20 minutes earlier...

Calina picked the lock on the rooftop access door, relying on feel rather than sight. She'd stashed her motorbike in an alleyway two blocks over, then scaled the back of her and Matt's apartment building under the cover of darkness. Suddenly waving a flashlight around up here would defeat all her attempts at stealth.

And she needed to be stealthy - if Volkov's men were watching this place, she couldn't let them see that she'd returned.

The lock gave way with a quiet *snick* and Calina slipped down the stairs into Matt's apartment. It was empty, as expected. At this time of night, he'd be out Daredevilling, and would be gone for another few hours at least.

She dumped her bag on the floor and flicked on the lights...then stifled a laugh at the sight of the new sofa sitting in the middle of the living room - with the plastic wrap still on it.

"...the new couch was delivered yesterday. But I couldn't bring myself to sit on it. It feels like our couch. And it didn't feel right for it to be there, in the apartment, without you...the place feels so lifeless now. So cold and empty without you..."

The suppressed laughter turned into a sob and she covered her mouth to hide the sound. Her emotions were all over the place. And all the joy and love and guilt and fear that she was feeling kept spilling over as tears - she'd spent half of the four-hour ride here crying beneath her motorcycle helmet. Thankfully the roads were fairly deserted, so her blurred vision hadn't endangered anyone apart from herself.

She just...needed to be here. Despite her annoyingly fragile emotional state, and her barely-healed wound, and the risks involved...she needed to be here.

She needed to see Matt.

Yelena had freaked out at the idea, of course. "It's too dangerous! Volkov knows you spent months living in that apartment building - and now that we got rid of the trackers, its the only place he has to start his search for us."

"I get that, Yelena," Calina had argued. "But I still need to speak to Matt."

"So call him!"

"I've been calling him. For hours! He won't pick up."

The moment she'd finished watching the footage of Matt's confession...she'd pressed play and watched the whole thing again, unable to believe the words spilling from his lips.

"I deluded myself that I didn't feel this way about you..."

"You need to wake up so that I can tell you I love you."

"You're...everything."

"There was just something about you, standing there on that rooftop"

"I'll always be here - if you'll have me."

"Please come back to me..."

Each line was a euphoric, impossible jolt of pure joy to her heart. And watching him say those words while clutching at her hand and stroking her cheek and pulling her into his arms to hold her all night had been like watching all her dreams play out before her.

He loved her.

He really and truly loved her.

He'd dropped everything to come to her. He'd put his life in the hands of women he barely knew and didn't trust, and he'd bared his heart and his soul to her.

And then she'd ghosted him for a week and a half.

She couldn't imagine how he must be feeling. He must think she was still angry with him. That she was still hurt by what Foggy said in the bar and was ignoring him on purpose.

After the second viewing of the footage, she'd scrambled off the bed and grabbed her phone then punched in the number she'd memorised months ago, desperate to tell him the truth - that she'd been sick. That she hadn't known about his visit. That she felt the same way he did.

But he never answered.

She'd paced the floor of her room, the device pressed against her ear as she listened to it ring and ring. She'd stood on the balcony and stared out over the harbour, the phone clutched in her hand as she'd tried again.

And again. And again.

But each time it just rang out.

And with each failed connection she started to worry that they'd missed their chance. That each miscommunication and separation was pushing the possibility of them further away.

The need to speak to him grew more urgent with each passing moment. Until she'd finally given up on the phone and grabbed her rucksack from under the bed. If he wasn't answering...she would just go to him in person.

That's how Yelena had found her - shoving clothes into her bag and trying to ignore the twinge of pain in her side from the rough actions. "At least wait a while," Yelena had said, trying a different tack. "You only got back on your feet a few days ago."

"I have to go now, Yelena. I can't explain it - at least, not in any logical way. I just...need to go. I promise I'll be careful. And I'll be back as soon as I've talked to him."

"So you are coming back?"

The hint of vulnerability in Yelena's voice surprised Calina. She paused her packing to look at the other Widow, who seemed uncharacteristically...anxious.

"Yes, of course," Calina answered. "I know the risks about staying in New York. I know it would just put Matt - and us - in danger."

"Good. That's good."

"What's this about, Yelena?"

Yelena picked at the chipped polish on her nails. "I was worried that you hated me. For what I did. And that you were leaving for good."

Calina laughed bitterly. "You're not exactly my favourite person in the world right now...but I don't hate you. You made some choices - some very questionable choices, like dumping Matt in Connecticut and then not telling me - but I know you didn't do it out of malice."

Calina zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulder then grabbed her winter biking gear from the closet. She stopped next to Yelena on her way out the door and issued the ultimatum she'd been contemplating ever since she found out what Yelena had done. "But you have to accept that Matt is part of my life now. You can't keep making unilateral decisions that affect both him and me - especially decisions that serve to keep us apart. If you can't do that, then I will find somewhere else to live."

Yelena shook her head. "This is your home, Calina. As much as it is ours. I'll...respect your relationship with Murdock."

Calina squeezed Yelena's shoulder. "Thank you."

"Be safe."

"I will."

"And keep in contact. I don't want to have to send any Widows to come find you in New York if you go off the grid."

"I will," Calina had repeated.

And in that spirit, she fired off a quick text message to Yelena and Katya: Arrived safely.

Then she shrugged out of her leather jacket and unzipped the heated liner underneath. It had done a good job of keeping her warm during the ride here but she was starting to feel over-heated in Matt's cosy apartment.

She wandered over to the new couch and started stripping off the plastic wrap, eager to have something to do to pass the time. It felt wrong to just make herself at home again after everything that had happened...but she wasn't sure what else to do while she waited for Matt to return.

Halfway through the task, there was a loud banging on the front door, quickly followed by Foggy's bellowing voice. "Matt? You better be in here, you son of a bitch! MATT!"

Calina raced to the door and swung it open.

"Calina?" Foggy's double-take at her sudden appearance would have been comical under other circumstances, but he looked frantic...and scared. And she started to get a very bad feeling.

"Foggy, what's wrong?"

"Is Matt here?"

"No. I assumed he was out...doing what he usually does at this time of night."

"Shit!"

Calina pulled him into the apartment and closed the door behind them. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Foggy raked his hand through his hair. "I met up with a contact tonight, to see if he knew anything about our fear pheromone problem. And he did know something. Something bad."

"What?"

"Whoever's in charge of the operation - and my contact didn't know that, unfortunately - knows we're snooping around. They know Daredevil is snooping around. So they set a trap for him."

"What kind of trap?"

"They're going to lure Matt to some old base of theirs and blow it up."

Calina's bad feeling exploded into full-on panic. "Where was Matt going tonight, Foggy? You guys must have narrowed the next location down by now. Where was he going?"

"He wasn't supposed to be going anywhere tonight. He agreed to take a break - he hasn't been doing so well these past couple of weeks."

Guilt slammed into Calina, but she pushed it aside. There would be time for that later - once Matt was safe. "Regardless of what Matt was supposed to do, he's obviously out there. So where, Foggy? Give me somewhere to look!" She was practically shouting at the other man, and she had to fight the urge to shake the information out of him.

"Down by the Chinese Consulate. But I've just come from there - there's no sign of him."

Calina pushed passed Foggy on her way to the stairs. "I'll look again. I'll look everywhere."

She raced up to the roof and backtracked her earlier movements. Within minutes, she was swinging her leg over her bike and roaring down the street towards the Hudson. She didn't have a plan beyond getting to Matt's last known location then scouring the city - street-by-street and building-by-building if she had to.

But it turned out she didn't need to. She'd only managed to travel a few blocks when thunder rocked the night and a fireball lit up the horizon.

Matt!

Calina stomach tried to lurch out of her throat. But she ignored the spike of terror and steered the bike towards the site of the explosion. She rolled the throttle and accelerated, veering in and out of the sparse traffic at a reckless speed.

Minutes later she skidded to a stop on the street behind the destroyed building. Her throat went dry as she imagined Matt beneath that flaming pile of rumble.

No. She couldn't think like that.

Matt was smart. He wouldn't have fallen for a trap like this. He would have made it out before it blew up. She just needed to find him - preferably before the sirens in the distance got here - and the best way to do that was from a high vantage point.

She dismounted her bike and ran through the lot behind the building - it looked like a taxi depot, with rows and rows of yellow cabs. She jumped up on one and used the extra height to grab the drain pipe of the adjacent building. She shimmied up it onto the roof then ran along the edge, peering over the side to survey the damage below.

But her view was obscured by all the smoke.

"Matt, where are you?" she whispered, her voice tight with fear.

She swore as she saw the firetrucks peeling down the street. She heard sirens come from the opposite direction and swivelled her head to see a bunch of cop cars racing along the greenway.

And then a sliver of dark red caught her eye, peeking out from the other side of the water tower.

"Matt?" she called. "Is that you?"

There was no answer.

On alert now, she inched around the structure, until she could make out more than a sliver - it was an arm, clad in familiar material, holding an even more familiar baton.

She exhaled sharply in relief. "Matt."

She reached out her hand to touch him...and he exploded into action.

He batted her hand away and swung his club in her direction. She ducked, and just managed to avoid taking a hit to the side of her head.

"Matt! It's me!" She grabbed the baton before he could swing again, and hit the nerve cluster in his elbow. His fingers jerked as a result, making him drop the baton to the ground. The move had been a reflex on Calina's part - she'd seen a weapon and disarmed its holder. And a moment later she was glad she had, because Matt attacked her again with a fast series of punches.

She blocked most of his strikes, but took a few hits to the arms and one that glanced off her cheek. "Matt!!" she yelled again, her voice desperate.

What was wrong with him?

Had he been dosed with the fear pheromone?

Her confusion led to a moment of distraction, which Matt used against her. He grabbed one of her arms and trapped her wrist. Then he spun her around and caught her other arm, pinning both behind her.

It was a familiar hold - and one she knew she could escape. She used her Aikido training to free herself and send Matt rolling to the ground.

He sprang to his feet again, but the move was clumsier than usual. Slower, and less graceful.

And that's when she realised - he wasn't in the grip of some adrenaline surge.

He couldn't hear.

The blast from the explosion must have damaged his ears. She'd seen that type of injury before when one of the widows she'd trained with had strayed too close to a bomb while out on a mission. The Widow had suffered tinnitus for a week and never recovered her full hearing.

And she'd never returned to the Red Room as a result.

"Matt?" Calina called, testing her theory.

There was no response. He just stood in front of her looking lost and confused.

"Oh, Matt."

He must be so scared. Without his hearing, he was as good as blind. She remembered what he was like when his ears were affected by the common cold. This must be a million times worse. A million times more disorientating and terrifying.

And she had no way of reassuring him that he was safe. No way of letting him know who she was - the minute she got close to him, he would interpret it as another attack.

The sirens were right below them now, and the night sky was lit up by the flames of the building next to them. They were completely out in the open, visible to anyone who looked up at this rooftop too closely. And she had no way to get him out of here if she couldn't convince him who she was.

"C-Calina?"

At the sound of her whispered name, she nearly cried with relief. He recognised her somehow!

But he sounded so tentative and unsure, as if he couldn't believe that it was true.

To be fair, from his perspective, her presence here was a little unexpected. She took a few steps closer to him, until his body blocked the warm heat radiating from the fire behind him. She carefully took his hand, and tugged of his glove, exposing his bare palm.

And she spelled out a single word in braille in answer:

YES.

He grabbed her hand and let out a shaky breath. Then he dropped his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Hi," he breathed.

"Hi," she replied, despite knowing he couldn't hear her. She wound her arms around his waist and leaned into him, the waning adrenaline making her feel unsteady. She'd spent the last twenty minutes terrified that she would never see him again...

The thought made her clutch him tighter.

He seemed to need the contact as much as she did. He wrapped his own arms around her shoulders and dragged her close, until every inch of them was pressed together. He dipped his head and buried it in the crook of her neck. He breathed deep, as if trying to capture her scent, but ended up barking out a series of hacking coughs instead as whatever was in his airways protested.

She leaned back and used her hands to lift his head up, wanting to look at him properly. Black soot rimmed his nostrils and there were streaks of ash on his skin. There were no major injuries that she could see, but she'd need to get him home to check more thoroughly.

And they needed to get off this roof before anyone saw them.

She grabbed his palm again and tapped out the braille for 'GO', trying to use as few a words as possible to get her message across.

It seemed to work. He nodded and grabbed her hand. "Lead the way," he croaked out. It sounded like he was trying to make light of the situation, but she knew him. She knew how much his helplessness must be killing him.

She squeezed his hand and used it to guide him along the rooftop, back the way she'd came. Luckily, the first responders were all congregated at the front of the building, and the back route was still clear.

But getting Matt down to ground level would take a bit of work. They couldn't descend the drain pipe she'd used earlier - Matt's spatial awareness had been thrown off by his deafness and there was too much risk that he'd fall.

So she found the access door leading to the stairs and kicked it open. Then the two of them slowly descended through the - thankfully - deserted building. When they reached ground level, she disengaged the tight grip he had on her hand and tapped out another single word, 'WAIT'.

He nodded so she took a couple of steps away, ready to scope out the street for any bystanders...but he immediately tensed up, his hands clenched by his sides, and his his head locked at an angle, as if he was desperately trying to hear the world around him.

The sight of him - the man who normally seemed so strong and invincible - standing there, seemingly lost without her guiding touch made her heart ache.

She rushed towards him again, uncaring of the time she was wasting, and the risk she was taking with their safety. She grasped his head in her hands, leaned up, and pressed her lips against his cheek. She lingered there in the kiss, trying to convey everything that she couldn't say with words. She wanted him to know that she knew he was scared, but she was with him. That he could trust her. She would get him home.

That she loved him.

He leaned into the contact, his own hands latching on to her waist and holding tight.

After several long moments, she broke away and approached the front door. She checked the street outside, but it seemed deserted - all the action was taking place around the corner where the firefighters were still tackling the blaze.

She twisted the lock and stepped outside. She raced to her bike and wheeled it closer to the door, then rummaged through the top box for her windbreaker. It was sized to cover her bulky winter riding gear, so it should hopefully fit Matt and hide his suit on the ride home.

She dashed back into the building and shook out the coat. She guided one of Matt's arms through the sleeve, and he seemed to grasp what was happening because he took over and slipped the jacket on. It was snug across his broad shoulders and wouldn't zip up, but it would do the trick.

The last thing to do was remove his mask - there was no point hiding his suit if he still looked like The Devil from the neck up. She reached up and tucked her thumbs under the edges of the mask - and his hands immediately shot up to stop her.

She paused, and brought her thumbs down to stroke his cheeks, trying to calm his fears - it must make him feel even more vulnerable to be without that last layer of protection.

She kept caressing his face, running her fingers over his cheeks and his lips, even down the back of his neck where she pressed into the knotted muscles beneath his skin. She kept soothing him with her touch until she felt his spike of anxiety pass.

Eventually he nodded and dropped his hands, permitting her to remove his mask. The fact that he didn't do it himself, but left it to her, felt symbolic of...something.

Something she really didn't have time to contemplate just now.

She allowed herself a second to smile at his ruffled hair, before smoothing it down, knowing how much the wayward strands annoyed him. Then she pulled the hood up over his head, grabbed his hand again and led him onto the street.

She guided him onto the back of the motorcycle then slipped into the space in front of him. His arms immediately wrapped around her waist, and she smiled again. Her grin widened further once she kick-started the engine and accelerated away from the burning building.

Away from danger, and towards home.

Matt shifted his weight until his front was pressed against her back, and tightened his hold on her. She had the feeling it had nothing to do with the unfamiliar mode of transport, and everything to do with being close to her.

She knew the feeling.

She leaned back against him and tilted her head to the side, allowing him to rest his chin on her shoulder. She ignored the smoke and ash she could smell on his skin and tried to imagine they were just two people in love riding together through the streets of New York for the sheer joy of it.

Maybe she could convince him to try this again, under better circumstances. Once they'd cleared the air between them. And once the Widows had resolved the Volkov situation and she was free to live her life again, maybe they could just...enjoy each other. Without mind control and misunderstandings and explosions.

They could just be two people in love.

The thought kept her warm as they sped through the cold, dark night.