Matt was drunk.

It wasn't a state of being that he enjoyed. And it definitely wasn't one he found himself in often - he relied on his senses and reflexes too much to dull them with alcohol. But some situations in life called for the oblivion of being shit-faced. Like bonding with your new best friend in college. Celebrating passing the Bar.

And finding out the woman you love is a lying murderer.

Matt downed the liquor in his glass - no longer feeling the burn as it slid down his throat - and motioned the bartender for another.

"You sure that's a good idea?" The voice came from behind him, the dry, mocking monotone instantly recognisable.

Jessica Jones.

"Whatta you doing here?" he asked, as she took the stool next to him.

"I should be asking you that. This is my regular joint, not yours." To prove her point, she nodded to the bartender, who immediately plucked a bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelf and placed it in front of her. "Thanks, Diego."

Matt snatched the bottle and poured a fifth into his own glass.

Jessica quickly grabbed it back. "You're lucky I'm in a generous mood, Murdock, otherwise I would have smashed this over your head."

"No, you wouldn't," Matt muttered.

Jessica laughed. "No. I have a thing against picking on pathetic, sad-sack lawyers when they're drowning their sorrows."

"Everyone's gotta have principles." Matt meant it as a joke, but the words just served to remind him of why everything had gone so wrong tonight.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jessica asked, her voice uncharacteristically kind.

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face. The move dislodged his glasses, so he yanked them off and dropped them on the bar in front of him. He'd gone straight home after the confrontation with Calina, knowing that he wasn't in the right headspace to be out as Daredevil. He'd shoved on his sweats then started pacing his apartment, too wound up to relax.

That's when he'd realised he needed a drink. He needed to blunt all the anger and the pain and the misery he was feeling before it drove him to do something reckless. Something violent.

Like storm that warehouse in Jersey and beat every living soul in it to pieces.

So he'd found himself here instead, in this half-deserted, dreary, run-down bar. Which was apparently Jessica Jones' favourite hang-out.

That fit.

"Matt?" she prompted. "Is there something I should know about? Are you here getting smashed because the world is going to end thanks to a shady multinational cabal of evil immortals? Again."

"No. The world's not ending. Just my relationship." Matt shook his head. "Maybe."

He wasn't sure where he stood with Calina now. Was there hope for them? Could they salvage what they used to have with this difference of opinion hanging over them?

Matt laughed to himself. The phrase 'difference of opinion' was doing a lot of heavy lifting - they didn't disagree on furniture layout, or whether pineapple belonged on pizza. They disagreed on the very sanctity of life. On the fundamental issue right and wrong.

Could they ever get passed that?

"You and Calina?" Jessica guessed.

"Yeah."

"Well. Fuck."

Matt laughed again. "Yeah. Fuck."

"What happened?"

"She's a murderous lying liar. The usual."

Jessica reeled back. "What are you talking about? She seemed so...nice."

Matt laughed. "She is nice. She's really nice. And kind, and generous, and smart, and funny. And she smells so fucking good. But she's also a trained assassin."

"Are you serious?" Jessica whispered, leaning close so the few other patrons scattered around the bar couldn't hear. "Did you just find out?"

Matt swirled the dregs of the alcohol in his glass. "No. I've known for a while. She's a Black Widow - trying to go straight. But her former boss is after her, so she's...taking care of it."

Part of Matt knew that he shouldn't be revealing all of Calina's secrets like this. But another part of him knew that he could trust Jessica - she'd kept his secret all this time, after all.

Besides, he needed to talk to someone about this. He needed to lay out his argument and hear from someone else that he wasn't over-reacting. That he wasn't being overly judgemental.

That his goddam principles hadn't fucked things up for no reason.

Jessica glanced around the room again. Then she grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him to his feet. "I think we need some privacy for this. Come on, I'll walk you home."

Matt stumbled out of the bar, grateful for Jessica's strong grip as she guided him back to his apartment. They were quiet as they walked, and Matt used the time to try to sober up - he wanted to be more lucid when he pled his case.

So he breathed deeply, turned his face into the wind, and let the crisp night air shock his system. And when they arrived back at his place he went straight for the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen. "You want some?" he asked his guest.

Jessica pulled a flask from her jacket pocket. "I'll stick to this - I'm not a light-weight like you."

Matt rolled his eyes and finished fixing his drink. Then he collapsed onto the sofa and took a large sip, ignoring the burn to his tongue.

Jessica took the seat opposite. She leaned forward, hands dangling between her spread legs. "Okay, Murdock. Talk."

Matt took another drink...and did just that. He explained how he'd discovered Calina's secret. The nature of the Widow program and the Red Room. The mind control. Calina's escape from that life and the current situation with Volkov.

Everything.

As he finally got to their fight tonight, Matt's anger re-ignited. He stood up and started pacing the living room. "Now she's dead set on this plan to murder a man in cold blood! And she expects me to just stand by and let it happen!"

"Wow," Jessica said, following his movements

"I know!"

"You've really got a stick up your ass about not killing people the people who need killing."

"That's what you took from that?"

She just shrugged.

"And nobody needs killing," Matt added coming to a stop. He rested his fists on his hips as he stared down at the woman opposite.

Jessica screwed the cap back on her flask and stowed it back in her jacket, her movements slow and deliberate. Then she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest, pinning him with a stare. "Some people do."

Matt paused, thrown by the change in her demeanour. Her mocking indifference had mutated into complete seriousness. And that's when he realised, "You're talking about Kilgrave." Matt remembered hearing about the incident that had turned Jessica Jones into a Hell's Kitchen celebrity.

"That man ruined my life, Matt. He stole my body. My mind. And he used me in a hundred different ways. Which fucked me up in a hundred different ways. Ways that you'll never understand. But Calina would. She knows what that feels like. Which means I know exactly where she's coming from. I know exactly why she wants this Volkov guy dead. Some people just don't deserve their time on this earth."

"But it's not up to us to decide that."

"You decide it all the time."

"No, I don't."

"Every time you spare someone, you're making that decision. You're deciding that they get to live. And potentially go on to harm others."

Matt folded his arms. "The lack of action isn't an action. Its only the act that is wrong."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Says who? God? Because we don't all believe in him, you know."

"What about the law? Do you believe in that?"

"To a point. But you break the law all the time - when you deem it unjust." She shrugged one shoulder. "A bit hypocritical if you ask me."

Matt started pacing again, his movements less fevered than before. Jessica was making some of the same arguments as Calina...and they were starting to penetrate. But he still felt such a strong revolt in his soul at the thought of Calina killing people.

And lying to him about it.

And he couldn't separate one from the other. He couldn't figure out which sin was angering him the most.

And whether he could let either one of them go.

———

That anger stayed with him through the rest of the night. After Jessica left, and Matt was once again alone in his apartment, the burning fire in his gut kept him awake. And when he arrived at work, he couldn't hide his mood from his partner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Foggy yelled after Matt slammed down the phone on one of their clients. "Do I need to remind you that he's one of the few people we represent who can actually pay us?"

"He's a scumbag."

"Yes. But he's a scumbag with money. We can only afford all the pro bono work you love so much by occasionally putting up with assholes like Anderson."

Matt shoved at his desk, the pile of papers on the edge toppling to the floor. "I'm so fucking sick of having to compromise like that."

Foggy held up his hands. "Whoa, where is this coming from? What's going on with you today?"

Matt raked his hands through his hair, then sighed. "Calina and I had a fight last night. A big one."

Foggy shrugged. "So you'll work it out. You always do."

"I'm not so sure, Fog." Matt sank back in his chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I found out some things," he continued, explaining about the Widow's plans for Volkov, and Calina's body count since being free of the Red Room.

Retelling the story twice in 12 hours merely served to stoke the outrage within him. But Foggy seemed annoyingly unperturbed. "It didn't occur to you that their plan involved killing these guys?" he asked. "C'mon, you're not that naive, Matt."

Matt picked up the pencil in front of him and started twirling it around, the fidgety action helping him focus as he thought through Foggy's question. And he quickly came to a realisation. "I was in denial," he said, shaking his head. "I forced myself not to think about it. Like that night when Calina was under the mind control - I always knew there was something off about her story, but I let it go. I didn't want to pull at that thread because I was scared of what I would find. I just...I didn't want to go through it all again, Foggy."

"What do you mean?"

Matt paused. Then spat out a single word. "Elektra."

Foggy groaned, "Matt-"

"You said so yourself," Matt interrupted. "The two of them are so similar. And now I'm back to trying to convince the woman I love not to be a fucking murderer! I'm back in the exact same place!" The pencil in his hand snapped as he clenched his fist.

"This is not the same thing at all!"

"How is it different?" he yelled.

"Because Calina is a good person! Despite all the shit she's been through, she's a good person."

"You barely know her, Fog"

"It doesn't matter - because I can see the effect she has on you. Elektra brought out the darkness in you, but Calina brings out your light. I've never seen you like this with anyone before. These last six months, you've been like a different person. You've been...balanced. You've been happy!"

"Because I didn't know who she really was!"

"That's bullshit, Matt. Do you honestly believe she relishes killing people? That she gets off on it, like some psycho? Or is she just a woman trying to escape an unbelievably violent and abusive past who's had to make some difficult choices?"

Matt leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, then dropped his head into his hands. Of course, he didn't think that Calina enjoyed killing, or sought it out. He just couldn't explain why this was bothering him so much.

Foggy obviously couldn't understand it either. Matt could sense him shaking his head as he looked at him from across the desk. "I don't get it, Matt. I thought you'd become less...rigid...about this over the past year. Karen thought so too - that's why she finally felt like she could tell you what happened between her and Wesley. And it didn't affect your friendship, did it? You didn't think less of her because of what she did?"

"No," Matt admitted, clenching fistfuls of his hair.

"And Jessica Jones. You're friends with her - as much as anyone can be friends with her - and she very publicly and famously killed someone."

"I know," he ground out.

"So what's going on? Why is it so different with Calina?"

Matt suddenly exploded out of his chair. "Because she lied to me! She lied to me for months about killing a man 30 feet away from my apartment. And if I hadn't asked about Volkvo she would have lied about that too. She lies so easily, its like breathing for her."

Foggy cocked his head, and studied Matt for a few beats. "What bothers you more - the lying or the fact that you couldn't tell?"

"Why does that matter?"

"The majority of the human race isn't a walking lie-detector like you, Matt. We have to live with never knowing if someone is telling the truth. We have to take what people say on faith. I thought a good Catholic like you would be more used to that."

"Get to the point," Matt said, through gritted teeth.

"The point is, it seems you're blaming her as much for her ability to lie, as the lies themselves. And its not exactly her fault that she can lie so well - its the way she was trained."

"But she still lied, Foggy."

"I know. And you have a right to be angry about that. You just need to decide if you can forgive her. And whether you can trust her going forward - without the crutch of bring able to monitor her heart rate or whatever it is you do to pick up lies. Do you think that's possible?"

Matt closed his eyes and hung his head, his anger dissipating. It had been nothing more than a smoke screen, really. A distraction from what he'd really been feeling:

Fear.

Because he didn't know if he could trust Calina ever again.

And he was terrified of what that meant for them.

———

Matt's fist hit the leather punching bag with a satisfying slap.

The impact on his bare knuckles was just the kind of pain he was looking for, and he relished the sting from his split skin as he hit the bag again. And again. And again.

Then he kicked it, hard enough to send it swinging away from him, and followed up with a fierce one-two jab. He bounced lightly on his feet, sparring with the inanimate object, whilst trying with every bit of his strength to ignore the scent swirling in the air around him.

He'd arrived at Fogwell's an hour ago, after Foggy had kicked him out of the office. Apparently, he was too much of a liability to the firm in his 'current emotional state'. In other words, Foggy didn't want him jeopardising another one of their revenue streams.

So he'd headed straight for the gym, knowing that his mind always worked through a problem best when he was in motion. Even better when he was hitting something. But, unfortunately, the moment he'd entered the old building, Calina's lingering fragrance had hit him.

Which did nothing to improve his thought processes...or his 'emotional state'.

He'd tried to block it out as much as he could while he got changed and started his work-out, but after so many weeks living apart, his sensitivity to her - her smell, the sound of her voice, the cadence of her heart beat - had magnified. Like a cell phone searching for a signal in a black spot, a part of his mind had always been tuned to her, subconsciously seeking her out everywhere he went - in a crowd on the street; in the queue at the coffee shop; on his rooftop at night.

Which meant there was no escape from the torment of her phantom presence in this musty old gym.

Matt stepped away from the bag with a growl of frustration. It didn't help that this was the site of their fight last night. He could still taste the adrenaline on the air. The angry, bitter words still seemed to echo off the walls.

He could still hear the sound of Calina's footsteps as she walked away.

The argument replayed itself in his mind as he sat on the edge of the boxing ring, the sweat cooling on his skin.

And he kept coming back to one thing. A confession from Calina that had shocked him in the moment, but which he hadn't fully processed until now:

"They strapped us down and ripped out our reproductive organs. Because we were just things to them. To men like Volkov, we were nothing."

Matt scrubbed his hands over his face as the horrific words rang out in his mind. He'd seen some barbaric stuff over the years, acts of cruelty that had him questioning his faith in humanity and a higher power. But he'd never heard of anything so callously and brutally inhumane.

And the fact that it had happened to his Calina...it was unspeakably awful. He kept picturing her as a teenager, strapped to a gurney as she was violated in that way...

It made him sick.

And it proved her point.

They did come from two very different worlds. And they had lived very different lives. Which meant he had no right to pass judgement on her actions. To question how she found justice or ensured her safety.

No right at all.

But did it change anything?

He'd already realised earlier today that her decision to kill Volkov and his men wasn't the main issue they faced.

It was the lies.

Or more accurately, it was the lack of trust between them - on both sides. He couldn't trust that she was telling him the truth. And she couldn't trust him to handle her darker secrets.

Matt lay back on the floor of the ring, his head resting on a crooked arm, as he tried to work through his end of the problem.

Could he trust her? Without the crutch of his abilities, could he ever take what she said on faith again?

He just didn't know.

He'd been burned too many times in the past by the people he loved. It had started as far back as he could remember with his Dad, and the lies about his mother. Then his mother had perpetuated those lies after he'd been taken in by the orphanage. Father Lantom had helped. Then there was Stick, and Elektra...

His ability to believe in people had been eroded, bit by bit, over decades. With each newly uncovered lie, with every sin of omission and act of betrayal, the last vestiges of his trust had been shaved away, until he was just a mass of jagged edges.

He'd thought those edges had finally started to smooth out thanks to Calina. He'd found himself opening up to her, letting himself be vulnerable.

Only to be betrayed again.

Could he forgive that and move on? Could he learn to trust her - fully and completely?

If not...what was the alternative?

Matt forced himself to imagine that alternative - a life without Calina. A future without her. No more warm presence in his apartment. No more talks over dinner. No more lazy evenings on the couch, his head in her lap while she read to him. No more sparring in the gym, or laughing beneath the sheets of his bed.

Her scent...gone. Her soft skin...gone. That feeling that he'd had almost from the moment they'd met, of a kindred spirit, someone who understood him, someone he could cherish and build a life with...all gone.

It was unbearable.

He rubbed at his chest, the thought of that emptiness, that loss, causing a physical pain deep in his soul.

What they had was too precious, too special to throw away so easily. He wanted to be with her. Despite her actions, he still loved her.

No, that wasn't fair.

Her actions had shaped her into the woman he'd fallen in love with. He couldn't dismiss them so easily.

And he did love her. He loved her bravery. He loved her mind, and her sweet, kind nature. He loved her loyalty to her sisters, and her off-beat humour, and her wide-eyed wonder at the world.

And, yes, he may have once held her on a pedestal - she was right to accuse him of that. But the plinth beneath her feet had crumbled...and he loved her still. Despite of it, and because of it.

And he didn't want to lose her.

He would accept her decision regarding Volkov. And he would try like hell to trust her going forward. Because she didn't deserve to bear the brunt of a lifetime of broken trust.

He need to get over it. If he had any hope of happiness, he needed to fucking get over it.

Matt quickly sat up and started rummaging through his gym bag for his phone. They needed to talk. It was time to really talk - not just argue and go around in circles. They needed to clear the air and get their relationship back on track.

Because he couldn't lose her.

It was as simple as that.

Finally locating the device, Matt dialled her number, and waited to hear her beautiful voice.