Matt breathed in the scent of gardenias, and could almost feel Father Lantom sitting next to him.

Scent was inextricably linked to memory. Thanks to a quirk of the brain's anatomy, emotional recollections could be sparked by the most innocuous fragrances. For Matt - whose sense of smell was so heightened and finely-honed - those recollections could be as vivid as flashbacks, transporting him fully and completely back to a specific moment in time.

The creamy, zesty aroma of the flowers planted behind him recreated that moment years ago of meeting Father Lantom on this bench outside Clinton Church. The priest had recognised him that day, both as Jack Murdock's kid - the orphan he'd known as as a child - and as the man who'd confessed to future crimes a few days before under the sacrament of penance.

As Father Lantom had sat beside him that day, Matt had shifted on the bench, feeling uncomfortable and exposed, as if all his secrets had been laid bare. But he hadn't sensed judgement in the older man's voice or words. Just compassion. A need for understanding. An offer of help.

It had been the first step in their relationship. And the first time Matt had felt that maybe his soul wasn't damned. That maybe he could find forgiveness for the violence and anger in his heart. Or, at the very least, there was someone in this world he could talk to. Someone who's conscience could guide his own.

He had much less need for that now. He'd reconciled that violent and angry part of himself. He'd found peace with the man he was, and knew his conscience and faith could withstand the crucibles his life as Daredevil created.

But he still missed those conversations with Father Lantom on this bench, outside this church.

He tipped his head back and breathed in the scent. He listened to the rustle of the trees and the shouts of the children playing across the street. And when he heard the sound of a familiar set of footsteps coming towards him, he smiled.

"Hello, Maggie."

"Hello, Matthew," his mother replied, sitting down beside him.

They were silent for a couple of minutes, both enjoying the warm, sunny spring day.

"You don't look like a man in need of spiritual or moral guidance," Maggie mused. "In fact, you look like a man without a care in the world."

Matt laughed. "If only."

He had one very important and pressing 'care' - and its name was Landon Cross. His days and nights were consumed by him - trailing him across the city, documenting his every step and his every connection, researching his family, trying to get inside his head...

All with the goal of making him pay for the lives he'd taken and ruined in the pursuit of his revenge.

It wouldn't be an easy task. Or a quick one. And it wouldn't leave time for much else in his life for the foreseeable future. Which explained his presence on this bench. "I'm working on something big at the moment, and I won't be around as much. I just wanted to let you know, in case you...worried."

He still wasn't used to the fact that he had a mother who worried about him. But ever since Christmas, he'd been making the effort to build a relationship with her. He usually dropped by the church once every couple of weeks to see her. They'd only chat for a few minutes at a time, but with each encounter, he felt the tension and distance between them lessen. They'd probably never have a typical mother-son relationship, but he was glad to have her in his life.

"Thank you for letting me know," she replied. "But I do hope this 'big thing' you're working on won't end with another building collapsing down on top of you."

"Hopefully not," he laughed again. He felt good today. Despite the stress of juggling work with investigating Cross; despite the late nights and long days; despite not getting enough time with Calina...

He didn't know if it was a 'calm before the storm' type of thing, or whether he'd just finally learned to appreciate and seek out the brief moments of joy that he needed to balance the darkness in his life. Whatever it was, he felt good.

Content.

Happy, even.

He finally had a name and face behind the pheromone plot, and the start of a plan to take him down. He had his friends. He was making a difference with his firm for the people of Hell's Kitchen. He had his mother in his life.

And he had Calina.

Most importantly of all, he had Calina. He had a woman he loved and cherished. A woman he would die for, and a woman he wanted to live for. A woman he was building a life with, and planning a future for.

Speaking of which... "When this is all over, I want you to meet Calina."

He heard Maggie's breath catch, and knew that she understood the enormity of what he'd just offered. It was a big step in their fledgling, tentative relationship. Matt had mentioned Calina to her often, but had never broached the subject of them meeting before.

But it was time.

"I- I'd like that very much," Maggie replied, her voice thick with emotion.

"Good." Matt got to his feet and grasped his cane between both hands. "I'll see you around, then." He lingered on the sidewalk for a few seconds, never knowing the appropriate way to end their little chats. A handshake was too formal. A kiss on the cheek was too informal, and calling her 'Mom' was a far off milestone that they might never reach.

So he just gave her a little nod and set off back to the office.

And that's when his quiet, happy little spring day interlude took a turn for the bizarre and terrifying.

It started with a strange mechanical whirring noise in the distance. Matt paused on the sidewalk, and cocked his head, trying to place the sound. It was coming from north of his location, many blocks away, but he couldn't work out what it was. He'd never heard anything like it.

Frowning, he resumed his walk, subconsciously picking up his pace, as if his primitive hindbrain was warning him of danger. Within minutes, the blaring chorus of multiple sirens rang out from the same direction as the mechanical sound.

Matt froze again. Another pedestrian bumped into him as Matt suddenly came to a halt. "Hey, watch it, man," the pedestrian said, oblivious to the chaos unfolding just a few miles away.

"Sorry," Matt mumbled, his attention locked onto that chaos. He moved out of the path of the foot traffic and closed his eyes, straining his hearing to try to work out what was going on.

He heard the faint sounds of people screaming. Of cars screeching as they came to a sudden halt. Then...an explosion. Another. Concrete hitting the ground, and windows shattering...

He started walking again, then quickly sped up into a jog, then took off running, his gut telling him to get to the office NOW. Calina was there, helping with the Cross research, and he needed to get to her. Whatever this was...if the danger spread to Hell's Kitchen...

He needed to get to her.

He raced to the end of the street and ran across the road, narrowly avoiding an oncoming bus. He turned left and kept running, not giving a damn if people realised he was blind and shouldn't be able to move so quickly and assuredly. He pulled his phone from his pocket and speed-dialled Calina as he ran, but the call never went through.

"Network error. System overload."

Matt picked up his pace, the automated message proving to him that something was seriously wrong in New York.

He turned down another street, then reeled to a halt. A line of police cars barricaded the road. The sirens were silent, but he could hear the emergency lights spinning as they lit up the street. Then he heard footsteps thundering down the blocked-off road, and people panting with the exertion of fleeing. The adrenaline spiking their blood saturated his senses.

He grabbed the shoulder of one of the runners as they staggered through the police cordon and collapsed onto the curb. "What is it? What's going on?"

The man looked up at him, swallowed harshly and shook his head, as if in disbelief. "It's another fucking invasion."

"What?"

"There's a giant fucking spaceship hovering over the Greenwich Village. Everyone south of 43rd street has been evacuated. I was in my fucking dentist's waiting room when the cops barged in telling us to get the hell out. I ran out on to the street, and I could see the explosions in the distance. And the giant fucking spaceship!"

Matt's head spun. "You said explosions - are they attacking us?" He didn't know what to do. His instincts were warring inside him - head into the fray to help...or get to Calina?

It didn't feel right to run in the opposite direction to the threat...but, realistically, what could he do against spaceships and aliens? He was just one man with a cane.

The runner slumped on the curb shook his head. "Someone said Iron Man was there. I guess the Avengers are taking care of it - again. I didn't even know they were still a thing. I thought-"

Matt ignored the rest of the man's rambling, his decision made for him - if the Avengers were on the scene and dealing with it, he'd head for Hell's Kitchen. He'd make sure Calina was safe, and he'd assess the situation in his own neighbourhood - the streets and avenues that he knew like the back of his hand. He'd be far more effective there.

So he started running again, relieved that he was only a few streets away.

But despite the short distance, it ended up taking him more than 20 minutes to reach the office. Another street was completely cordoned off, and he had to detour through an alleyway...where he discovered a thief trying to take advantage of the confusion and the distracted police by robbing a convenience store. Matt passed by the back entrance to the shop and heard the thief yell at the staff behind the counter to open the cash register. He heard the sound of a gun being cocked and the frightened gasps of the other customers.

Matt growled in frustration. But he wasn't surprised. He'd been Daredevil long enough to know that there would always be people ready to be the worst versions of themselves, no matter the situation.

He quietly pulled open the back door and snuck into the small staff area behind the store. He found a scarf hanging on a hook with a couple of coats, and wrapped it around his face, grimacing at the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to the fabric.

Then he stalked into the store, straight up one of the food aisles, and right towards the gunman. The armed thief turned at the sound of Matt's dress shoes on the linoleum tiles, but he wasn't quick enough to react. Matt disarmed him in two moves, wrestled him to the ground and pinned him there with a knee in the small of his back.

"Holy shit, dude," one of the customers exclaimed. "That was awesome!"

Matt ignored the praise. "Someone call the cops, and grab me something to tie him with," he growled, his patience gone.

The other customers sprang into action. He heard phones being dialled, and he was handed a belt and a necktie. He made short work of restraining the would-be thief, rose from his crouch and turned to leave.

"Wait!" a female shopped called out. "I can't get through to 911."

"Me neither," someone else added. "There's an automated message saying they're busy dealing with a city-wide emergency. What the hell is going on?"

Matt could feel the panic start to pour off them. Their heartbeats escalated, a stuttering, thrumming chorus of fear. But Matt had no words of comfort - not when he barely knew what was going on, and when his every instinct was screaming at him to get to Calina. "There's been an attack in Greenwich Village. I think everyone should get off the street and try to get home to their loved ones."

Matt left them to deal with that news, and continued on his journey, relieved when he started to pick up the familiar sounds and smells of Hell's Kitchen. A few minutes later he reached the building housing Murdock, Nelson & Page, and raced up the stairs to the office.

"Calina?" he yelled, barging through the glass door. "Foggy? Karen? Is everyone okay?"

"In here," Foggy replied. "We're okay."

Matt followed the sound of his friend's voice to the conference room. Foggy and Karen were seated at the large table, a laptop between them blaring a news alert.

But there was no sign of Calina.

"Where's Calina? She was supposed to be here this morning working the Cross case."

"She went to the library, remember? She was going to check out those archived newspaper clippings from the 80s."

Matt scrubbed a hand down his face. "Shit, I forgot. I need to go find her. I need-"

"Wait, just take a breath, Matt," Karen said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You look like hell. What happened?"

Matt shook off her concern. "What happened? That's what happened!" He pointed a finger at the laptop, where he could hear the sounds of explosions and terrified on-lookers coming through the tinny speakers. The cacophony of panic was followed by a news anchor's report:

"This footage was sent to the studio by a member of the public, who was in the vicinity when the attack began. As you can see, the large wheel-shaped spaceship hovering above Greenwich Village has a very different appearance to the Chitauri vessels which caused so much damage in 2012, but we're still waiting for the official response from the government about whether these two events are linked..."

"Wait, were you there?" Foggy asked.

"No. Not really. But I heard it happening. And I need to make sure Calina's safe, and we need to find a place for you guys to hold up until its over-"

"It is over."

"What?"

"It's over, man. The spaceship is gone. They're reporting on some street-level damage and a few fatalities, but this is not like before. Its not another Battle of New York."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Foggy closed the laptop, cutting off the sound. "The news is just doing what the news does - endlessly replaying footage and speculating wildly. But it was all over as quickly as it began. Calina is safe. We're safe. Listen if you don't believe me."

Matt nodded. He closed his eyes and allowed the sounds of the neighbourhood to permeate. Then he stretched out his hearing to listen to the blocks and blocks beyond Hell's Kitchen. He let the sounds invade, unfiltered and overwhelming, until his skull threatened to split apart under the pain of it. But the extended range allowed him to gauge the mood of the City.

It was fearful.

Confused and concerned.

But there was no evidence of acute terror or destruction. No explosions or blasts or gunfire. No mechanical whirring sound from the space ship. In fact, the skies were eerily quiet, as all air traffic was grounded.

Foggy was right. It was over. Matt rubbed his aching head and collapsed into a nearby chair.

"You good, man?" Foggy asked.

"Yeah." Matt pulled out his phone again and hit re-dial, exhaling in relief when the number connected this time.

"Matt?" Calina answered, her voice high and breathy with worry.

"It's me."

"Oh, thank God."

"I thought you didn't believe in God," he replied, barely aware of what he was saying - he was just so relieved to be talking to her.

"Well, aliens are back, so anything feels possible."

He laughed, but the sound was strained, his body still riding the adrenaline high that had fuelled him for the past half hour. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I am now."

"Is this going to mess with our plans tonight?"

Matt laughed again, more genuinely this time. "Is that what you're worried about?"

"Well, we haven't had a proper date in ages, and I was looking forward to trying this restaurant. But do you think they'll close down for the night?"

"I doubt it, sweetheart. This is New York - its a pretty resilient town."

———

Matt was right.

When they arrived at the restaurant later that evening, it was still open. In fact, it was bustling with people, proving Matt's point that a little alien attack wasn't going to stop a bunch of New Yorkers from making their dinner reservations.

But despite the turnout, the mood was still relatively somber, the topic of almost every conversation focussed on the events of that morning, and the subsequent disappearance of Tony Stark. The billionaire Avenger had been declared missing since the departure of the spacecraft, with most speculating that he'd been taken on board.

"Do the Widows have an inside line on that?" Matt asked Calina after letting her in on the prevailing theory in the room.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a Widow on the Avengers team, isn't there? Have you heard from her about what's going on?"

"Natasha? No. She's not with the Avengers anymore - she's on the run from the government, so we don't hear from her much. Which is hard on Yelena."

"Why just Yelena?"

"Because they're sisters. Proper sisters. Well, not biologically, but they grew up together."

"Really?"

"Yeah. As part of a sleeper agent mission. Two parents and two kids posing as a wholesome family in middle America. Yelena and Natasha were the kids. Only Yelena thought it was real - that they were her real family. It fell apart when she was 6, and she was sent to the Red Room to begin training."

"Jesus, that's fucked up." And it explained a lot about Yelena, Matt thought. Her bitterness. Her cynicism about love. And her desire to keep her found family - her Widow sisters - safe and together.

"Yeah," Calina agreed. "But they found each other again after Yelena managed to free herself from the serum. And the two of them together took down the Red Room. Literally."

Matt heard the smirk in Calina's voice as she said the last word, and wondered what the joke was. "What am I missing?"

"The Red Room was a high-altitude floating fortress. It hid in the skies above Russia, constantly moving, constantly avoiding detection. Until Yelena and Natasha infiltrated it, gave us all the antidote, and destroyed the turbine engines keeping us in the air. Then the Red Room was nothing more than a hunk of metal falling 30 000 feet to the ground."

"Wait - while you were still on board?"

"Yeah, but it was fine. We found one of Dreykov's planes in the hangar, and Anya flew us to safety. Well, eventually."

"What do you mean?"

"Just as we closed the cargo door, the floor collapsed beneath us. The plane started free-falling in a spin. Anya had to do a mid-flight engine re-start and correct the spin before we crashed into the mountains. We made it with a few hundred feet to spare, but it was a little hairy for a few minutes."

That seemed like the understatement of the century to Matt. His mind created the picture of a plane spinning and careening through the smoke-filled sky, chunks of debris from the Red Room falling around it, the Widows inside screaming as Anya tried to get it under control.

No. They wouldn't have been screaming. They would have been stoically silent and composed as they fastened their harnesses.

Just another day in the life of a Black Widow.

With every story that Calina shared of her past, every exploit and perilous mission and near-death experience, Matt became more and more grateful that God, or fate, or whatever power it was, saw fit to keep her alive long enough to meet him.

And kept him alive long enough to meet her.

It felt like such a stroke of divine intervention. For two people to live such dangerous lives, and survive it all and find each other.

And it also made him realise he owed her an apology. For underestimating her yet again. "Today, when the attack was happening, all I could think about was getting to you. And making sure you were safe. But, after everything you've told me about your past, and everything I've seen you do, I should have trusted in your ability to take care of yourself. I'm sorry."

He could sense Calina's confusion at the sudden change of subject. She rested her hand on the top of his, stroking the slightly bruised skin of his knuckles - courtesy of the thief he'd stopped earlier. "You don't need to apologise for worrying about me. I was worried abut you too - and I definitely know you can take care of yourself."

"It's not that. It was more than just worry. I just...I..." Matt struggled to explain. To put in to words the vague sense of unease he'd carried with him all afternoon. "I felt this desperate need to get to you. Like nothing else mattered. Not even..."

"Being Daredevil," Calina whispered, finishing the thought that he couldn't voice aloud.

Matt nodded, feeling ashamed. "There was a moment today when I had a choice. To go towards the danger and help...or to get to you. And I chose you."

"Do you resent me for that?" Calina asked, her voice small and tremulous.

"No!" Matt grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a desperate kiss to the back of it. "If things had gone differently today...if something had happened to you and I wasn't around, it would have destroyed me, Callie. I'd never have forgiven myself. It's just...it's made me realise how much things have changed. A year ago, I don't think I would've hesitated. And that decision might have gotten me killed. But I didn't have as much to live for back then. Now I have you. And you've-"

"I've made the 'Man Without Fear' a little more fearful."

Matt huffed out a laugh at her turn of phrase, but then nodded. Because she was right - he did have a fear now. A very real fear.

He was terrified of losing Calina. Of not getting the future with her that they both wanted. And that fear made him more cautious. It made him evaluate the risks he took in a different way.

Like the risk of wading into an alien attack, unarmed and outmatched.

"Well I'm glad," Calina added. "I know that makes me selfish, but I'm glad you chose the safer option - because it would destroy me if something happened to you. You're amazing at what you do, Matt. As Daredevil, I mean. And you know I'd never want you to stop being the man you are. But you are just a man at the end of the day. You're not invincible. And I don't want you to take stupid risks with your life. So absolve yourself now of all the catholic guilt you're probably going to drown in over the next few weeks as you wrestle with the choice you made today."

Matt smiled wryly, knowing she was probably right - his decision not to run towards danger would likely haunt him in the coming days as he adjusted to this new mindset. But it had been the right choice for today. The city was safe. Hell's Kitchen was safe. And the woman sitting across from him was safe.

And he got to enjoy her company, because he was safe and unharmed as well.

They shared more stories of the past as they ate. Calina expanded on the tale of the Widow's escape from the Red Room, and what their first few days of freedom were like. And Matt relayed his first encounter with aliens, back during the Battle of New York.

"I wasn't Daredevil back then," he explained. "I was just as confused and shocked as everyone else when the Chitauri attacked. I didn't know what to do or where to go. I just followed the evacuation instructions and prayed I'd make it out alive."

"I can't imagine you like that."

"I was only 26"— Matt laughed and shook his head —"Which is no excuse, because its the age you are now. But I was so much more naive and innocent back then. I thought Foggy and I could change the world using the law. That justice would always prevail in the courts. It didn't take long for me to realise the truth."

"What truth?"

"That our legal system is corrupt, more often than not. The innocent slip through the cracks, and the guilty get away with their crimes - especially if they're rich and powerful enough. I saw that working at Landman and Zack - a firm we interned at after graduating law school. There was this one case-" Matt paused, his sentence hanging in midair, as he detected a familiar combination of scents emanating from the entrance to the restaurant:

Italian shoe leather, spiced aftershave and rich vicuna wool.

They were in the upper east side, so that mix of expensive scents could have denoted any wealthy man in a bespoke suit. But Matt knew what his senses were telling him - the particular wealthy man that had just walked in the door was the one he'd been tailing for weeks:

Landon Cross

Calina noticed him go on alert. "What is it?"

"Look towards the door," he answered. "Who do you see?"

The slight catch in Calina's breathing gave him the answer before she spoke. "It's Cross. Did you know he'd be here tonight?"

He shook his head. "Just a coincidence."

Calina sucked in a breath as something else caught her attention.

"What?" Matt asked.

"Cross is not alone. He's with someone."

"Someone we know?"

"Someone I know. Salvatore Ranieri."

Matt frowned as he tried to place the familiar name. Then it came to him. "The money-man who bank-rolled Volkov? The asshole you encountered in Italy?"

He could sense Calina nodding. "Yeah, that's him."

"What the hell is he doing with Landon Cross?"

"I have no idea," Calina answered. "But it can't be anything good."