NOTE: Before getting into this chapter (SO sorry for the wait, BTW!), please understand that I currently and will always support Palestinian liberation and freedom from genocide. If that upsets you, I'm not even a little sorry. Any attempts to argue about whether or not it's a genocide or anything similar will not be tolerated. Educate yourself, then come talk to me. If you'd like some sources to do so, I'd be happy to provide some.
Currently, Disney (and, as a result, Marvel) is on the BDS (Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions) list after pledging $2m and further initiatives to support Isr*el. I know we're all excited about new shows either upcoming or airing currently, but if you have to watch them, maybe consider
alternatives. While I will continue to write Hellhound, I wanted my stance to be abundantly clear. There is an active genocide right before our very eyes, and it is sick beyond belief.

it's a hustle.

IT HAD been a week, and Matt was going crazy.

"Man, I know you've got that whole Catholic self-sacrificial thing going," Foggy whistled as he turned his phone off. "But this is ridiculous. I can't get him to budge. I even graciously offered a piece of strawberry rhubarb pie. I mean, who would turn that down?!"

'Him' was Artemis, who had been avoiding all members of Nelson and Murdock since the previous Friday night when he had posed as a member of the Russian Mafia. When Matt told him, in no uncertain terms, to stay out of his way. And to Artemis's credit, he was doing just that. Going above and beyond, even. Daredevil hadn't seen a single trace of Artemis out at night, tucked away in his apartment with Kotik (not that he was checking every night). Unfortunately, that included Matt Murdock (and, by extension, Foggy and Karen), as Artemis expertly dodged all attempts to talk.

Lunch invitations that had become commonplace were rejected—"Sorry, but I need to plan for my next lesson. Maybe later?"—and while Artemis was undoubtedly a busy man, Matt knew when he was lying.

One of his students seemed to have caught on—a young girl who acted as Artemis's shadow for two hours a week, her face scrunching into what must have been a scowl every time she caught sight of Matt. He had overheard Artemis chastising her for sticking her tongue out on more than one occasion.

"Yeah," Karen chimed in, closing the meeting room door behind her. "I don't know what happened, but Estelle is getting pissed. She won't stop complaining."

Matt sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "It-it's my fault," he admitted, forcing a smile. "We had a... small argument—" he ignored Foggy's disbelieving scoff. "—but he'll come around. I think."

Karen snorted, dropping new files on the table. "I hope so. Apparently, he's moping like, and I quote, 'a sad wet cat.'"

♘

If anyone asked him, Artemis would say that he was not, in fact, moping like 'a sad wet cat.' In fact, he wasn't moping at all.

At least two others would beg to differ.

"This is getting pathetic."

Damien looked at him with one eyebrow raised as they left the studio after Artemis pretended he hadn't stared at the closed door to Nelson and Murdock until the elevator doors blocked his view.

He sniffed, crossing his arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." When Damien said nothing, he scoffed. "Look, he told me to stay out of his way. I'm doing what he wanted."

They made it to the street, turning down the sidewalk.

"Disregarding the fact that you're not telling me everything," Damien began, holding up a ringed finger, "I also know that's definitely not what he meant."

"Oh, do you?"

"I know your social skills are stunted at best—" he shot back, counting on his fingers, "—you tend to assume the worst in situations like these, and you're infuriatingly petty when you want to be."

Artemis rolled his eyes and grunted when the slight pain in his hips flared, shifting his posture to rest on his better leg. "I resent that," he grumbled, ignoring Damien's shrug as he unlocked his apartment door. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "You coming in?"

Kotik meowed, echoing his question, and Artemis wordlessly pushed the door until the gap was too small for a cat to sneak through.

Damien winced, apologetic eyes trained on Kotik. "I have to leave. Work." He waved over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

Shrugging, Artemis entered his apartment and scooped Kotik up with only a brief flash of pain. It briefly occurred to him that he didn't know what Damien did for work anymore, but he decided it was best not to ask questions. His phone buzzed with a text, but he saw the first name that started with an M and decided to pretend he didn't notice.

Kotik began squirming in his arms, and Artemis let him leap to the ground with a muffled thump right as his phone began to ring, Estelle's photo on the screen before he answered. "Hello?"

"You're still acting sad and pathetic, aren't you?"

Artemis pinched his nose as he sighed before resigning himself to digging out the bottle of painkillers for his burgeoning headache. "You are being ridiculous," he snapped. "I'm acting normal. You should try it sometime."

"Okay, first of all?" He could hear Estelle's rising exasperation over the phone. "You've got this, like, baseline level of sadness at all times anyway. You're perpetually a little pathetic; it's just been worse recently. I dunno what kind of fight you had with Matt, but you two'd better fix it. I like spending time with Karen, but I don't like being on both ends of pointless brooding."

He tilted his head. "Matthew's brooding?"

"Not the point."

"I know," he relented. "I'll talk to him... eventually."

She sighed. "I guess that's good enough. For now. On another note, are you free tonight?"

Artemis snorted, shifting the phone to rest between his shoulder and his ear as he reached for a can of wet cat food in the cabinet by the living room. "I'm flattered, but—"

"Great, so you can go with me to Josie's!"

He spluttered. "I never said that!"

"Too bad! You're going now. I'll be at your apartment in thirty, whether you're ready or not."

"That sounds like kidnapping," Artemis retorted, but he was met with the sound of the dial tone. Blinking incredulously at Estelle's nerve to just hang up on him like that, he begrudgingly finished feeding Kotik and went to his room. Artemis slowly and carefully slipped off the clay and glaze-stained T-shirt, trying not to agitate his shoulders. When he failed, and his joints flared sharply, he hissed, lowering his arms as best he could while still undressing.

Shuffling over to his closet, he grabbed a (cleaner) shirt and a pair of jeans before sitting on the bed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way and paused, taking in the sight of the thick, raised scars that covered his body. The older ones were kept to his torso and upper thighs—entirely out of sight when he wore clothes. The others, the newer ones, a few still a dark pink or red, weren't as considerate. He could cover them up if he tried, but dozens of scars from burns, knives, bullets, or otherwise littered his arms. Artemis held his hands out to the mirror, twisting them back and forth, catching a glimpse of the line of scar tissue reflected on both palms. Most people were smart enough not to ask, but every once in a while, someone decided it warranted questioning. It was never something he liked to dwell on, given the opportunity.

("I was a really accident-prone kid," he'd say with what he hoped was a passably sheepish grin.)

Breathing in sharply, he blinked before resuming his task, carefully and deliberately dressing himself, hissing whenever he made a wrong move that agitated his bones and muscles.

He hadn't realized how much time had passed between getting lost in thought and changing clothes; by the time he was slipping on his boots (the kind with no laces—better for his hands and time), he could hear Estelle knocking and Kotik making a fuss.

With a grunt, he trudged to the door, his boots clomping heavily on the hardwood. "I hate this and you," he told her as soon as he could see her, leaning heavily on the open door.

Estelle rolled her eyes. "No, you don't." She bent down to rub Kotik's head before straightening and grabbing Artemis's arm. Pulling him out of his apartment, she barely gave him time to grab his bag and lock the door behind him.

Even though it was already dark outside, the temperature hadn't dropped much, and Artemis briefly lamented the abnormally warm fall weather. He tugged his phone out of his pocket, eager for something to keep his hands busy, idly checking his notifications. He blinked at his unread texts.

Matthew: We'll be at Josie's tonight if you want to come.

Matthew: No pressure, though.

Artemis's head whipped up. "You—"

Estelle wrapped an arm around his, her grip surprisingly strong. "Uh-huh. Both of you are being stupid, so I'm taking matters into my own hands."

"I can't believe you," he groaned with a heaving sigh, considering digging his heels into the pavement. "I don't have to go along with this."

"As your boss and friend," Estelle retorted, "I'm saying you do."

The word friend echoed in his ears, but he couldn't find the voice or desire to question it. They stopped outside the door to the bar, and Estelle turned to look him in the eyes with an uncomfortable level of sincerity. "I don't know everything that happened, and I'm not saying you should tell me. But I do know that ignoring everyone won't be healthy in the long run."

Artemis blinked, unsure how to respond, opening and closing his mouth. His shock allowed her to pull him more easily, the final shove to get him through the bar's main door. Nelson, Murdock, and Page were crowded around a pool table, laughing and chatting easily, and Artemis suddenly felt his heart in his throat.

In the back of his mind, he knew she was right—he couldn't live his life shutting everyone but Estelle and Damien out, but it was certainly easier. Artemis never mixed well with normal people, unable to properly master the conventions of an ordinary life, and it was usually painfully obvious. He was trying this time, but a voice in his head (sometimes it sounded like his own, other times like people long dead) would constantly taunt him, reminding him he was a lost cause. For a moment, he considered turning tail and running, uncaring if he risked Estelle's ire and disappointment, when Matthew's head shot up, zeroing in on Artemis almost immediately.

Foggy noticed them next, crowing, "Hey! Estelle, you did it!" He was clearly already tipsy—his button-up was sweat-soaked around the collar, and his tie was haphazardly loosened.

Distantly, Artemis wondered how bad it would look if he ran, but Estelle kept a firm grip on his arm, dragging him toward the trio.

He stiffened when Foggy slapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "How'd you get him out of his hermit cave?"

Estelle shrugged, grinning with her chin raised. "Little bit of peer pressure, little bit of brute force." She squeezed his arm once more before letting go with a friendly tap to his bicep.

Artemis blinked owlishly, forcing a smile he knew was stiff. "She can be... persuasive when she wants to be," he acknowledged, voice low and quiet, nearly lost even to his own ears in the crowded bar.

"That's for sure," Matt said as he approached the group, a small, faltering smile on his lips. "Seems like everyone's ganging up on us, huh?"

Artemis knew what that was. An olive branch. It could also be a promise to talk things out later, but he wasn't attuned to reading Matthew's face yet. Still, he wasn't one to turn down someone trying in earnest. The Artemis from a few years ago might have, but he was almost thirty. He had to show some maturity to prove it.

He offered a small smile: an olive branch of his own. "Seems like it. Very rude of them, to be honest."

Matt exhaled, his smile growing. "Definitely." He made a broad, sweeping gesture behind him toward the pool table. "We've started a new game if you want to join."

"No pressure!" Foggy added. "You could always cheer me on."

He glanced between the pool table and the rest of the group before crossing his arms and testing his shoulders. "I'll have you know I'm great at pool, " he scoffed.

Karen, who had been talking to Estelle with an arm around her shoulders, gasped. "Oh, my god! Artemis, you and Matt should be a team! He needs the help; I've been kicking both of their asses."

♘

Artemis paused, probably thinking of a polite way to decline as Karen and Foggy bickered about the logistics of pool hustling.

On the other hand, Matt knew when not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He reached out toward Artemis, his palm landing on his deltoid, and squeezed the muscle once. "She's right. That'd—that'd be great. If you want to."

Artemis turned his head, muscles shifting as he looked him up and down. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth. "Okay, sure."

Matt could hear Foggy roll his eyes, and he made the smart choice to ignore him, shifting his grip on Artemis so he could hold onto his arm. "Thanks," he said, offering what he hoped was a charming grin.

"We're gonna grab more drinks!" Karen called, still hanging onto Estelle. "Artemis, do you want anything?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I've got an early morning tomorrow."

She booed but acquiesced and moved through the noisy cluster of patrons toward the bar, calling over her shoulder, "I know you're helping Matt, but cover my next turn, would you? Wipe the floor with them!"

"You didn't have to explain," Matt told him once they were out of earshot. "Karen would've lived if you just said no."

Artemis shrugged, hiding the wince that accompanied the creaking throb of muscle. "I did not want to be a, what is the phrase? Debbie Downer." His accent slipped through the cracks, giving Matt hope that he hadn't ruined their friendship just yet.

Foggy trailed behind them, setting his cue stick against the table. "Well, if you don't wanna drink, you're kinda out of luck—can't drink the water 'cause of problems with the pipes."

Artemis shrugged, taking Matt's cue before reaching into the bag at his side and producing a small metal water bottle. "I'm always prepared."

"That works!" Foggy handed his cue off to Matt. "Anyway, take over, buddy; I've gotta hit the head. Arty, you can take Karen's turn, I guess, but—" he pointed at Matt, his tone serious, "—don't you let him out of your four working senses. He might be good, but I never trust the pretty ones."

Matt nodded, fighting a fond grin. "Right."

"He reminds me of myself."

Artemis grinned, neck turning to follow Foggy as he left (something he must have regretted when his nerves flared, making him hiss).

"Ah, this place brings out something... special in Foggy," Matt said to fill the silence. He wasn't sure how to bridge the gap now that they were alone.

"You sure it is not the alcohol?" Artemis asked in his lilting accent. He set his bag on the side table before slowly bracing his forearms on the pool table, seeming to study the balls.

"No," Matt disagreed, tapping his thumb on the cue stick, "it's the company."

Artemis wordlessly turned his head to face him, tilted at an angle.

"He likes it when it's all of us together," he explained further. "I think if it were up to him, we'd be doing this the rest of our lives."

"E—"

"Yes, even you."

Artemis hummed, lining up his shot. "It is scary how well you know me already." With a controlled yet powerful push, Artemis hit the balls with a loud clatter, though there was no telltale thunk of one landing in a pocket. "Ah, пиздец¹."

Matt chuckled. "What happened?"

"Fucked up my shutout."

"Um, you're going for a shutout against a blind man?" He asked, his grin growing even as he tried to act stern.

Artemis laughed, the sound of blood rushing to his cheeks welcoming.

"How do you sleep at night, Mr. Bell?"

He laughed harder. "You get no sympathy here, Mr. Murdock," he fired back. "You could probably wipe the floor with me."

Matt hummed, pretending to think. "Well, if you want to make up for it, you can help me find the cue. We are supposed to be a team, after all."

With a snort, Artemis grabbed his arm and led him around the table until he could maneuver his hand onto the cueball, but Matt wasn't done yet, catching Artemis's hand before he could retract it. His thumb brushed over a raised scar on Artemis's palm, but he filed that away for a better time.

"Where are the rest of the balls?"

He paused, air shifting as he looked Matt up and down. He shook his head, huffing another laugh.

"Come on," Matt teased, trailing his hand up Artemis's arm until he could squeeze his bicep. "You wouldn't leave me at a disadvantage like that, would you?"

He sighed, though Matt could hear his smile. "You are lined up with cue; six at your two. Pocket is straight ahead." He took Matt's hand off his arm, motioning with it as he spoke.

Finally pulling away, Matt leaned down, lining up his shot. They both knew he didn't need to be told anything other than perhaps which ball was which, but he repeated the description under his breath anyway.

"Take your best shot," Artemis mumbled, voice low and clear in his ears.

♘

Artemis watched Matthew hit the ball, but it spun out, missing the pocket entirely. He hissed sympathetically. "Ah, no luck."

"Damn," he replied with a grin. "Too bad."

Humming, Artemis glanced across the room. Karen and Estelle had grabbed their beers but seemed content to linger near the bar. He motioned toward the table. "Want another go?"

"Only if you help me aim."

He eyed Matthew warily with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Matthew's smile grew. "Aw, you're not gonna make me do it all on my own, are you?"

He squinted. "Fine." He grabbed Matthew's hand and let it brush the cueball before trying to step back, his hand brushing up his arm.

Instead, Matthew reached out, pulling Artemis down further into his space as he leaned over to make his shot, his face almost colliding with his back. "Keep going," he murmured.

Clearing his throat, Artemis breathed shallowly. "The six is—is straight ahead. Close. Just, hit... carefully." He shifted, eyes darting between the table and Matthew, and he slowly turned his head to face the table, cheek accidentally brushing Matthew's shoulder. Distantly, he wondered what his eyes looked like behind the sunglasses.

"Yeah?" Matthew's hand slipped away, but Artemis stayed in place, barely any space between them.

He hummed, nodding. "Just go for it."

Matthew took his shot just as Foggy was coming back to the table, Karen and Estelle not far behind him, drinks in hand.

"No!"

"That good, huh?" Matthew rose only slightly, leaning back into Artemis. He blinked, rocking on his feet but staying put.

"Sank the eight ball," Artemis said, lips quirking into a small smile before grabbing his water bottle.

"Ugh, you let him win?" Karen whined with a laugh. "Artemis, how could you? I trusted you!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who suggested I help him in the first place."

Karen looked him up and down with a serious face before dissolving into giggles. She leaned on Estelle, who was watching the exchange with a smug smile. "You get a pass this time, Bell."

The conversation morphed into idle small talk, and Matt stayed quiet, content to bask in the sound of his friends' voices. It was brief, tapering off once Karen and Estelle somehow convinced Artemis to drink one beer.

"Only one, though." He turned back to Matthew and Foggy, who were maybe trying to have some kind of silent conversation. "You guys want to play another round when we get back?"

♘

"Sure," Matt agreed readily, sending Artemis a smile. "Don't take too long."

The trio left the table, and Foggy rounded on Matt almost immediately. "We left you two alone for one minute!"

Matt shrugged, hands splayed. "He agreed to help me!"

Foggy remained quiet, and he could imagine the disapproving look on his face.

"What?" He leaned over the table to take another shot, sinking another two balls.

Artemis had probably assumed Matt needed some assistance to tell the difference between the cue, solids, and stripes, but that was hardly the case. The dyed resin had a slightly different scent, allowing him to discern them. Still, there was something oddly nice about the way he helped Matt. He didn't have to; there was no pressure or real stakes. And yet...

"Show off," Foggy scoffed. "You know, it's worse because not only do I know, Artemis knows, and he still went along with it!"

Matt laughed. "Went along with what?"

"It! That weird—" Foggy waved a hand in the air. "—flirting thing you always do, where you pretend to need help."

He frowned, tilting his head. "That wasn't—"

Matt stopped cold, catching the sound of a rapid heartbeat accompanied by the faint burning scent of gunpowder coupled with adrenaline. He could sense a man near his friends at the bar, face turned toward them. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his thumb resting on...

Foggy didn't notice, moving to reset the game. "Don't try and lie to me, Murdock. I lived with you. I've seen all your moves." He glanced up. "Oh, shit. Something wrong?"

"Fog," Matt said, voice low as he leaned over the pool table to move the cue ball. "The guy at the bar looking this way, you know him?"

Foggy was silent for a moment as he turned, searching the bar. "No, why? What's his deal?"

Matt took a swig from his beer and pursed his lips. "Adrenaline's high. His heart rate's out of control."

Their friends seemed oblivious to the man, though Artemis would probably notice him soon enough—his head was swiveling this way and that, carefully taking in the bar patrons.

"Well, he is sitting by Karen, Estelle, and Artemis," Foggy joked with a grin.

Matt didn't find it as funny. "There's something in his coat."

Flicking his hair to the side, Foggy glanced back at the man. "Coat? Hot room. I don't need fancy senses to know he's packing—wh—Matt, don't make a thing." He stuck an arm out as Matt was mid-stride toward the bar. "Half the people in here are carrying guns."

"Yeah," Matt replied tensely, "but none of them have their fingers tapping the trigger." He sidestepped Foggy, who stuck his arm out again.

"Look, if anything happens, Artemis is there with them, okay?"

Jaw set, Matt turned toward Foggy. "I don't want him to hurt himself trying to do something stupid."

Foggy's face dropped, and he crossed his arms. "Just so you know, I'm making a face at you. Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"It's different," he snapped lowly. "I know you know that. He's gotten hurt before trying to help me, and—" Matt cut himself off, forcing himself to breathe evenly through his nose.

Foggy tilted his head. "Is that what you two fought about?"

He said nothing, which seemed to be confirmation enough.

"Huh, so people you care about getting hurt isn't so fun after all, is it?"

Matt clenched his teeth, determined to reach the bar, but Foggy's arm blocked him again. "Foggy, now is not the time."

When Matt sidestepped Foggy that time, he let him go, though he could sense his friend staring after him.

♘

Karen grinned at Josie as she grabbed the beer, passing it off to Artemis. He took it with a strained smile, hesitantly sipping.

"Thanks, Jos," Estelle called as she led him away with a hand on his shoulder, Karen beside them.

As they returned through the crowd, Artemis noticed Matt passing by them. He eyed him confusedly but said nothing until they reached the pool table.

"Artemis, maybe we can have you switch teams every round or something," Karen suggested, drawing his attention as she doled out the cues.

"Oh, um, alright." He blinked, forcing his attention back to her and Estelle. As he moved to take a cue, his shoulder twinged, and he winced, rolling the joint slowly. He put a hand on the offending shoulder, pausing when someone's hand covered his.

Before he could turn around or try to flip the offender over his shoulder, Matthew whispered lowly in his ear. "Can you walk Estelle home and then come back here?"

Artemis frowned, making an aborted move to crane his neck around, hissing in pain. "Yes," he agreed regardless. "Is something wrong?"

Instead of answering him, Matthew, keeping his hand on his shoulder, walked him closer to the group, the strange man following close behind.

"Sorry to bring work into this," he began with a sheepish grin, "but this guy here wants to talk to Nelson and Murdock."

Artemis shifted, catching sight of the man (who was incredibly overdressed considering the heatwave so bad it would convince even the climate change denier of its existence) examining the group with an almost manic look in his eyes.

Foggy grinned, arms spread wide. "Well, who are we to deny a citizen in need?"

Matthew squeezed Artemis's shoulder, who looked over at Estelle. "I suppose we should call it a night, then," he said, tipping his head toward the door. "Care to let me walk you home?"

Estelle rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Sure, Bell." She hugged Karen briefly before grabbing her inexplicably constant companion—her fur coat—draped over a chair and folded it in her arms.

"Thanks," Matthew murmured, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and leading the man and the rest of the group to a table near the wall.

Even though it was still stiflingly warm outside, it felt less stuffy than inside the crowded bar, and Artemis took a deep breath.

"Can't believe they're getting so popular," Estelle joked, half-smiling as they walked down the sidewalk, her face illuminated by the streetlights and passing cars.

Artemis snorted. "That's one way to put it."

She looked him up and down before speaking again. "Am I ever gonna find out what you two were fighting about?"

He paused, considering his response. "Maybe," he relented. "One day."

"It has something to do with your Before, doesn't it?"

Artemis said nothing, staring straight ahead, which was answer enough.

Estelle sighed sharply. "Artemis." He looked at her, and she continued, "Look. I get that you can't really talk about it. I really do."

To be fair, she was right. Estelle was part of a small number of people who could understand.

"I'm in your corner," she said, her dark brown eyes boring into him, "but I'm in Matt's, too. Understand?"

Slowly, Artemis nodded. "Of course. My reaction to our... disagreement was childish; I can admit that. He just has a different understanding of my limits, I suppose."

Her eyes narrowed into a squint as they stopped outside her apartment complex. "He didn't say anything—"

"Eh." He shrugged. "Nothing I haven't heard before. And it came from a place of worry. I think."

"Knowing Matt? Most likely."

They came to a stop outside her apartment complex, and Estelle cocked her head as she smirked.

"You're going back, aren't you?"

Artemis squinted. "What? No—"

Estelle raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

She nodded, fishing her keys out of her pocket before poking his chest firmly. "Be careful."

Artemis rolled his eyes but tugged her in for a brief hug. "I'll be on my best behavior.

He began the walk back to Josie's at a brisk pace, but he wasn't in much of a hurry—Estelle's apartment was only six blocks away. Weaving between other pedestrians, he grabbed the door handle when a hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

"Artemis!"

He flinched bodily, only relaxing when he saw Karen behind him. "Karen, what are you doing out here? You scared the shit out of me!" Turning around fully, he noticed how tense she was, a stark change from earlier.

"What happened?" He demanded. "Where are Matthew and Foggy?"

She swallowed, taking him by the arm and leading him away. "It's a long story; I'll tell you on the way. Our... client that we were talking to," she said, voice low, "was injured. Can you help me get him to the hospital?"

Artemis straightened instantly, and his heart began to thunder. "Of course," he agreed. "How bad is it?"

Karen grimaced. "I—you should just come see," she said eventually. "We've gotta move quick, though. I-I don't know how much blood he's lost."

♘

Getting the client—Grotto, apparently—to the hospital didn't prove as difficult as Artemis thought it would. He and Karen were sat in the dark ER room with Grotto in the bed. Various machines beeped and whirred while Karen filled Artemis in and Grotto slept.

"Ugh," Grotto mumbled, shifting. He seemed to slowly realize where he was and began to fumble for the ECG chord.

"Hey, woah, woah," Karen said, standing with her arms out. "You've got multiple lacerations, Steve. Alright? The doctor said—"

"No," he interrupted, still moving, "no, no doctors."

"Your wound is deep," Artemis said this time. He stood but held back, letting Karen settle him. "Went into the muscle, but there's no vessel damage."

Karen nodded, gently pushing him back down. "Nothing that a few weeks of physical therapy can't cure. You need to stay here."

Grotto shook his head. "That ain't happening."

"We're here to help you," she insisted sternly.

"Oh yeah?" He grunted, eyeing Artemis over her shoulder. "Who th' hell is he, anyway?"

Artemis didn't reply. He crossed his arms as he stared at him.

Karen glanced between them, still pushing Grotto down. "You can trust him as much as you can trust Foggy, Matt, and me. Look—"

"No, I don't care," Grotto retorted. "You wanna help me by hog-tying me to a hospital with a target on my ass? You wanna wait for a bullet to come through the window or pull the trigger myself?" As he grew more agitated, he sat up again.

"You need to listen to me, Steve," Karen pleaded. "You can trust us!"

Grotto scoffed. "No, you listen to me, you daft woman—" He paused, looking between her and Artemis. "Who in Christ's name is Steve?"

"You are," she said. "Your name is Steve Schaffer, I am your wife, Isabelle, and that's my brother, Aaron." She nodded toward Artemis, who offered a small wave. "You got into a bar fight defending my honor, and other than the beer that was wasted when that bottle sliced through your flesh, I have got no regrets, because I have loved you since I was sixteen, hot Irish temper and all."

Digesting the story, Grotto shifted back, and Karen got off the bed.

"Pretty sure the nurse cried a little at that last part, by the way," Artemis interjected.

"It's a nice story, both of ya," Grotto sighed. "But you've gotta run home now. You ain't got the balls for what's coming."

Artemis opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it, remembering Karen didn't know about his checkered past. Briefly, he considered throwing caution to the wind and laying it all out right there, but he thought better of it.

Karen said nothing for a moment. She looked back at Artemis, jaw set.

He gave her a look that he hoped conveyed what he wanted to say. Your call. I trust you here.

She turned back to Grotto and raised her chin. "Slide into bed, sweetheart, and settle in, because we are the best chance you've got in the world right now."

Seemingly cowed, Grotto did as he was told.

"Thank you," Karen said. "I'll be right back. Artemis, keep an eye on him, would you?" She stepped out of the room, leaving them alone.

Artemis shifted his posture toward the defensive. He knew nothing about the man in the hospital bed other than his gang affiliation, and while he could sympathize, he couldn't afford to leave anything to chance.

"Why are you even here?" Grotto asked. "You don't work with 'em, too, do you?"

Artemis sighed. "She said you wanted a second chance, right?"

There was a pause. Grotto nodded, his gaze skittering downward.

"I got mine not that long ago," he continued softly. "I wanna help you get yours."

Grotto stared at him before realization dawned in his eyes. "Who were—"

"You're really lucky, y'know," Artemis interrupted loudly, motioning with his eyes toward the door, where he could see a nurse walking by, "that Isabella and I got you here in time. Those jackasses at the bar really fucked you up. Shame, too—I was gonna suggest going to a different place. Somewhere with a decent white Russian." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, hoping he had conveyed his message adequately.

Grotto widened his eyes, then quickly schooled his features. "No shit? Heard those are pretty hard to come by 'round here these days."

Artemis grinned. "So I've heard. I'm pretty new to the area, so I wouldn't know."

The door creaked softly as Karen reentered, a tired smile on her face. "What are you two talking about?" She asked.

Artemis shrugged as he sat back down with a grunt. "Drinking habits," he replied, stifling a yawn. "I'm gonna shut my eyes for a while." Looking meaningfully at Grotto, he added, "I suggest you do the same."

Unfortunately, he didn't get to rest for long before there was a commotion out in the hallways. Artemis could hear a shrill shriek, and he was back on his feet instantly.

"Oh, God," Grotto muttered. "No, no, no, no."

Karen looked around. "What was that?"

"Someone's come to finish the job," he snapped, trying to remove his nasal cannula.

"Calm down, would you?" Artemis snapped, forcing him back down. "Do you wanna make it obvious who you are?"

Grotto shoved his hands off. "It's too late."

"No, shh," Karen hissed. She stood, moving to peek out the door. "Don't move."

"To hell with that." Grotto unplugged the ECG machine with a click, and it began beeping rapidly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Artemis demanded lowly, lunging to turn the machine off. He yanked its plug out of the wall. "Karen, what's going on out there?"

Karen whirled around. "He's got a gun, a really big gun," she said, running over to grab Grotto by the shoulder, yanking him out of the bed. "Come on, come on, come on!"

They sprinted out the door, Artemis bringing up the rear, and not for the first time in his life (but maybe for the first time in a few months), he'd wished he'd brought his gun.

Gunfire opened behind them as they ran through the halls, and glass shattered, catching the light in shards as it rained down on them.

Karen ran to an emergency exit door, pausing to pull the fire alarm. Another shot only narrowly missed them, shattering the glass windows.

"Shit!" Artemis hissed when some glass caught his cheekbone. He slammed the door shut behind them, ramming his elbow into the lock mechanism to block it. The force made him so dizzy that he stumbled for a step, but soon, he was following them down the steps.

Another gunshot rang out behind them, hitting the wall by the stair landing and only missing Artemis by a second.

"Go, go, иди², go!" He called over Karen's scream.

They burst out into the parking lot and followed her to the car.

"Shit," she breathed as she dug through her purse.

"What? You... You don't have the right keys?" Grotto demanded.

Artemis leaned against the car, watching for the one-man army on their heels, breathing shakily through the pain of his legs and hips. "Not the time for this," he grunted.

"Shut up, shut up!" Karen snapped.

"Is this even your car?"

She found the keys and hurriedly began unlocking the door. "Belonged to a friend."

"Where's he?" Grotto asked, looking around.

The door opened. "He's dead." She unlocked the rest of the car. "Get in!"

Artemis ripped both passenger-side doors open in quick succession. "Hurry!" he shouted, jumping into the back and slamming the door behind him. Grotto fell into the front passenger seat.

Karen started the engine, and with a screech of the tires, they were off. For a moment, Artemis dared to hope they were in the clear; maybe the one-man army chasing them couldn't keep up. When a gunshot ripped the right side-view mirror off, he knew that hope was bullshit. He ducked just in time—the next shot took out the back windshield. With a strangled groan, he did his best to stay as still as possible to avoid shifting the glass now all around him.

When no more shots followed, Karen sighed audibly, still driving like a bat out of hell. "Artemis, are you okay?"

"Yeah!" He grunted. "Glass nicked me, but I'll be fine." Glancing up, he realized they were on a familiar block. "What are we doing here?"

Karen swerved next to the curb outside of his apartment complex. "I'm taking him to the police for witness protection. You can't come with us."

Artemis sat up as best he could with the glass on his back, bristling. "Why the hell not?"

"He's not your client," she retorted. She exited the car, threw his door open, and grabbed his hand to pull him out. "Look, I know," she said lowly. "I don't wanna leave you alone after this, either, but if you show up with us, it'll only cause more questions from the cops."

Wiping the blood dripping down his cheek, Artemis grimaced. "You're right," he grumbled. "I am not happy about it, but you're right." He put his hands on her shoulder. "Call me with as many updates as possible," he ordered sternly. "The second you're in trouble? Call me. Okay?"

Karen tilted her head. "Is there... something you're not telling me?"

"A long story," he acquiesced, hoping his smile wasn't as strained as it felt. "Not one for people who have to rush a witness to the police. Get going; be safe."

"You, too," she said as she reentered the car and swerved back into the street.

He watched the car turn the corner and waited until they were out of sight to enter the building. Once he was safe in his apartment, Kotik weaving between his legs, he went to the bathroom to assess the damage. There were a few shallow cuts on his cheek, and some absolutely still had glass in them. Artemis prodded them gently, hissing at the pain.

Slowly bending down, he scooped Kotik up, set him outside the bathroom, and shut the door, wincing at his immediate crying meows. "Sorry," he called. "Can't have you accidentally getting glass on you, buddy."

Removing the glass was slow, tedious, painful, and altogether part of something he thought he had finally escaped. Dropping the last piece of glass into the waste basket, he let the tweezers hit the sink with a clatter and tied the trash bag so wandering paws wouldn't knock it over later.

Artemis looked back into the mirror with a deep sigh, suddenly feeling just how exhausted he really was. Checking his phone one last time—no calls from any member of Nelson and Murdock—Artemis decided he'd had enough for the night and trudged to bed.

Yet as he flicked off the lights, slipped off his clothes and under the covers, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something wasn't right, but he couldn't put more thought into it before sleep dragged him under.

♘

The next morning, while Artemis was blearily stumbling through his kitchen, his phone's blaring ringtone startled him. Fumbling, he answered without checking the ID.

"'lo?" He asked through a yawn.

"Artemis, please tell me you've heard from Matt recently."

He frowned. "Good morning to you, too, Foggy."

Foggy huffed, the sound crackly over the phone. "Yeah, good morning. Do you know where Matt is?"

"I—no, I haven't seen him since Josie's," Artemis said, preemptively grabbing his orthopedic sneakers, phone shoved in between his shoulder and ear as he shoved them on. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm really hoping nothing," Foggy replied, sounding breathless. "But—hang on—"

In the background, Artemis could barely hear: "Your kid locked you out?"

"Yeah," Foggy said.

Then, "You're an idiot."

There was a staticky buzz, and then he could hear Foggy breathing. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you running?"

"Yes," Foggy panted. "Look, there—" he lowered his voice, "—there were shots fired on a roof last night—"

When he cut himself off, Artemis grabbed his keys. "You don't think—?"

"No, no, no, no, no," Foggy cried, voice suddenly farther away, followed by a loud cracking noise. "No! Matt!"

Artemis was out the door now, running to the street. He didn't know where he was going, but goddammit, he used to be an assassin. He could handle tracking down two lawyers, even if one of them moonlighted as a vigilante.

"Foggy?" He tried anyway. "Foggy, talk to me! Where are you?"

"Artemis, meet me here," He rattled off an address. "Matt's apartment. As quick as you can!"

"Foggy, what's going on?" Artemis demanded.

"It's Matt. He-he's been shot."

¹: damn (more directly translates to "vagina," but is used in a similar manner to damn/damnit)
²: go (the informal command form)

♘

wc: 6.9k
status: edited

Fun Fact: Artemis is good at pool, but if we're talking gambling/betting games, he prefers Durak, which he learned as a child before the Red Guardian Program (Your lovely author, on the other hand, sucks at pool).

Hmm what's that weird feeling about, Artemis? Surely not anything bad...

They're flirting! Kind of! But, uh, the slow burn will continue to burn slowly, so do with that what you will.

Also, really quick, I've gotten some comments regarding my casting. If you want to imagine the MCU cast, that's fine! You do you. I've casted this story the way I imagine it, and as the author, I have the freedom to do so. To be frank: I don't care if you don't like my casting choices. And if you try to make it a problem, I will either mute or block you. Again, nothing wrong with picturing the old cast. Just don't complain to me about it.

Anyway, I did wanna say the amount of love y'all have been showing for this story has been unreal!! I'm so glad you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing this. I wish I could ascribe to some kind of update schedule (maybe now that I've finished my undergraduate degree, I'll have more time, but I'll be starting postgrad in the fall, so we'll see), but time for writing is really sparse. Hopefully this monster of a chapter makes up for it a little bit!