Matt slumped on his couch, his head tipped back, and a bag of frozen peas resting on his elevated leg.

He'd had to admit defeat tonight and cut his patrol short. He'd wrenched his ankle the wrong way landing on a fire escape over on 59th, and now the joint was swollen and red and throbbing with a dull gnawing pain.

It had been a stupid miscalculation - a rookie error. But extreme weather had always affected his senses in a negative way. The intense heat trapped within the concrete alleyway and the waves radiating from the hot metal stairway had...blurred...his perception for a moment.

But a moment of true blindness was all it took to cause injury.

Not a serious injury, thankfully. He could sense the ligaments were strained, but none were torn. A bit of ice and rest - and maybe a session meditating - and he'd be back on the streets.

Luckily, the neighbourhood had been relatively quiet tonight. During a heatwave, even the criminals seemed to prefer staying within range of an air conditioner rather than stalking the city looking for trouble.

Which left him at home at midnight, completely unsure how to pass the time. He'd normally be out for another 2-3 hours at least. Having this much free time felt...unnatural. It was too late to call Foggy to get a drink and Karen had left the office looking forward to, in her words, 'soaking in a cold bath for approximately nine hours.'

Going to bed was out of the question; these days he was struggling to fall asleep even in the early hours of the morning, after exhausting himself physically out on the streets. Trying to go to sleep at midnight would be completely futile.

Which left him with nothing to do.

He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

He could read a book. Maybe listen to some music. Or listen to something else...

Someone else.

His mysterious next door neighbour.

Just to see what she was up to. Just out of curiosity.

Not suspicion.

He was giving her the benefit of the doubt, after all.

His justification didn't exactly alleviate the tug of guilt he felt at invading her privacy...but he was feeling weak enough to ignore it tonight.

As he opened up his senses and tuned them to the woman across the hall...he was suddenly hit by an onslaught of adrenaline. He jerked upright, and the bag of now only half-frozen peas fell to the floor with a wet splat. It went unheard - his entire being focussed on what was happening across the hall, ready to rush over there if she was in danger.

But he could only hear one heartbeat - hers.

And it was racing.

Her breathing was shallow and fast, and he could smell the salty tang of sweat. So different from the sweet sea salt fragrance of her perfume. She radiated fear, the cortisol heavy in the air.

Then he heard the click of a lamp, the rustle of sheets, and a sigh of relief.

He recognised the signs - even if he used a different method than light to orientate himself to the present after waking up in a panic.

She'd had a nightmare.

Matt breathed his own sigh of relief and tried to settle back against the couch now that the threat of danger had passed.

But he couldn't relax when the scent of her distress filled his senses. His fist clenched by his side as he listened to her still-shaky breathing as she moved across the room.

What had scared her so much?

The shower turned on moments later and he blocked the sensory input before he could form the picture of water sliding over soft skin, of hands moving across-

Matt quickly got to this feet and limped to the fridge. He grabbed a beer and twisted off the cap, downing half the bottle while he desperately tried to get his prurient thoughts under control and ignore what was happening a few dozen yards away.

He felt like the creepy, gross guy Foggy had warned him about.

After a few more gulps he successfully managed to tune out the more subtle, private sounds coming from next door. Which was why the loud click of her front door opening took him by surprise.

He listened as her light footsteps echoed in the stairwell as she made her way to the roof.

He tilted his head towards the ceiling as he tracked her journey above him.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

He recognised the movement, but he'd only ever witnessed it from afar. Now he was feeling the vibration of her steps as she paced across the rooftop. He could sense the slowing of her heart and the steadying of her breath with every revolution across the rooftop.

Every time he saw her up there...was it always the aftermath of a nightmare?

The shower had washed off the heaviest layer of adrenaline and sweat. Her heartbeat and breathing had returned to their usual slow and steady rhythm. If he was to come across her now, from several rooftops away, he wouldn't have a clue about the state she'd been in just ten minutes ago.

And he felt a spike of shame at the thought.

Watching her on the roof had always acted to soothe him. Her serene presence as she stared at the stars settled him after a night of fighting and pain, provided him with respite. A moment of peace that quieted the devil inside him.

But all the while, she'd been battling her own demons.

And he realised that - up until now - he hadn't truly seen her as a real person.

She'd been a collection of enticing traits - an intoxicating scent, a dulcet voice.

She'd been a mystery to solve, a puzzle to piece together.

A temptation to ignore.

But not a human being with thoughts and fears and an inner life she was struggling with.

His guilt intensified. And he resolved to do something about it. Just because he was steering clear of romantic relationships, didn't mean he couldn't be there for someone who was obviously in need.

As a friend.

———

The night was never silent in Hell's Kitchen - even to those without enhanced hearing. Cars driving past, drunken revellers, shopfront gates rattling closed, sirens in the distance...it was a cacophony of sound that he'd long since learned to tune out.

But it was one that hid his presence from her.

He stood a few feet away, admiring the line of her neck as she stared at the sky. Her long hair was bound tonight in a ponytail and she was wearing a loose tank-top and a pair of cut-off shorts, the denim material rubbing against her thighs as she took a few steps towards the edge of the roof.

So much skin...

He was struck by the desire to slide a finger down her bare arm - just to feel the heat radiating from it.

He shook off the thought and tapped his cane against the ground a couple of times, hoping the noise wouldn't startle her too much.

It didn't.

Apart from a tiny skip in her heart-rate, she was unfazed as she turned towards him.

"Is there someone else up here?" he called out softly.

She leaned her weight against the parapet behind her and cocked her head as she gazed at him. "Yes," she replied, just as softly, and God did her voice sound amazing in that slightly husky register. "It's me. Calina, I mean. From across the hall."

He offered her a wide smile as he moved closer. "I thought so. Good to know I wasn't speaking to thin air just now." He patted around until he found the edges of the flat-topped air vent, then took a seat, the temperature of the warmed metal bearable through his thick sweats.

"You, um, couldn't sleep either?" she asked, surprising him. She'd never initiated a conversation before. But her voice just now...seemed genuinely engaged. As if she wanted to talk to him.

Or anyone.

Perhaps as a way to settle herself after her nightmare.

Maybe this had been the right move after all, Matt thought.

"Too hot downstairs," he replied. "I thought I'd come up here for some relief, but its just as warm." He lifted his hand as if to feel the moisture in the air.

"Are New York summers always so humid?" She lifted the thick mass of hair off the nape of her neck and the action sent a pulse of her scent towards him - her fragrance warmer and earthier than usual.

But just as delicious.

He felt his groin tighten in response.

Or maybe this had been a colossal mistake...

Tuning out his base reactions to her was easy when there was distance. But there was only a few feet separating his skin from hers. The space between them felt charged. Intimate, despite the lack of walls and the open sky above.

Matt concentrated on answering her question, hoping dry commentary on the weather would diffuse some of the tension he felt. "Unfortunately. Downside of living on an island. But the seasons will change soon. And New York in the fall is pretty spectacular."

"I've heard that. That the colour of the leaves is-" she cut herself off and he could feel the heat concentrate across her cheeks as if she was blushing. "Sorry, that's probably not what you meant."

He smiled, to show there was no offence. "Don't worry about it. There's more than one way to appreciate the seasons."

"Tell me." It wasn't a command. More of a question. A plea. And it was whispered in a way that invited him closer. Helpless to resist her pull, he rose to his feet and walked towards her. He leaned against the brick wall next to her and tried to paint her a picture of his world.

"The smells in New York can be pretty overwhelming, and they change depending on the time of years. Spring is floral - obviously. The scent of blooming flowers fills the air, but its a bit cloying. Too sweet for me. Summer is barbecues and suntan lotion and sweat - unfortunately."

She laughed softly at that, and he leaned a fraction closer to her in response to the new sound.

How had he ever thought of her as cold?

She was nothing but warmth right now.

"Winter is more...the absence of smell, as if the snow smothers everything," he continued, though it wasn't the truth. Snow actually had a pretty distinctive smell. As did hail, and ice on car windows, wet wool and frosted breath. But he couldn't admit to that without giving too much away.

"Fall is my favourite. When the leaves blanket the ground, there's a woodsy kind of smell. It feels like you're in the middle of a forest rather than a metal and concrete city. And I love the sound as those leaves crunch underfoot. Then there are the pumpkins at Halloween and the laughs as the kids in the neighbourhood go trick or treating. The smell of thanksgiving dinners. The spiced coffees that everyone seems to carry with them as they walk, clutched between their hands to keep them warm..."

"It does sound amazing," she said. "And you're right. There's more than one way to 'see' it. Can I ask-" she cut off the question and shook her head. "Never mind."

He turned to face her, his weight resting on the hand leaning on the top of the parapet. "You want to know how long I've been blind? Or how it happened?"

She winced. "Yes. Sorry. It's too intrusive."

He smiled. "It's okay. I get it a lot. But I'd like you to answer a question afterwards. In return."

"A trade?" she asked, turning to face him. She bit her lip briefly before giving him a small smile in return. "That seems...fair."

"It happened when I was nine. An accident - chemical spill." He'd gotten used to distilling the trauma of that day into a couple of dispassionate phrases. And for the most part...he was dispassionate about it. The loss of his sight hadn't been the biggest loss of his life - not even close.

But she winced in sympathy regardless. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It is what it is."

"But too lose so much, so young. It must have been hard. I know what its like for your whole world to change as a child..."

"What do you mean?" he asked, intrigued by the glimpse into her past.

"Is that your question?" she asked. "The payment for mine?"

He tilted his head considering. As much as he wanted to understand her better, there was a more present-day mystery he was curious about.

"No," he responded. "I was wondering about your visitor today. Who was she?"

He had sensed a threat in the shorter woman. A coiled strength in her petite frame and a cunningness in her voice. He couldn't work out why Calina had dragged her away from him so quickly. Was it to protect him? Or to protect a secret they shared?

Was she a friend to Calina, or an enemy she needed to deal with?

He'd wanted to follow them to the coffee shop, to hear the conversation that needed to happen 'somewhere private'. But he'd only returned home to pick up a file for a deposition that he was running late for. The client was one of their few paying ones, and Foggy would have killed him if he'd skipped the meeting.

So he'd had let them go.

And the mystery had been plaguing him ever since.

"A friend from school," Calina replied. "I've known her since we were kids."

Her reactions - or rather, her lack of reactions - told him it was the truth. "So it was a good visit? You seemed a little stressed when she was here."

He felt her shrug, and she turned away from him again to face the city beyond the rooftop. "You know how it is with old friends. There are years of...stuff...between you. Some good, some bad. Lots of memories."

She looked down, and picked at a loose pebble in the stonework beneath her fingers. The fidgeting was unusual for her - her movements typically so economical and reserved. "Anyway," Calina continued, shrugging off the air of melancholy that had briefly surrounded her. "It - her visit - stirred some things up. Made it hard to sleep tonight."

"Ah, so it wasn't just the weather," he asked softly.

"No," she admitted. "Coming up here...it was less about finding some cooler air, and more about that." She gestured to the sky above.

"What?" Matt asked, pretending not to know.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She shook her head. "The sky. The stars, I mean."

"You're into astronomy?" Matt asked, finally feeling like he was getting to know something about this mysterious, guarded woman. Everything she'd said so far was couched in vagaries - no details to speak of. But her story was becoming clearer.

She was someone who'd been hurt.

Deeply.

Likely as a child.

Whatever she'd been through had left her with nightmares...

And she sought comfort from the stars.

She laughed at his question. "I guess so." She sounded...surprised at the revelation. As if she hadn't realised that about herself.

"Teach me something," he said, echoing her request from earlier.

She focused on the sky again, searching the expanse. "Um...okay. There's Cassiopeia over there."

"Where?"

She groaned. "I keep doing that. I'm sorry."

He smiled. "It's okay. Show me."

She hesitated for a second, then stepped to his side and clasped his upper arms, turning his body slightly east. Then the tips of her fingers ran down his right bicep, over the sensitive skin of his inner elbow to reach his forearm. He had to suppress a shiver at the feathery soft feel of her skin on his, the deceptively light caress lighting up his nerve endings.

She tucked her hand under his arm and lifted it with gentle pressure until it was raised up over his head. She fitted close against his back and guided her hand over his, her fingers wrapping loosely around his index finger until he was pointing at the sky. She adjusted the angle slightly before she whispered into his ear. "Right...there."

The puff of her breath stirred the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, and he could feel the heat coming of her body as it was pressed against his. He swallowed, fighting against the influx of sensation. "And what does Cassiopeia look like?" he whispered back.

She brought his arm down but kept hold of his hand, gently flipping it over and cradling it in her grasp. "It looks like a crown." She drew a pattern on his exposed palm with her index finger - an exaggerated 'M'. "Cassiopeia was a queen who used to boast about how beautiful she was. And as punishment for this immense vanity, Poseidon placed her in the sky upside down." She redrew the 'M' so that it was now a 'W'. "That way, she would spend eternity with the blood rushing to her face and her skirts over her head."

Matt laughed, and he could feel her smiling up at him. It broke the tension of the unexpectedly intimate moment, and she stepped away from him, letting go of his hand.

Matt tucked that arm out of view and flexed the fingers of his hand. He could still feel the ghost of her finger across his palm, like a brand. He curled his fingers into a protective cage, as if to preserve the feeling for as long as possible.