did you get the boy's location?" Matt said, puzzled. To which Natasha kicked Semyon in the ribs and he choked out an address somewhere on 11th street.

"Is he lying?" She asked.

Matt shook his head.

"Go ahead and knock him out."

Matt did.

Natasha inspected the fingernails of one hand, aware of the look he was giving her.

"What did you tell him to make him cooperate?" He finally said.

"I told him who I really was."

The frustration in his voice was apparent. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

Ah, well. Natasha couldn't exactly say this wasn't worth it. She faced Matt proudly, red hair gleaming in the moonlight.

"I'm Natasha Romanoff," she said. "I'm the Black Widow."

 

 

 

Chapter 3: Take Me to Church

'Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.'

- We Wear the Mask, Paul Lawrence Dunbar

 

Wow, Murdock. You just have the worst luck, don't you. Natasha freaking Romanoff. The Black Freaking Widow. Avenger, spy, assassin, and your next-door neighbor. The whole time you wonder who Nadia really is and turns out she's one of the most infamous of them all...

"Explains a lot, doesn't it," Nadia-- or rather, Natasha, said. Matt resisted the urge to throw something.

"Do you have any idea how many laws you've broken in your life?" he demanded.

"Excuse you, that's none of your business."

"I'm a lawyer, it's definitely my business. If we didn't have more pressing matters to attend to right now I'd have both you and this jerk over here arrested."

"Ah, the cops aren't gonna arrest me."

"Why not. You're a wanted woman."

There was a derisive laugh in her voice. "I'll just escape. Simple as that."

Matt sighed. "Whatever."

"I think I deserve a thank you for helping you out."

"Don't push it." Matt lifted the unconscious gangster and dumped him in Natasha's arms. "Do me one last favor, drop this guy off at the hospital."

"What?" she said. "So you're going to go after that kid alone?"

"Yes," Matt said bluntly. He crossed the roof to the stairwell. Natasha followed, lugging the man behind her.

"Matt, three mobsters were already too much for you," she said as they went down the stairs, "and you're still injured. Let me come."

"No. I'm sorry."

"I can't let you do this on your own!"

"You're gonna have to," he said matter-of-factly. "I can't involve anyone else in this. Even if they are trained assassins." They stopped in the landing.

"What if you get killed."

"I'm not...going to get killed."

"What if you fail?"

"I won't fail." Matt tilted his head. "Why do you give a damn?"

"Because you're my neighbor," said Natasha, as if it was obvious, "and you're a good guy trying to do the right thing, and if anything happened to you, and I could have helped but didn't because I let you convince me not to, I would never be able to forgive myself." She paused. "There's a lot I don't forgive myself for as it is."

The steady, placid truth of her heartbeat was almost too painful for Matt to keep listening to.

"You want to help? Get this guy to the authorities," Matt said quietly. "I'll meet you back here if I need more stitching up."

"And if you don't come back?"

Matt paused. "Can I count on you to find me, then?"

Natasha nodded curtly. "Fine."

They headed downstairs together quickly then parted ways in the street. As Matt took off in one direction, Natasha headed in another, but he heard her say softly, because she knew he could hear her: "Good luck, Matt."

 

Matt found the Russians' hideout easily, from the smell of alcohol and cigars and chloroform and weaponry. From the sound of the scared heartbeat of a young child somewhere in the midst of all that.

Nine gangsters, all caught by surprise by the man in black. It was hard to get them all down, and Matt soon found out that Natasha was right: they were tough. But the sound of the boy's heartbeat at the other end of the hall drove him to power through until none were left standing. Until the only thing in his way was the door that kept him prisoner. It splintered under Matt's boot after three or four kicks. He could sense the boy standing against the wall, terrified.

Matt extended a hand, trying to keep a calm voice. "It's okay. I'm here to save you. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

He felt a hand in his, cold with sweat. Matt lifted the boy's small frame into his arms (finally, at last, safe, whole, alive) and carried him out to freedom.

They'd made it to the corner of the main road when Matt heard a car approach (smell of gasoline and motor oil, rumble of an engine, hot air and pressure on brakes) and stop abruptly in front of them. The door to the passenger's seat opened.

"Get in!" called Natasha's voice.

Seriously?

 

---

 

They dropped the kid off at his home address, lingered long enough to make sure his parents had woken up and ran outside to him and then drove off again. Even through the rumble of the engine. Matt could hear the boy's mother and father sobbing in relief, the three of them hugging on the front lawn.

Natasha glanced at him. "You're awfully quiet."

"I'm tired," was all he said. Then "did you steal this car?"

"I borrowed it," Natasha corrected.

"Yeah, same thing right," Matt said sarcastically.

"Come on, Matt," Natasha coaxed. "What happened? And here I was thinking we were beginning to be friends."

"I was friends with Nadia Dotevsky," Matt retorted. "You're a different person."

"Okay, so we lied to each other," Natasha said. "I'd say it makes us even. In fact, I'd say it makes us the same. A guy and a gal keeping secrets and hiding things, trying to make it in Hell's Kitchen. Ironic that we ended up right next to each other." She chuckled wryly. "Guess we're stuck with each other, then."

Matt realized she was right. They knew each others' real identities now. If he went to the police with hers, she'd expose his-- and probably even laugh while she was at it.

But think about it, Murdock. It couldn't be all bad. Natasha had saved his life, after all. She'd helped him find the boy. She was even driving him home. The sins he had heard she'd committed felt like a far cry from the good he had actually seen her do.

"I guess we are," he said softly.

"Does that mean you trust me?"

Matt could hear incredulity in her voice, as if someone's genuine trust was a hard thing to come by.

He looked at her, even if he couldn't see her. "Well you came through for me in a big way tonight. So yeah. And thank you."

Matt could tell she was smiling. "We did good today."

"Yeah." He leaned back on the seat. "Do you think it makes up?"

"For what?"

"For whatever you did in the past. For failing to save SHIELD."

Natasha was quiet for a moment.

"I never thought of it that way," she said slowly. "I guess everything I do now is to make up for the red in my ledger. But tonight was...tonight was just me trying to help someone do the right thing." Natasha shrugged. "Must be some of Captain America's hero complex rubbing off on me. What about you? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm a guy with extremely enhanced senses who can hear this city crying out for help every night," Matt said quietly. "I can't exactly lie there and let bad things happen."

Natasha nodded. "I see your point." There was a pregnant pause, and the next thing she said was the most honest thing Matt had ever heard her say.

"You really are a just a good guy, aren't you."

Matt was thrown. "I...thanks," he finally said. "You're actually not so bad yourself."

"I assure you I am much, much worse," Natasha said sarcastically. "I can be one cold-hearted bitch."

"You're an Avenger."

She shook her head. "I'm just a spy who got tangled up with heroes."

 

---

 

Matt woke up on his own couch, in his own apartment. Sunlight warmed his face, chest and arms, and he could hear Natasha's heartbeat in the vicinity. There was something oddly relaxed, even light about it.

"Natasha..."

"Oh, you're awake," she said. "How are you feeling?"

Matt blinked. "Okay, I guess? Surprisingly, not shitty. What're you still doing in my apartment?"

"You passed out on the stairs and I dragged you up here because you were losing blood. You lasted just long enough to say something like, 'my place this time.'" There was a hint of a chuckle in her voice. "I have to say that was a pretty convincing way of getting a girl to come to your apartment."

"You patched me up again?" Matt sighed. "You know, I'm beginning to feel really lucky I met you."

"There's the flirty lawyer I met when I moved in," Natasha said. She came over, knelt by the side of the couch. "Don't mention it. Standard SHIELD training."

"So you've done this before."

"There was that time I had to stitch myself up after getting shot straight through the lower abdomen back in Odessa, so, yeah, I have done this before."

Oh right. International super-spy. So I was wrong, she has seen crazier shit than I have.

"So the only thing you weren't lying about as Nadia was that you're Russian."

"I was Russian," Natasha corrected. "Although I find that going back to my roots is useful. Especially when it comes to threatening thugs. I'm something like the Bogeyman back in Volgograd, really."

"Great," mumbled Matt, "I feel completely safe. So what's the Black Widow really doing in a place like Hell's Kitchen if she doesn't work for SHIELD anymore?"

"Whatever happened to 'don't ask, don't tell'?"

"Right, sorry," Matt amended. "I was just curious." But he heard Natasha exhale wearily, and after a short pause she spoke.

"After SHIELD fell, all my secrets were exposed. Everything I did, all the people I was. I had to get off the grid and find a new identity...Hell's Kitchen felt like a good place to lie low. I didn't think anyone was going to find me there." She paused. "And then I just had to run into you. Blind vigilante lawyer who can take a mean punch. What are the odds, right?"

It made Matt smile. "You make me sound like quite the catch."

"You're pretty special, but hardly the first disabled hero I've met. One of my best friends is deaf, you know."

"Huh," Matt said, intrigued. "Do I get to guess which one of the Avengers it is?"

Natasha grinned. "You can try." She stood. "Shall I take the liberty of making breakfast in your impressively spotless kitchen? You're blind, but how the hell do you know if something's clean? Screw that, how do you know if you look good before you go out in the morning?"

Matt laughed this time. He sat up on the couch. "Confidence, I guess? What day is it?"

"It's Sunday."

Sunday?

A sudden idea struck Matt. "Do you want to go to church with me?"

He heard Natasha's entire body shift in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah."

She frowned. "Is this what makes you feel better after a hard day's night?"

"It's what makes me feel better, period. What do you do after a hard day's night?"

Natasha shrugged. "Coffee. The most white-girl coffee I can afford."

"Then we can do that after."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

She was seriously considering it, he could tell. Matt had no idea why he suddenly invited her to hear mass with him, but somehow he felt that after everything they'd been through together he had a duty to coerce her into asking for holy forgiveness. They both needed it, after all.

"Okay. Sure, whatever," Natasha finally said. "But I'm not taking communion."

Matt smiled. "I'll go get dressed."

 

---

 

"What am I doing here."

Matt tugged on Natasha's arm playfully. "You are joining me for Sunday mass."

Natasha grimaced, looking up at the facade of the church that loomed before them. It was so unbelievably...ordinary.

"It's not like you're going to burn up when you step inside," Matt coaxed. "What are you, a demon? Come on, just do everything I do and pretend to be someone else. I thought you were good at blending in."

Natasha pushed the brown locks of her wig out of her face. "Fine, let's do this."

Do what Matt did, pretend to be a different person, all the while listen to the week's sermon-- Natasha found balancing all three to be surprisingly easy. She even found extra attention to watch Matt, eyes unreadable behind rose-colored glasses, listen intently and engagedly. This really was important to him. For his sake Natasha feigned interest. After a while, she didn't have to feign it at all.

"Hash tag blessed," she murmured, as the mass ended and the congregation exited the building. Matt raised his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"Nothing." Natasha just smiled.

"Shall we go get that coffee? My treat."

"Your...? Oh, no Matt. I got this."

"No, let me. To thank you for coming with me today. And for...well, a lot of other things." They stepped outside, and Matt held an upturned palm to the sunlight. "I think it's going to rain this afternoon."

Natasha shook her head in disbelief. "How the hell do you do that?"

Matt just smiled. "I'm special."

She nudged him in the ribs, hard. "You bet you are, dumpster boy. Now come on, I'm new to Hell's Kitchen. Where can you get a good coffee?"

"I know a place." Matt started walking, his cane rattling as they went.

They stood at the curb, about to cross the street, and Natasha was surprised when he gently took her arm. She realized he was actually pretending to be unable to sense the traffic coming. So she indulged, moving closer to him and helping him across the street.

"Thanks," Matt said.

"No problem," Natasha replied, and did not let go of his arm until they reached the coffee place.

 

 

 

Notes:

Every fic has a secret ingredient for keeping me going. This one's? Hozier. I have his deluxe album on loop.

Chapter 4: Dance with the Devil

'I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.' ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 4: Season of Mists

 

Matt took a sip of the coffee and licked his lips. "Arabica, definitely Arabica. The beans must've been about three days old when they were ground, though. A nice blend of flavor-- milk imported from France, Caen to be exact. Nothing artificial, and that's why this is the best coffee in Hell's Kitchen."

Natasha stared. "You can tell all that by taste?"

"Yeah, I can."

"This skill, did it just happen to develop or did you practice it specifically?"

"A little bit of both, I guess. When I was a kid I got contaminated by a chemical spill. The accident took my sight, but it gave me something else. I could hear better, smell better. I could-- can-- feel everything around me..." Matt reached for the sugar packets sitting between them on the table. "Changes in temperature or air pressure. People's breathing. Leaves when they rustle. The approximate weight of pedestrians walking past."

Natasha leaned her elbows on the table, listening in fascination. "That's amazing. How do you not get overwhelmed?"

"I learned to filter."

"Someone taught you?"

Matt smiled mysteriously. "Someone like me, yeah. I met him after my father died. His name was Stick and he was...a jerk."

"But you seem to have learned a lot from him."

Matt nodded. "He taught me how to fight, too. Insulted me and my old man while he was at it. Then he gave up, eventually."

"You sound bitter."

"I am not."

"And now you're pouting."

"Hah."

Natasha sipped her coffee placidly. "So you figured you'd use your skills to become a vigilante. Did you ever just sit down and go, 'hey, Hell's Kitchen is a pretty shitty place, what if I tried to make it better?'"

Matt laughed. "It wasn't that easy."

She shrugged, "I wouldn't know." Natasha looked down at her coffee, thinking about it. Matt had chosen this. Matt had chosen to do good. But she could hardly fault herself for how her own life had turned out when she had basically been raised to be a weapon. Nobody had asked Natalia Alianovna what she wanted.

Matt peered at her. "Are you okay? Your whole body feels different." He paused. "Okay, that is a weird thing to say, but seriously."

Natasha looked up. When was the last time anyone had asked if she was okay? She managed a smile.

"I was just trying to get my head around it. You lose your sight, you lose your father, your mentor screws you over, you're all alone, and yet you choose to do the right thing and help people." She met Matt's eyes, knowing he couldn't see her. "You really are a good guy."

"You sound like really good guys are hard to come by."

"They are."

"You're with the Avengers," Matt pointed out, "aren't they supposed to be the best guys?"

"They are. I just...you don't find the good guys on the street. In penthouse apartments in ugly buildings. Much less in dumpsters." She paused. "You don't see things the way other people do, but you see more than most of them combined, you see the stuff that needs to be fixed or stopped even when the rest of us are all caught up fighting aliens or God knows what. And then you do something about it rather than pretend like it doesn't exist. That's what makes you different."

Matt smiled, as if flattered. "It's good to be appreciated."

They were both silent for a while. Natasha finished her coffee, watching the people walk past the cafe window, idly wondering what it would be like to stay Nadia Dotevsky forever and just be normal, like them.

"Natasha?"

"Yeah."

Matt shifted in his seat. "You said you were a spy who got tangled up with heroes. I think there's a reason for that."

"A religious reason?" Natasha said dryly.

Matt grinned, an utterly goofy grin that lifted his whole face up and even made his red glasses shift a little. "Maybe it's God's little way of convincing you you're on your way."

She tried not to sound condescending. "On my way to where."

"Redemption."

Natasha blinked. "Does that even exist for a woman like me? I have a lot, a lot of red in my ledger..."

She was surprised when Matt put his hand over hers comfortingly. "And you're wiping it out."

It was almost too easy to make some kind of sarcastic remark, but for a second Natasha just let the words slide past her, a quiet and reassuring affirmation of something she had strived for all these years.

"Thanks, Matt," she said softly.

He nodded. "You're welcome."

 

---

 

After that Sunday, whenever Nat and Matt bumped into one another on the stairs, they did more than just smile and say hi. They would talk briefly, exchange some chit-chat, and then be on their way. But it was different, knowing that Matt knew her secret. Knowing that he knew she knew his. It wasn't often that Natasha met someone outside of SHIELD or the Avengers she ended up caring about personally, so being friends with Matt was...different.

They got to know each other a little better over the course of the next week, and she wryly obliged when he asked her to join him for church again. Although he made up for it afterward by bringing her to Fogwell's Gym where they both let off some steam, and Matt jokingly suggested they spar, and Natasha joked right back, and then he took it seriously, and then she took it as a challenge, and the following fight did not end well for either of them.

"I feel really special, you know, you taking me to all these places," Natasha said later, when she and Matt had cooled down a little.

He smiled. "You have no idea how nice it is to share this with someone."

She and Matt walked home, said goodbye to each other and returned to their respective apartments, but just before going to bed, Natasha went over to the wall and whispered into it:

"Goodnight, Dumpster Boy."

The humored knocking that came from the other side of the wall reassured her he'd heard her.

 

It was in the middle of the night that Natasha was woken abruptly by more knocking-- more like banging-- on her front door.

Natasha got up, puzzled. She pulled a handgun from under her pillow and slipped toward the door.

"Yes?"

"Natasha, it's me." Matt's voice. He sounded terse and breathless.

She opened the door to see him standing at the threshold, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a grey hoodie.

"Matt, what the hell?"

As if in answer he moved aside, revealing the figures of two unconscious men in black lying on the floor.

Natasha stared. "What the hell?"

"I heard them coming up the stairs and they didn't sound friendly. They were after you," Matt said, as she went to examine them. She kicked one into his back, revealing the skull and tentacles of the Hydra insignia on his vest.

"Shit," Natasha hissed. "Hydra."

"What?" Matt said, alarmed. "How did they find you?" He touched her shoulder. "Natasha, who else knows you're here?"

She bit her lip. "Magda. They must have gotten my location from Magda."

"Who's Magda?"

"An old friend-- Red Room acolyte-- she washed out of the program, but her forte's in undercover networking. Magda deals in secrets and works alone, they call her the Brown Recluse. She helps out former assassins trying to stay undercover or start new lives. She found this apartment for me..." Natasha trailed off, heading back through the door. She threw open her wardrobe door and started taking off her pajamas.

Matt tilted his head, following her footsteps. "Are you changing in there?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm right here."

"But you're blind, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but--" he shook his head. "Never mind. What are you going to do?"

Natasha zipped up the front of her catsuit. "I'm going to have a talk with Magda."

"You know where to find her."

"I know where to start." She crossed to the window.

"Natasha," Matt said. "Let me come."

She shook her head. "Sweet of you, but no. This is something I have to do alone."

"But--"

"Matt, please." Natasha looked up at him. "This might take longer than I think. This might be worse than I think. I can't have you getting all tangled up in this." Now she touched his shoulder. "Please stay here."

He sighed. "Fine."

He stepped aside and let her go, as if it was the hardest thing for him to do. Natasha activated her Widow's Sting bracelets, trying not to look straight at him and the expression of resignation and despondency he wore.

"What can I do?" Matt finally asked.

"What can you do?" Natasha paused as she swung one leg over the windowsill. "Be here when I get back."

 

 

---

 

Matt dragged the unconscious Hydra thugs onto the street where the badges would be sure to find them, then stayed in Natasha's apartment the whole night and well into the following day. He didn't come in to work, faking a bout of flu when Foggy, and then Karen, called. It felt pretty stupid, but Matt had the gut feeling it was worth it. Be here when I get back, Natasha had said. And by God, since he didn't know when that would be, he wasn't going anywhere.

Matt felt the entire day change into night, and Natasha still didn't return. He was beginning to feel the urge to break something, to throw some of her furniture out the window, raging in his helplessness to find her. He paced the apartment, taking deep breaths, trying to meditate the way Stick had taught him, all the while straining to hear her footsteps or her heartbeat.

Then he heard it.

Matt had the window back open before she even reached it, scaling the side of the building like the spider of her namesake. Natasha stumbled in, her breathing shallow, her heartbeat erratic. He could feel her carry herself wearily, taste copper in the air from numerous small injuries.

"Natasha, are you okay?"

She said nothing, just reached out and wrapped her hand around his.

Matt could feel her hand tremor ever so slightly, she was that tired. "What happened?"

"They got Magda." Natasha swallowed. "They tortured her for information--"

"Oh, God..."

"Then they killed her...Magda was never the strongest, but she tried..." She exhaled. "She was dead by the time I got to her place. Blood everywhere, they'd rifled through her files, wiped her computer and everything. I didn't know what to do, I placed an anonymous call to the police. Tried to track the guys that did it. Dead end..."

To his surprise she sat down right in the middle of the floor. He sat down next to her.

"How did they know to get to Magda?"

"Someone must have found her connections to me when I dumped my identity on the Internet. It just had to be Hydra, didn't it?" Matt had never felt anyone so tired before, not even his dad after a long, hard night in the ring. He could feel it in every breath she took, in the tremble of her lips. "I'm going to have to be more careful now."

He tsked. "Told you you should have brought me."

She shook her head. "I'm just tired, Matt. I'm..." There was hesitation in her voice. "Scared."

Without thinking, he put an arm around her, pulling her close. He felt Natasha stiffen slightly, but eventually settle against his chest as if she could do nothing else. Matt circled his free arm around her in a comforting embrace, wrapping them both together in a small, warm, trembling knot in the middle of the floor. He rested his chin on top of her head, as if somehow holding her would protect her completely.

"Your breathing's slowed down," Matt told her eventually. "Your muscles have relaxed. I can feel your heartbeat regulating."

"I feel better, yeah," Natasha mumbled, making no move to release herself from Matt's hold.

"Thanks for not snapping my neck when I hugged you."

He felt her chuckle against the fabric of his hoodie. "Just between you and me? I needed it."

Matt resisted the urge to run his fingers through her hair. "Don't hate me for this, but you need to call the Avengers. You need to call your friends."

Natasha pulled away slightly to look at him. "What? No. I won't do that."

"They can protect you, Natasha. If Hydra tries again, at least you won't be here."

"But you will."

"I can handle them."

"So can I." There was an edge of frustration in her voice. "I won't call anyone just to protect myself. There are no Avengers, they're scattered. We're scattered. I'd rather wait for them to need me than force them to get together just so I can be safe."

"There has to be someone who can protect you."

She shook her head. "The only other person I trust that much is lying low on his own, with a family he has to protect too. I'm not doing this to him." Natasha started to disentangle herself, not ungently, from Matt.

He was at his wits' end. "Tony Stark? I mean, you could--"

Natasha scoffed. "Now that's a point of honor. I'm not asking him for help...he has other problems..." She sighed. "I don't want to think about that right now, okay?"

Matt heard her fiddle with her phone, and a few seconds later the opening notes of a song started to fill the room (soft, almost muted strings, a simple yet heart wrenching melody, a quiet androgynous voice). He could feel small vibrations in the air as Natasha swayed slowly back and forth. She turned to him.

"Dance with me?"

He almost laughed. "What? I thought you were tired."

"I'm not tired when I'm dancing," she said.

"I don't know how."

"Ah, that's all right." Matt felt her come closer and take his hands in hers. "You just make something up. Nobody's going to see us."

"Well..." Matt was in between refusing and agreeing, but Natasha started moving gently to the rhythm, and he found himself doing the same, moved by the music and Natasha's weight shifting back and forth.

"You're doing wonderfully," she remarked.

"I hope that's not sarcasm."

"I'm too damn tired to lie or even joke right now, Matt," Natasha said with a small smile. "Did I tell you I took ballet lessons alongside espionage training?"

"Did you, now," Matt murmured, his senses awash in the sound of her heartbeat and the melody of the song. It ended sooner than he expected, and soon he was just standing in the middle of the apartment, Natasha in his arms, both surrounded by silence.

"Can I ask you one last thing?" She whispered.

Matt asked, "What?" but he had a feeling he already knew.

"Stay with me."

He pulled her closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Widow."

 

 

 

Notes:

The first scene in this chapter was inspired by, and written in homage to,The Blind Bandit episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender, when Toph explains the extent of her 'seeing through earthbending' ability to Aang. I love Toph and I love Daredevil and I think it's because of the same reasons. :)

Also, I had wanted to add dialogue in which Matt finds out that Natasha had also met Stick previously, but it felt awkward and unnecessary given how little we know of Stick's alliances in the MCU and what kind of unlikely, convoluted backstory I would have to pull out of my ass to explain how Widow encountered him. Ah well.

The character and concept of Magda was something I had been toying around with in my head for a few years, when I started thinking about what happens to the rest of the girls in the Red Room when they don't make the cut. I imagined her somehow continuing on as a freelance intelligence officer, with a name that alluded to another deadly spider species in reference to the Black Widow. In my head she's supposed to have been the one who puts Natasha in touch with people who have the files on the Winter Soldier which she hands Cap at the end of CA:TWS. I created her without the intention of killing her off behind the scenes, but somehow that happened, and I feel a little bit sad about it. It would have been nice to experiment with the character concept some more.

And finally, for atmospheric mood-setting purposes, (and for those who might give a shit) the song I imagine Nat n' Matt dancing to is 'Between the Bars' by Elliott Smith.

I actually have only two more chapters planned, so stay tuned and thanks for the subscriptions, comments and kudos (more kudos than I have ever received on AO3 before!!!)

Chapter 5: Exit Stage Left

Summary:

And finally, the reason for the title is explained.

'The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.' - Oscar Wilde

 

The next morning Matt popped back into his apartment to get ready for work, although he promised to join Natasha for breakfast-- and she in turn promised to have a decent one waiting on the table. Matt got dressed and returned to her apartment, and when she opened the door he swore he could hear her heart skip a beat.

"Well...how do I look?" He ventured, by way of a joke.

Natasha grinned. "I feel bad that you will never have any idea how good you look in that suit."

Matt felt himself blush. "That's reassuring to hear. Especially since I know you're not trying to flatter me."

She stepped aside, allowing him back into the apartment. Matt could smell eggs and sausages and slightly burnt toast. They sat down together.

"So do you have a plan if the Avengers don't call?" Matt asked.

Natasha sighed. "I'm gonna have to move on, get a new job, a new identity...Hydra might try another hit and it might be harder. I'm going to have to throw them off."

Oh, damn. Matt could feel her words sinking like ice into his heart, although he wasn't entirely sure why the thought of Natasha leaving was so bad, so almost unthinkable. "So you're going to leave?"

"As soon as possible. I'm resigning from the retail store today. Two more weeks should be enough time to figure something out." She said it as if it was nothing, as if it was ordinary, but Matt could hear a note of heaviness behind her voice.

He ignored it and nodded. "I'll help you, then."

Natasha cocked her head. "Are you sure you want to throw in with me? You'll be in danger too."

He smiled. "I'm a vigilante, my life is already in danger. And don't worry about it, Natasha," Matt added, "I'll help you-- find a new place to stay, whatever you want. From now on, your fights are my fights, okay?*"

He could feel her relax a little bit more. "Okay." Her tone turned humorous. "Although I'm warning you, you might get much more than you bargained for."

"I'll take my chances."

"You really think it's worth it."

"Hell yeah."

He could hear Natasha toying with her fork for a few seconds, as if hesitating to say something. Rather than prompt her, Matt merely looked down and focused on his own toast (whole wheat, 70% burnt, melted butter creamy and rich on his tongue) until she finally spoke.

"Thank you, Matt. And thank you for staying with me last night."

Matt nodded. "I could tell. Don't mention it, Natasha. I hardly think it's going to be the last time." He smiled. "Besides, you were there for me too."

"I was, wasn't I?" She smiled back. "We make a good team."

"We do. Black Widow and...the Masked Man," Matt said sarcastically. Natasha giggled.

"Which reminds me, you need a superhero name."

"I'm not a superhero--"

"Bullshit! Come on, help me out here. The Guardian. The Protector. The... Give me a synonym--"

"Defender?**" Matt supplied, just to humor her.

"Ooh, I like it," Natasha said.

"Nah..."

"What, not sexy enough?"

Matt grinned. "Nothing's going to sound as sexy as the Black Widow."

"I had forgotten how smooth you were, Murdock," Natasha said wryly.

And I had no idea you could be so funny, so caring. "I'm gonna be late for work." Matt stood. "Thanks for breakfast, it was great."

"I burnt the toast."

"I kind of liked it."

Natasha saw him to the door. "Have fun at work," she said, pulling it open for him.

"Thank you. And good luck handing in that resignation." A thought struck Matt unexpectedly. "How about I take you out for dinner tonight?"

Natasha chuckled. "Why?"

Matt shrugged back, "Isn't that what people do when they quit their jobs?"

Now she grinned. "Okay, Matt. Dinner it is."

He beamed. "Great."

He was about to turn away when she stopped him. "Oh, wait. There's something--" Matt felt her reach up and brush something off his tie that sounded like breadcrumbs. "That's better. Now you don't look like an idiot."

Matt chuckled. "Well, thanks." He headed down the stairs. "See you later, Natasha. And stay safe."

"I will."

 

---

 

She'd handed in her resignation, started scanning the ads for an apartment for lease, and considered a variety of new hairstyles-- all part of the procedure Natasha had developed when it came to assuming a new identity. Without Magda's help it was going to be a little harder, but she was sure she could manage. Especially now that Matt was on her side. It was reassuring to have him there, and as Natasha started to pack her personal belongings from her apartment, she also began to seriously consider asking him to live with her.

Natasha, you can't do that. He's perfectly comfortable here and was so until you came along, complicating everything for that poor man by walking right into his secrets and making it seem like you needed him and cooking him breakfast--

Beep, beep, beep.

Natasha perked up. That was the alert tone for the secure frequency she had on her SHIELD communicator. As a senior agent Natasha had her own separate lines to contact different people, which had remained intact even after the fall of the organization. The only person on the other end of this particular frequency was none other than--

"Steve?" Natasha said, putting the comm to her ear cautiously.

"Good to hear your voice, Romanoff," came the voice of Steve Rogers, confident and pleasantly surprised.

"You too!" This was beyond belief. "How did you get back on this frequency?"

"I contacted Stark, he had a few tricks up his sleeve," Steve replied. "Hey, if you can, try to get up somewhere with a good view of the New York City skyline. There's something you should see."

Natasha was out the door and up the stairs to the rooftop in less than five minutes. Up there, the wind whipped up a cool breeze and the darkening sky gave way to a jeweled myriad of city lights. And among them, the crown jewel-- the former Stark Tower, newly repaired, lights on like Christmas.

But Natasha could see something distinctly different. Instead of the word 'Stark' mounted on top, there was just one letter in a circular insignia: A.

"Is this what I think this means?" Natasha couldn't help the grin spreading across her face.

"Yeah. We're back in business. And we want you to come in, Widow." He paused. "Well, if you want to."

"Do I ever." Natasha blinked, soaking up the sight of the Tower in all its glory. "Hold on, have you gotten ahold of Clint?"

"Barton's actually on his way as we speak. Well, he says."

"And Stark's okay with this?"

"This was all his idea, actually. Once he found out SHIELD was down he and Doctor Banner fixed up the tower thinking the world would need us again. You should see what they've done with the place...even I'm impressed."

"Thor? Don't tell me you have--"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, we've got Thor too!"

Natasha started to pace around the edge of the rooftop. "Do you have a mission?"

"Well we've run up a list of Hydra activity around the world. But for now, Stark's really just offering us all a place to stay. I think you'll need it the most though."

Natasha smiled. That was Steve, a good friend, compassionate, thoughtful. "So when do I come in, Captain?"

"As soon as you can."

"Then expect me tomorrow."

"Great. Take care, Natasha."

She let herself stand at the edge, just looking at the tower totally dominate the other city lights. Yeah, that tower is definitely Stark's. I've missed the boys. I've missed this.

Then the realization-- and the accompanying guilt-- hit her like a truck.

Shit, what am I gonna tell Matt?

 

 

---

 

He was waiting for her by the time she got down to the landing. Natasha almost didn't have the heart to come up to him.

"They called," Matt said-- not a question, just a statement. For once she wished she had his gift of sensing what someone meant by their words, or how they were really feeling.

Natasha just nodded helplessly. "Yeah." She went right ahead before he could prompt her. "And I said yes."

"I know, I heard." Matt opened the door to his apartment, but lingered in the threshold. He leaned against the doorway, eyes unreadable behind his red glasses. Natasha just stayed where she was.

"What about your job?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll ditch it and run. I've broken bigger laws."

"And you're leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah." Natasha tilted her head, puzzled. "You sound so sad." She approached him, put her hand on his shoulder.

"I am. Kind of. But I'm happy for you, too." He forced a smile, even she could tell that. "This is what you really want, isn't it?"

"It is." She didn't bother pretending to disagree. "It's exactly what I was waiting for. And it's for the best, especially if Hydra knows my location already." Natasha patted his shoulder. "On the bright side, you won't have to worry about assassins coming up here to get both of us. Once they find out I'm back with the Avengers they'll leave well enough alone."

"Right."

She frowned. Time to get serious. "I'm sorry, Matt. I must have ruined everything for you. I never wanted to drag you into all this."

"Well, I never wanted you to find me in that dumpster, but here we are." He trailed off into a weak chuckle.

"I guess God works in mysterious ways." Natasha smiled. "And I was beginning to like the idea of Black Widow fighting crime with the masked man." She paused. Should I really have to say this? Would it matter to him?

She said it anyway. "I was even thinking of asking you to come with me when I moved out."

For some reason Matt looked both amused and relieved. "You know what, I was about to ask you the same thing. I said your fights would be my fights and I meant that."

Natasha shook her head. "I know you did. But would that have worked out, though? Would it have even been safe?"

Matt shrugged. "It was worth considering, I mean, I wouldn't mind it. Lawyer and retail shop girl by day, crime fighters by night, me telling you if someone was gonna come and kill us, you telling me how to torture people or if I had breadcrumbs on my tie," He put on a falsely cheery voice. "'Hi, Honey, I'm--"

The words stuck in his throat, and Matt shook his head. "Yeah. No, you're right. You should go...it's for the best."

Natasha blinked. "That was really sweet." She paused. "You want me to stay, don't you?"

"I want you to be safe."

"But you wish I could stay." She was tired, she was impatient, and she and Matt had gone through too much together to play this game. Even the Black Widow had to cut the crap at one point.

"Natasha, I just...I don't know." He took her arm, just above the elbow in a hold that made it difficult to twist or pull away. It wasn't rough, but it was definitely the characteristic of someone who had studied martial arts. For a second Natasha thought, should I do something? But her instinct told her otherwise. It's just Matt, Natasha. Trust Matt.

When he tugged her gently toward him Natasha didn't resist, and when he finally kissed her she closed her eyes and felt the oddest feeling of relief.

 

---

 

Since his childhood accident, all Matt had ever been able to see was a world on fire, but sometimes the feeling or taste or sound of something could be so unique that it sent jolts of faint color pulsing through his burning world. Right now, Matt Murdock was seeing red. But not just any red-- swirls and tendrils and shafts of a deep, rich crimson. It was the taste of Natasha's mouth and the quickening pulse of her heartbeat, and everything he could feel or sense about her. She was red, and he loved what he was seeing.

Matt felt her hand reach up and curl around the back of his head and he thought oh God she's gonna snap my neck now for sure but she didn't-- in fact, she pulled him closer and deeper into the kiss.

When she finally pulled away, the first thing Matt said was "Wow."

"What?" Natasha whispered.

He couldn't stop himself from grinning. "I could see just then, just for a little bit...'

Matt felt her breath catch. "What did you see?"

"Red." He let go of her arm. "I guess that says a lot about how I feel about you."

Murdock, you absolute dork, said a voice in the back of Matt's head that sounded ridiculously like Foggy's.

When Natasha replied, her voice was laden with regret, with pity, with longing. "Oh, Matt."

He leaned away from her. "And that's why you have to go, Natasha. I'm just holding you back. We're both holding each other back. The Avengers need you like this city needs me, and we have to be the people who can help them, not the people we wish we could be." Matt swallowed. "You know I'm right."

She nodded, sadly. "Yeah, I know." But now it was she who held him, her hands wrapped firmly around his wrists. "I know I have to go. But I'm here right now..."

He felt her lips against his again, and the flutter of her eyelids against his cheek sent those red streaks bursting around him like fireworks once more. Matt reached up, gently cradling her face in his scarred palms. Even when Natasha pulled away he continued to trace the outline of her cheeks and jaw.

"So that's what you look like," he murmured, when he felt her open her mouth to question him. "You're...wow."

"Pretty?" said Natasha expectantly.

"Gorgeous." Matt let his hands fall to her shoulders. "But I knew that. I've always known that."

After a few seconds of silence Natasha spoke again. "Now what?"

He shrugged, somewhat pathetically. "Dinner?"

 

They went to an Italian restaurant that Matt had always liked and that Natasha had never been to. They ordered pasta, a bottle of wine and garlic bread on the side, and they just talked and laughed about normal things, like a normal guy and girl. Like real people did on a real date.

She kissed him one last time in the stairwell after dinner, tasting slightly of wine and aglio olio but Matt didn't care. Then she was slipping away from him with a gentle smile, and it took Matt a full five minutes before he could even open his front door and shut it behind him again, shutting her out as well.

He woke up at the crack of dawn, groggily noticing that something was different. Natasha was gone. He couldn't sense her through the walls that separated them, and when he went out into the corridor he found the door to her apartment open, the space inside empty of people.

But she'd left something behind. In the threshold Matt's foot bumped against something and he bent to pick it up. It was a voice recorder. He found the 'play' button and pressed it. Natasha's voice filled the cold hallway.

"Hey, Matt. I'm sorry, I'm not good at saying goodbye, I never was. So I left you a message. At least this way, you can listen to me whenever you like. Maybe by the time you hear this I'll be at Avengers Tower with the rest of the guys, but I promise I'll be safe.

"I would ask you to come with, but I know you would refuse. You're dedicated to making your city a better place, and I wish I could have watched you succeed at that. I wish I could have been there for you when you become the hero Hell's Kitchen needs. Because you are a hero, Matt, I don't care what you say.'" She chuckled. "So, from one so-called hero to another, a few pieces of advice. Get a name. You're already a masked vigilante, you might as well own it. And work on your outfit-- that black suit is hot, but it's not gonna protect you forever. I suggest a protective armor mesh under durable material, if you can get your hands on it. Maybe something red. You'd look good in that."

There was a pause in the recording, as if there was so much more that Natasha wanted to say but didn't know how. "I'm going to miss you, Matt. And I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't think of you again. Thank you so much. Like I've always said, you really are a good guy.

Good luck, Dumpster Boy. And take care."

Matt found himself smiling slightly. Somehow, the sound of Natasha's voice reassured him. She's gonna be okay, Matt. Let her go.

Quietly, Matt went back to bed, but he did not go to sleep. Instead he folded his hands, and he prayed for the Black Widow.

 

 

Notes:

*I got this line from a few panels from an old Daredevil comic during the time in Marvel history when he and Widow were actually dating. Its use felt appropriate here.

**a reference to the team Matt will soon be joining in the MCU ;)

 Exit Stage Left: a phrase used in theater for characters 'to exit or disappear in a quiet, non-dramatic fashion, making way for more interesting events.' (Wikipedia)

Chapter 6: Epilogue

Summary:

And finally-- getting this out of the way before classes start on Monday. Apologies for the switch from past tense to present tense. This chapter seemed so much easier to write in the latter. Anyways, in the words of Tom Hiddleston: I do what I want. XD Enjoy the epilogue!

Natasha never expects to have to come back to Hell's Kitchen, much less to the building she stayed undercover in for so long. She's sure it's another place to add to the list of things she has to forget, the list of things she has had to leave behind. But one day, after Ultron, after Sokovia, after the battle, Steve comes to her with a mission that will bring her back to familiar territory. Natasha jumps on the chance so fast, it's almost embarrassing.

She gets to the rooftop easily, coming to stand under the moon-cast shadow of the big water tank. The Black Widow waits, relying on the sound of her heartbeat to bring her prey to her.

It's not long before another figure joins her, climbing in from the other side of the building. He lands several feet away, clad in red, masked, and sporting two distinct horns on his helmet. It does nothing to intimidate Natasha-- in fact, she smiles and looks him up and down.

"Looking good, Matt."

He smiles. "Fancy seeing you here, Widow."

She spreads her hands. "Yeah, still alive."

"So I guess my nightly prayers worked." Matt approaches, shouldering a pair of billy clubs. He comes to stand in front of Natasha and she is pleased to note that he stands with much more confidence than the first time they were together on this rooftop. "What brings you back? Don't tell me you miss the Kitchen so bad that you snuck out of the Tower." He tilts his head. "You could have come and met me at the apartment. You know where it is, after all."

Natasha shakes her head. "I'm here on official Avengers business, so I'm here as the Black Widow. And I want to talk to the Devil of Hell's Kitchen." She tilts her head back at him teasingly. "Or did I get the wrong guy?"

"It's Daredevil now, actually," Matt says, slightly miffed.

"Ooh, Daredevil, right. I like it." Natasha grins. "I like the outfit, too. So you did take my advice."

Matt looks flattered, but he cuts to the chase. "So why are you really here?"

Natasha adopts a laid-back stance. "We've heard a lot about you recently. How you single-handedly brought down Wilson Fisk and exposed the crime rings operating in the Kitchen. You're attracting a lot of attention, Matt."

"Oh, am I now," says Matt, with a weary sense of sarcasm. "And are the Avengers gonna lock me up?"

"No." She pauses. "Actually, we want you on the team."

Matt stops and stares and Natasha swears he almost drops his weapons. "Really."

She nods. "Yes, really."

"Why me?"

"Why not? We could use your skills, Matt. The team's new, it's shaky, but it's gaining ground and we're going to need all the help we can get. Steve-- Captain America-- he thinks it's best if we vigilante crimefighter superhuman types stick together."

He shakes his head. "You know that's impossible for me, Natasha."

Natasha nods. "That's why you're lucky I was sent to recruit you. I'd have persuaded anyone else by now, but in this case..."

"I can't abandon Hell's Kitchen. If I'm going to fight crime, I'll do it on my own terms, in the place I know best," Matt says.

She nods again. "I knew you'd say that."

He can tell there's something else she wants to say, so he prompts her gently. "What else?"

Natasha sighs. "I've been hearing things. Stirrings. I'm a spy, I can't help picking up these things. And what I've been picking up feels...complicated." She pauses. "The Government wants Superhumans to register their secret identities. By Superhumans, that includes vigilante types, the Avengers included."

Matt leans against the structure of the water tank. "What are you guys going to do about that?"

She shrugs. "Going by what I know about the team? Some people will agree. Some will disagree. Either way, it's going to come down to a legal struggle, so I'm giving you a heads-up in case you see one of my buddies in court." Natasha frowns. "And if I know the boys, the disagreement could blow into an all-out war. So from one so-called hero to another...you might have to pick a side one day."

She can't see his expression very well behind the mask, but his voice carries a hardened edge. "Well, if you say so." He stands upright now. "And what about you, Natasha? Which side will you choose?"

Natasha shrugs again. "That's the forty million dollar question." She looks up at him. "I don't honestly know, Matt. In the end it'll all come down to which one is the best way not to die."

"What do you believe in?" Matt asks, more gently this time.

She shakes her head. "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it, I guess."

He smirks. "You Avengers and your political problems. Maybe we were wrong and you should have just stayed here instead." His words are teasing, but Natasha senses a hint of seriousness, of longing, in his voice.

"I can't, I could never have," Natasha says. "I belong with the Avengers, Matt. There's a super-soldier who needs looking after and an android who's just-- I don't even know, and a girl who's just lost her brother. If I'm right and a war is coming, I intend to stick with them before we start falling apart. They all need me."

Matt agrees. "And you need them. You're right, Natasha." He opens his arms as if to gesture to the entire city. "But this is where I belong, and this is where I'll always stay. And whatever choice I make, I'll make in the best interests of protecting this city."

Matt finally looks at home, almost at peace with his new role. Almost happy. So Natasha smiles for him. "I know. Hell's Kitchen needs its Daredevil."

He smiles back at her, allowing a few seconds' silence to pass before saying "Heard what happened in Sokovia."

"Yeah. Crazy, huh?"

"Tell me about it. Robot army? I'd rather take the scum of the Kitchen over that any day." He stows his clubs into a strap on his belt. "There's only so much a guy can handle."

"I see your point," Natasha agrees. "It's good to have someone grounded in the normal world's problems while the rest of us have to deal with the more ridiculous threats to the planet."

Matt's next smile is slightly sadder. "See, you and I really do seem to come from two different realities. And there's no room for one of us in the others'." He pauses. "I was still worried, though."

"You were?"

Matt nods. "I'll always worry."

Natasha feels herself start to soften, a cue for her to leave soon. "I'll always be okay. I'm an Avenger, after all."

"That sounds better than a spy who got tangled up with heroes," Matt says approvingly.

"Well, look at us. Finally acknowledging that we're heroes too." Natasha grins. "I really did miss you."

"But did you find someone else?" Matt ventures teasingly.

"I thought I did. But he wasn't you."

He hopes she can't see him blush. "Do I get to guess which one of the Avengers it is?"

She shakes her head. "You can try. Although to be honest, it was never going to work out from the start." She thinks, it was stupid to have even thought we had a shot.

"You never know. You deserve to be happy."

Natasha looks up at him. "You know what? I am happy."

She leans in and kisses him, both hard and soft at the same time, and Matt's fingers are in her hair and for the last time in his life his vision is flooded with red, red, red red redredred and when she breaks away he almost can't breathe. Her heartbeat's still pounding in his ears, nearly in tune with his own.

"Wow," he gasps softly. Natasha plants one last light kiss against his lips before pulling away completely.

"Thank you, Matt. For everything."

She heads for the edge of the rooftop, and Matt calls after her. "So what are you going to tell the others?"

Natasha hesitates. "I'll just tell them my deal with the devil didn't go anywhere."

He nods. "Stay safe, Natasha. Promise me that."

She gives him a wicked grin, he can feel it from all the way where he's standing. "I can't promise, Matt, but I will try."

And then, just like before, she's gone, rappelling down the side of the building and landing on the sidewalk gently. By the time her feet hit the ground she's already formulated a spiel for what exactly she's going to say to Steve: Had a talk with the Daredevil. Nice guy, but not interested. I suggest we leave him alone. No need to mention how exactly the talk had gone. No need to mention that she'd danced with the devil.

And if she had the choice, she'd do it all over again.

Natasha tilts her head to the moon and she says, one last time, "Good luck, Matt." Then she takes off running into the night, leaving the Kitchen behind for whatever the future has in store for her.

Up on the rooftop, Matt smiles, because he can hear her. And he always will.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7: Fic Playlist

After some months, I figured I'd share the playlist I collected for this fic.

These songs serve as beat markers for the chapters and scenes in the story (yeah, I get kinda cinematic like that.) 13 tracks for dancing with the devil, how about that? :)

Check it out here on Spotify. red playlist