"I like Calina."

The random statement took Matt by surprise. Karen had knocked on his office door moments ago, asking if he wanted anything from the coffee shop around the corner. Her mid-afternoon caffeine slumps needed more than the filtered swill from their decades old coffee machine, so she usually made a coffee run around this time to get a 'proper' drink.

"No, I'm good," Matt had replied. Despite his heightened sense of taste, he was fine with the swill, and was already halfway through a cup.

Karen had nodded and turned to leave...but then paused in his doorway. With her back to him, she softly said, "I like Calina."

"Um, I'm glad."

This morning, both Foggy and Karen had noted how impressed they were with Calina's insights into the mystery drug. Matt had been more than impressed. Listening to Calina unlock the secret behind the drug's - the pheromone's - effects, seeing the proof of her intellect and tenacity and how it had helped them get one step closer to solving the case...he'd been awe-struck. He'd tried to tell her so after his friends had left that night, but she'd just brushed off his compliments with a shrug.

Karen turned around and leaned against the door jamb. "I know things were awkward for a while after...what happened between us. But I like the place we're in now. We work so much better like this - as friends."

"I feel the same way."

"And I'm really happy you've found someone."

"It's not like-" Matt tried to object.

But she didn't seem to hear him. She just continued talking in a slightly nervous, fast jumble. "I'm with David now, and you have Calina. I think everything's happened the way it was meant to. I just wanted to tell you that."

"But Calina and I-"

She started walking backwards out of his office, talking over his attempts to set the record straight. "I'll go grab my coffee now. You sure you don't want anything?"

Matt opened his mouth to try one more time, but she was almost at the door. She seemed ready to bolt, as if she'd psyched herself up for her speech and now that it was over she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

He recognised how hard it was for her to broach the topic of...them. They'd never revisited the conversation they'd had earlier in the year when they'd both decided they'd be better off as friends. And he'd known at the time that Karen had reached that decision from a logical standpoint long before her heart had caught up.

But it seemed like now it had. She was happy with someone else, and wanted him to be happy too.

So now wasn't the time to argue semantics with her. He just shook his head. "I'm fine. But thanks."

The moment the door closed behind her, Foggy entered Matt's office and sat down, his arms crossed. "Are you still trying to pretend you're not with Calina?"

Matt sighed. "I take it you heard that conversation."

"Yep. As well as your pathetic attempts to deny reality."

"It is reality, Fog. Calina and I are just friends."

"Where's your couch, Matt?"

Matt frowned at the strange question. "What?"

"Where is your couch?" Foggy repeated, enunciating each word.

"I had to get rid of it - it broke during the fight with Calina."

"That's what I thought. So where are you sleeping at night?"

Matt took a deep breath and smoothed down his tie, now knowing exactly where Foggy was going with this line of questioning. "In my bed. And before you ask - yes, Calina's there too."

"Aha!"

"There's no big 'gotcha' here, Foggy," Matt responded calmly. "We're sharing a bed for practical purposes."

"C'mon, Matty! You like this woman. You admitted you're attracted to her, you're sleeping with her, you can't stop touching her, why-"

"What are you talking about?"

"You really don't know?" Foggy laughed in disbelief. "Dude, you couldn't keep your hands to yourself on Saturday. When you handed her a drink, your fingers touched. When you pulled her seat out for her at the table - and that gallant move did not go unnoticed, by the way - you brushed your hand down her shoulder when she sat down. When you wanted her attention, you tapped her on the hand. And she always had your attention - you were so tuned to every little move she made. Its no wonder Karen thought you were a couple."

Matt thought back to the instances Foggy mentioned. And viewing it through his friend's perspective, he could see how he and Calina looked...close. But Calina's declaration the other night had left him a little on edge. The thought of her taking her own life in desperation had scared the hell out of him. Since then, he'd felt the need to reassure himself that she was still there. Still within reach.

And his friends had obviously picked up on it. "It doesn't mean what you think it does," Matt tried to explain.

But Foggy cut him off. "Why not? Why can't it?"

Matt tried to explain his hesitation. "She's too...new...to this world."

"We already covered the age difference thing - seven years is not that big a deal."

"Its nothing to do with her age. Because of the way she was raised, and how she was used as a Widow, she has no life experience, Foggy. Everything is brand new to her. It feels wrong to take advantage of that."

"That just sounds like another excuse, Matt. Same as the excuse about being too busy at work or not wanting to be distracted. Why do you keep making up reasons to not be with her when its what you so obviously want?"

Matt got to his feet and started pacing. He was tired of Foggy pushing this. Pushing him. "Why does it matter? Why do you care so much?"

"Because I want my friend back!"

"I am back!"

"No, parts of you are back. But you're like some...shadow of who you used to be. For months, you barely cracked a smile. You didn't laugh. When you're out with us at Josie's, its like you're just going through the motions. You're not there. But ever since Calina came into the picture, I've seen hints of the old Matt. She's good for you. And I think if you let yourself want her, and let yourself be with her, you could be really and truly happy."

Matt raked his hands through his hair. "Foggy...its only been six months."

"What?"

"It's only been six months since I lost Elektra. You don't move on from losing your soulmate just like that."

Foggy leaned forward in his seat and dropped his head in his hands. He was silent for several long moments.

"What?" Matt said sarcastically. "Now you have nothing to say?"

Foggy raised his head again. "Oh, I have plenty to say. I just don't want to get in an argument with you."

"I think its too late for that. Just spit it out."

Foggy threw his arms up. "Fine. Fine! Elektra...she was not your fucking soulmate, Matt."

"You can't say that. You don't know what we had."

"Maybe not, but I saw what she did to you. I saw how you changed because of her - and not for the better. A soulmate doesn't do that. They don't bring out the worst in the people they're with."

"No, Foggy, she loved me-"

"Bullshit. She loved the darkness in you. She loved stoking it, and using it, and revelling in all the chaos and violence that you two wreaked. She loved that darkness, because it reflected her own. She was the ultimate narcissist. And narcissists are only capable of loving one person - themselves."

"You're wrong. She made me feel alive-"

"So does fucking sky diving! It doesn't mean there's no danger of crashing to the ground. I know you loved her, Matt, but what you had was toxic. It was destructive, and you need to see that. You've sanctified Elektra - and your relationship with her - in your head and its stopping you from embracing the amazing thing that's right in front of you."

Foggy took a deep breath. And when he spoke again the anger and frustration was gone from his voice, leaving behind only weary sadness. "You need someone who loves you for the good inside you, Matt. Not the darkness. And I think Calina might be that person."

———

Calina looked up from her book as Matt descended the stairs from the rooftop.

He was back early.

For the second night in a row.

She was normally already in bed by the time he returned from his Daredevil outings - though not asleep. She couldn't seem to drift of into a peaceful sleep unless he was beside her. But she would lie in bed and wait for him, sometimes listening to music, sometimes just enjoying the sounds of the city outside the window. When he'd creep into apartment in the early hours of the morning, she would call out to him, to welcome him home...and he would admonish her in whispered tones for waiting up. Then, when he'd enter the bedroom, showered and changed into his pyjamas, she would check him over for fresh injuries and ask him how his night had gone.

It was a routine they'd established their first week living together.

A routine that he was now breaking for some reason.

She followed him with her eyes as he trod down the stairs. He wasn't moving like he was injured, and there were no tears or visible bloodstains on his suit. But his normally light footsteps were slow and heavy with...something.

Fatigue, maybe? From one too many nights searching for victims of the fear pheromone? Or maybe from frustration? They'd made a break through by identifying the nature of the drug and they were adding to the map of cases all the time, the pattern becoming clearer by the day...but they hadn't stopped it yet. And Matt was the one on the frontlines, seeing the effects of this drug night after night, up close and personal.

It was bound to wear him down.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

Calina bit back her sigh. She'd been hoping that he'd confide in her. Tell her what had changed. Explain why things were different between them now.

She'd thought everything had gone well at the weekend while meeting his friends, but when he'd returned from work Monday evening he'd been...off. Nothing she could put her finger on. Just distant somehow.

As if a wall had gone up between them.

He didn't smile at her anymore. He didn't touch her either. There were none of the careless brushes of his hand against hers that she'd grown so used to. No tap on her arm or her thigh or whatever body part was closest to him when he needed her attention. And he kept strictly to his side of the bed at night now.

Had Foggy or Karen said something to him? Did they not like her? Did they think he was crazy for living with her and helping her?

It was starting to worry her.

Matt said nothing more as he grabbed a change of clothes and closed the bathroom door behind him. The muffled sound of running water filled the apartment moments later as he started the shower.

She could picture him smoothing his hair as he took off his mask, an unconscious habit of his that she'd noticed - and one that she'd prefer he stopped. She liked seeing him rumpled and mussed, especially when he was slightly sweaty after a hard night on the streets.

It made her imagine him looking that way under different circumstances, damp with exertion and hair messed from her fingers as he moved over her-

"Stop it," she hissed under her breath, trying to get her libido back under control. She flipped her book open and forced herself to concentrate on the page in front of her instead of what was happening in that small, steam-filled bathroom...and instead of what was happening in her fevered imagination.

After a few minutes, it started to work. In fact, she soon became so engrossed in what she was reading that she lost track of time. The next thing she knew, Matt was slumped in the chair next to her, freshly washed and changed, with a beer in hand.

She snapped the book closed. "Oh, I'm being rude. Sorry."

Matt shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry for." He sighed and picked at the label on the bottle. He looked weary. And sad.

And she didn't know why.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again.

"Yeah."

"You're back early again."

He shrugged. "It's just been quiet out there."

She went to ask him another question, but he cut her off. "What are you reading tonight?"

It was another part of their routine. He would ask about her latest book, and she would read a couple of chapters to him. Which usually sent him to sleep.

She still wasn't sure that was the compliment he said it was.

His question tonight didn't feel like part of their normal script - it felt like a deflection. But she answered anyway. "It's a book of poems by Emily Dickinson."

"Poetry's new."

"Yeah, I thought I would try it."

"And?"

"I really like it." She flipped open the page that she'd bookmarked. "Listen to this:

'Love is anterior to life;

posterior to death.

Initial of creation,

and the exponent of breath.'"

She sighed as she finished reciting the words. "Isn't that beautiful?"

"Hmm," was the only reply.

"She writes a lot about death, but I prefer this one. I just find it amazing how she captures the enormity of love with just a few short phrases. How we're born into it, and how its as instinctual as breathing. And the fact that it persists even after we die." Though Calina struggled with the 'instinctual' part. That implied that it was easy to love. Easy to recognise when you loved, and were loved in return.

And that wasn't her experience.

Because she thought she might be in love with Matt...but she wasn't certain.

Her feelings had evolved so gradually - from curious interest, to attraction, to a deep caring friendship - that she wasn't sure if she'd taken that last step into love.

It didn't feel instinctual.

It felt confusing as hell.

It was the reason why she'd ordered a bunch of poetry books online. She thought if she could read about love, repeat the words of passion and longing out loud, dissect the meaning behind the phrases and find the hidden subtext, she'd get more of a handle on her feelings.

But she was discovering that she couldn't research her way to the truth when it came to something as intangible and illogical as love.

And she had no one to talk to about it, either. That was the frustrating thing. The other Widows would be just as lost as she was. And she was staying clear of her neighbour, Alma, until the threat against her was neutralised - she didn't want to put the elderly woman at risk.

She had no one in her life she could talk to about her feelings...except the man she was feeling those feelings for.

She bit her lip as she studied him, slouched in the chair next to hers. Maybe she could ask him...

He didn't have to know the context, after all. It could be an innocent question, sparked by the poem she'd just read...

"Matt?"

"Hmmm?" he replied again. His eyes were closed and his head rested against the back of the chair, gifting her his profile. His strong jaw was shaded with stubble, heavier than normal. She liked him like this - a little rough around the edges - and she wondered what it would feel like to scratch her fingers through his beard...

But then he licked his lips and she forgot all about his facial hair.

She loved his lips.

She loved the shape they stretched into when he smiled. She loved the way they parted when he was taking in the scents and smells around him. And she loved the way they looked now, pressed together, with the curled upper lip slightly overlapping the lower one.

She loved every facet of his face. And his arms, and his hands, and his thighs...

Did that mean she was in love? Or merely attracted to him physically?

"Calina?"

"Yeah?"

He opened his eyes and tilted his head towards her. "Were you gonna say something...?"

"Oh, sorry." She shook her head to clear it. Then tried to make her voice sound light and uncaring as she broached her question. "Have you, um, ever been in love?"

Matt jerked, the beer in his bottle almost sloshing out of the neck as a panicked, stricken look came over his face. Calina bit her lip again and wished she could claw back the words and swallow them down where he'd never hear them.

Because his reaction spoke volumes.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to know the story behind it.

"S-sorry," Calina stammered. "Forget I asked." She jumped to her feet and hugged the book to her chest. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight, Calina."

His reply was a monotone. Distant and lifeless.

And she worried that her stupid question had driven them apart even more.

———

Matt glanced up at the sky as a rumble of thunder unfurled through the city. The first droplets of rain fell moments later and he let out a hollow laugh.

Perfect.

This whole week had been a shit-show, so of course a thunderstorm was the perfect way to cap it off.

He slowed his jog across the rooftop, then stopped altogether as the droplets turned into a torrential downpour. Luckily the building he was on was one of the new upmarket residential apartment blocks and it came with a rooftop greenhouse. Taking shelter inside the glass structure, surrounded by the heady scents of night-blooming flowers, Matt reflected on why his week had sucked so much.

It had all started with his fight with Foggy on Monday.

Ever since then, he'd been distracted. And morose. He'd been short with Karen at work; he'd barely spoken two words to Foggy, and he knew his closed-off demeanour was worrying Calina. But he just couldn't seem to snap out of it.

He was too busy wrestling with his unresolved feelings over Elektra...and Foggy's hard truths about his relationship with her.

Not that they were truths.

Not entirely.

Matt could admit that in the months since Elektra's death he'd overlooked some of the more troublesome aspects of their relationship - and of Elektra's personality. Foggy had a point about that.

And maybe...maybe he had a point about her not being his soulmate.

Growing up the way he had, he'd never been exposed to a healthy, loving relationship. As a kid, he'd had no frame of reference for what romantic love was supposed to be. So, subconsciously, he'd created his own idea of what it meant:

Acceptance.

Even before his accident, he'd struggled to fit in. He was different from all the other kids in the neighbourhood - he was the boy without a mom. The know-it-all who was smarter than everyone else in school. And after he lost his sight, he became visibly different. Uncomfortably, noticeably different, with his glasses and his cane and his braille textbooks.

Then he became an orphan, which alienated him even more. And as he started to wrestle with the growing anger and darkness within him, it made him feel even more disparate from the people around him.

It made him think that he'd never find someone who could understand him.

And then Elektra had exploded into his life, bringing excitement and danger with her. She had seen that darkness within him and accepted it. She had accepted him. She knew his true nature, she knew his secrets and the violence he carried in his soul and she'd accepted him.

It was no wonder he fell for her as quickly and as thoroughly as he did.

It was no wonder that finally being understood and free to be himself made him blind to the more destructive aspects of their relationship.

Because Foggy was right about that too - she had loved the darkness in him more than the light. She did bring out his more selfish and self-destructive tendencies. And she'd never understood his need to help others and show them mercy. She saw it as a weakness, and judged him for it.

So maybe she wasn't as accepting of him as he'd always believed.

Which meant maybe...she hadn't been his soulmate.

But he had loved her. For years and years he'd loved her.

She'd been his first love, his first heartbreak, the one that got away, and the one he'd lost.

Twice.

He was right to still be grieving that.

Or maybe...maybe, it was more the idea of Elektra that he was grieving.

It felt disloyal to think that. Like a betrayal of the woman he'd loved. But Matt forced himself to explore the concept further. It felt like he was making a break through after a week of going round and round in circles.

Did he grieve the loss of Elektra? Or the chance of being with someone who knew him so completely and accepted all the facets of his soul - the light and the dark?

He'd thought he'd found that with Elektra, but she'd struggled with his need - his drive - to make a difference in the city.

For a time he'd thought he'd found it with Karen. But she struggled with his need to be Daredevil. She had never fully accepted that Daredevil was a part of him - not simply a mask and a suit that he could abandon at will.

Calina seemed to understand that.

She accepted his need to be Daredevil. And she shared his desire to make a difference in the world. To help make it a better place.

She was kind and caring, and smart and funny. Being with her made him feel safe, and at peace. She calmed the devil in his soul without ever trying to tame it or wish it away.

She made him happy.

So why had he been pushing her away all this time?

Matt sighed. He didn't have the energy to figure that out tonight. One life-altering revelation was enough.

And that's what it felt like.

Trapped inside the rooftop garden, with the rain battering the glass walls and the wind howling through the concrete streets around him, Matt finally acknowledged that Foggy had been right after all.

Elektra wasn't his soulmate.

She never had been.

———

When he returned to the apartment an hour later it felt...different...with none of the warmth or welcome he'd gotten used to over the past couple of weeks. Calina wasn't waiting for him in her armchair, book in hand and a soft song playing in the background. When he descended the stairs - making more noise than usual thanks to his water-logged boots squelching against the wooden steps - she didn't call out a greeting.

He could still hear her slow and steady heartbeat echoing through the apartment - and it was the only thing holding his panic at bay.

She was still here. She hadn't left him. His coldness towards her hadn't completely ruined things between them. But it had obviously had an effect.

He changed out of his gear quickly and crept into the bedroom. She was lying on her side, facing away from him.

Awake. But not talking.

Shit.

"Calina?" he whispered.

"Yes?" she responded, her voice flat.

Fuck.

He crawled into his side of the bed and she made a move to roll over, to give him her back again, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait."

"What is it, Matt? I'm tired."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault that I can't seem to fall asleep without you." She sounded bitter. As if she resented it - when he'd started to like the fact that they needed each other to find peace at the end of the day.

"Not about that," he clarified. "I'm sorry for acting like an asshole this week."

She sighed and settled back on her side, facing him. "You were kind of an asshole."

"I know. And I'm sorry."

"What was going on with you?"

"I was...working through some stuff. But its done now."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

He could hear her nodding, the fine strands of her hair rustling softly against the pillowcase. But he still got the feeling she was upset. He held out the gift he'd brought home for her. "Peace offering?"

"What is it?" she asked holding out her hand, and he realised the room must have been pitch black to her.

"Just something I picked up tonight," he answered. He took her hand and guided her fingers around the stem of the flower he'd stolen from the rooftop garden. He didn't know what kind it was was, but its scent reminded him of her. And the large velvety petals were as soft as her skin.

He heard her faint gasp as she realised what she was holding. "You brought me flowers?"

"Well, flower - singular. And it might be a bit worse for wear after the journey home."

She took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fragrance. Then let out a giggle.

"What is it?" he asked, his heart lightening at the sound of her laughter.

"I was just imagining you in your scary Daredevil suit cradling a flower as you leapt over the rooftops."

He laughed at the image - it wasn't far from the truth.

"I hope no one saw you, or your badass reputation will be toast," she joked, a smile in her voice.

He didn't care if the whole world saw him.

It would be worth it, to make her happy.