A/N This is the first 'Geneva vacation installment' - which contains the first (of many) sex scenes of the trip, and the first (of many) difficult conversations (we're getting into Matt's early S3 mental state here, meaning there are references to suicide, so TW)...

Calina opened the door to the chalet, and Nika bounded ahead of her. The dog jumped up on the couch, and flopped down on the cushions with a sigh. "Nika seems at home here," Matt observed, following Calina inside.

Calina smiled. "She's at home pretty much everywhere. I've taken her all over the world."

"So, she's more than a pet."

"Much more. She's been out on missions with us - even saved my life a couple of times." Calina shrugged out of her coat, and removed her holster, placing the gun on the kitchen countertop.

"Speaking of missions," Matt said, dropping their bags by the door and gesturing to her weapon. "I didn't expect you to be armed today."

"We had an incident on base a couple of years ago," she explained, leaning back against the counter. "A bunch of Thanos cultists managed to infiltrate and wreak some havoc, so now we stay armed even during our downtime."

"Thanos cultists?"

"Idiots who believe the world should have let Thanos' big experiment run its course without interference. They didn't like the fact that we - the UN and the Widows - kept trying to mitigate the damage."

Matt frowned. He'd been trying to read about all the history he'd missed, but he'd never heard of Thanos cultists. There must be so much that Calina had been through over the last five years that the rest of the world knew little about.

And that he knew nothing about.

Including the times she'd apparently almost died. God, he could have returned two months ago to a reality in which Calina was dead, killed on some mission years before. His stomach turned to stone at the thought. "I guess there's a lot we need to catch up on," he said, wincing as the inane comment left his mouth. Talk about stating the obvious...

Calina shrugged. "Luckily, there's not much else to do in this place. This chalet was built years ago - for visiting dignitaries - but it hasn't had a lot of use lately. There's no TV, no books - not even a radio. Gossard said it was a good place for contemplation, but I didn't even know it existed until yesterday. The first time she sent me away to be alone she gave me a tent and a sleeping bag and banished me to the forest." Calina laughed, but for some reason it sounded strained. "I guess she thinks it's too cold for that now. Although the Red Room used to drop us in the middle of the Siberian wilderness in the dead of winter for training exercises, so this is nothing. They'd send us out with just an empty canteen and a Bowie knife - a tent would have been a luxury..."

Matt frowned again as Calina's rambling speech tailed off. She was no longer leaning, relaxed, against the counter. She was tense again, the fingers of one hand tapping rapidly against the side of the other. Even Nika noticed the change in Calina. Her head came off the cushion and she whined in concern.

"Calina? You okay?" Matt asked carefully. Her scent hadn't changed, but he braced himself anyway, in case this was the prelude to one of her...episodes.

"Sorry," she said, tucking her hands in her pockets. "I get like this sometimes. I feel something, and I can't work out what it is. It, uh, makes me nervous."

"I imagine you're feeling a lot of things right now. No doubt I surprised you, showing up the way I did."

"You could say that," she laughed again, and it still sounded brittle and forced. "I was thinking about you - down by the lake - and about how much I wanted to see you and, suddenly there you were. It still feels a little surreal. Like I've really gone crazy, and you're just some incredibly vivid hallucination."

Matt approached her slowly, and gently took her face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. "I'm real," he said, reassuring her. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere - at least, not for the next five days."

"Five days?"

"Your Dr. Gossard was apparently feeling generous, so I've been granted five days with you. Which means we'll get to spend Christmas together."

"Christmas? God, I keep forgetting it's Christmas in a few days."

"Does that mean I shouldn't expect a present?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! I- I didn't—"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. "I'm kidding. Now, how about you show me where the bathroom is. I've been travelling since yesterday, and I'd like to shower and freshen up."

It was true that he was desperate to clean up. But he also figured a little space might help Calina deal with whatever she was feeling. He didn't want to crowd her, or overwhelm her, or do anything that might risk upsetting the delicate hold she seemed to have over her emotions.

He only ever wanted to help her.

———

Calina kept busy as Matt showered. She tidied away Nika's toys. She refilled the dog bowls with food and water. She moved Matt's bag and hers into the bedroom, and checked the provisions in the fridge and pantry.

But that unnamed emotion within her kept growing. And with it, her anxiety.

So she sat on the couch and tried some of Gossard's techniques to calm her mind and body. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. Then she tapped the side of her hand again, her collarbone, her eyebrows and under her eyes - all the acupuncture points which apparently linked to her amygdala.

Eventually, the anxiety subsided, and suddenly she was able to recognise what she'd been feeling all along:

Anticipation.

Heady, wonderful anticipation.

She laughed and shook her head. She'd been so worried that it was something bad. That she was scared, or she was about to get angry again, or burst into tears...

Instead, she was just excited at the prospect of being with Matt again.

For five whole days.

The sound of the shower shut off, and her smile grew. She padded down the hallway towards him, eager for those five days to start now.

The door of the bathroom was open, steam escaping in wisps. Matt stood at the sink, a towel slung low around his hips, beads of water trailing down his back. Calina's mouth went dry at the sight. She leaned against the door jamb, taking in every inch of his bare skin, and every curve and dip of his muscles, accented by the light streaming through the large bathroom window.

Beyond that window, a stunning vista of water and mountains and forest lay, but Calina couldn't take her eyes off the view right in front of her.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Matt asked, rummaging through his travel bag.

"Uh-huh," she answered.

Matt smirked - as if sensing the direction of her thoughts - and she remembered how cocky he could be sometimes.

She'd almost forgotten that about him.

He squirted a generous heaping of foam into his hands and started slathering it over his jaw. "You're going to shave?" she asked him.

"Hmmm. I recently got some negative feedback on the beard, so it's time for it to go." He lifted his razor and placed it against his face, then paused. He turned and offered it to her instead. "You want to do the honours?"

Calina pushed off the door frame and took the razor from him. It was an old-fashioned straight edge blade. She twirled it around, the light catching on the steel. "I've never shaved anyone before."

Matt took a seat on the marble surface surrounding the bath tub. He leaned back, his arms behind him bracing his weight. "First time for everything."

Calina walked over to him, and didn't stop until his legs were between hers. She slowly sank down onto his lap, and placed her hand flat on his stomach, feeling the hard muscle twitch beneath her palm. She leisurely ran that hand up his chest until her fingers were tucked over his shoulder, her thumb rubbing the notch at the base of his neck. "You sure you trust me?"

Matt tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat to her. "I trust you, Calina. I trust you with everything that I am."

Calina swallowed, knowing he was speaking of more than just her skills with a blade. But she didn't want to get into that now - she needed to concentrate on the task she'd been given.

She laid the edge of the blade against his skin and with short feathery movements, shaved a strip from the point of his chin down to his neck. She used the towel draped over the edge of the tub to clean the blade, then moved onto the next strip, her movements growing more confident with each pass.

They were both silent as she worked, the only sound in the bathroom the faint scraping noise as she dragged the blade across his skin. When his neck was done, she moved onto the trickier area around his mouth, biting her lip in concentration. When she finally reached the last part to be shaved - where the beard became his sideburns - she grasped a handful of hair at his temple and used her hold to tilt his head and stretch the skin for her blade. Matt made a noise in the back of his throat, and she paused, worried that she'd hurt him.

She leaned back slightly to look at him, and sucked in a breath. She'd been so engrossed in her work, she'd been oblivious to the effect it was having on Matt. His hands were no longer on the marble behind him, but clenched on her hips, his fingertips denting her skin. She'd wriggled closer to him at some point, and their lower bodies were pressed tight together, his hardening cock trapped between them. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths and she could see the pulse in his neck thrumming. She tightened her grip on his hair and watched as his eyes closed and his lips parted in pleasure.

Pleasure that suddenly rocketed through her own body. She felt her core flood with heat and her hips jerked against his.

Matt groaned. "You almost done, sweetheart?"

Calina licked her lips. "Almost," she breathed, getting to work on one of his sideburns.

"Good." His hands shifted, one moving back to palm her ass, pulling her closer to him. The other slid up under her sweater. With a clever flick of his fingers, her bra unhooked.

Calina laughed as she moved onto the other side of his face. "Someone's in a hurry."

"Damn right," he murmured, both hands now coming around to cup her breasts beneath her top.

"Matt!" she complained through more laughter. "Stop distracting me. I still have this last bit to—"

"Fuck it," he growled. He grabbed the razor out of her hand, threw it into the tub, and kissed her.

She sank into the kiss, and onto him, her full weight coming down against his hardness. He moaned at the contact, the low, erotic noise bouncing off the tiled walls. She felt boneless. Limp and languid, as they kissed and kissed and kissed. She felt like she could sit there for hours and just kiss him. Taste him, and swallow his soft moans, and watch the pleasure on his face, lit by the orange glow of then now-setting sun beyond the window.

But Matt had other ideas. His hands grabbed the bottom of her top and whipped it over her head. Her bra quickly followed. Then his mouth was on her breasts and it was her turn to moan. Her head tipped back, his strong hands the only thing stopping her from melting to the floor. One was wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against him. The other trailed up her arm and over her shoulder until he was cupping the back of her head. His thumb came to rest on that spot behind her ear and he rubbed the small tattoo back and forth, reading his name on her skin again and again and again...

Then he stood up. Her legs clamped his waist, and her arms grabbed his shoulders as she was suddenly airborne. She expected him to walk them out of the bathroom and towards the ridiculously comfortable super-king bed in the next room, but he only got as far as the sink. He placed her on the low marble counter and his mouth was on hers again, pushing her back against the mirror with the force of his kiss. With his mouth still on hers, his hands went to the waistband of her jeans, fumbling open the button-fly. He tried to edge the material down with one hand but it wouldn't budge. He broke the kiss with a frustrated growl and used two hands, yanking at the tight denim. She lifted her hips off the counter to help, and eventually her jeans and panties joined her sweater in a discarded pile on the floor.

"I'm sure those jeans did amazing things for your ass," Matt commented, sliding his hands up her bare legs and stepping between them once more. "But how about you stick to skirts and dresses for the next five days?

"I- I don't own any," she replied, barely able to string the words together as one of those roving hands ventured between her legs. A finger slid inside her, wrenching a moan from her lips.

"Guess you'll just have to be naked then."

She laughed, but the sound cut off in a gasp as his fingers played with her. As he opened her to him. As he yanked her to the edge of the counter and pushed himself inside.

There was no more laughing after that. No more talking or teasing either. Just the sounds of their sighs echoing off the walls. The slide of slick skin against skin. And the pleasure as he thrust into her, fucking her senseless on that marble countertop.

———

They made it to the ridiculously comfortable super-king bed for round two. Afterwards, he lay sprawled on his front, arms tucked beneath the pillow, his body laid bare for her to enjoy. It was a repeat of his pose from the other morning - right before it had all gone wrong between them - and she wasn't going to waste it this time.

She rolled to her side, and propped her head on one elbow as her eyes drank him in. The dying embers of sunlight filtered through the room, painting his skin with soft golden hues. The light caught the patchwork of scars on his back, the pearlescent lines that told the story of his pain and his survival. She traced the longest of those lines, trailing her finger down the the raised mark next to his spine. Then she just explored, her fingers gliding over his muscle, up into his hair, and along his arm, as she rediscovered all the details five years had stolen from her memory. Like the freckles on his shoulders. The faint sheen of red in his hair. The curve of his spine as it dipped and flowed...

"I can't tell if you're trying to send me to sleep, or work me up for round three," Matt mumbled into the pillow.

"You shouldn't sleep yet," Calina advised, knowing how difficult it was to adjust to the time difference between New York and Geneva.

"You shouldn't have worn me out, then."

"You started it."

Matt chuckled. He stretched then settled back against the mattress, his face turned towards her. Calina ran a finger over the shell of his ear, the skin delicate and soft. She smoothed over his eyebrow and down his nose. She traced the curve of his jaw, silky and smooth after his shave.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm not feeling the urge to burst into uncontrollable sobs, if that's what you're getting at," she replied, referencing the last time they were intimate.

"I know. I can tell."

Calina frowned. "You can tell?"

"Your scent changes when you go through one of your..."

"Freak outs? Psychotic breaks?" Calina supplied, using the language Gossard hated.

Matt appeared to hate it too. He grabbed her hand, and playfully bit at her knuckle. "Not the terms I would use. But regardless, your scent changes when it happens."

She was silent for a few moments as she processed that. "That's...oddly reassuring."

"How so?"

"It means it's not really me, after all. It's something that's happening to me."

"There's another tell, apart from the scent. Something else that proves it's not the real you."

"What is it?" she asked, laying her head down on the pillow next to his.

"You swear."

"Huh?"

"You swear like a sailor, Callie."

"Really?" she laughed.

"Yeah. You curse like a longshoreman. Blaspheme like a trooper. Profane like-"

"Like you do?" she teased, nudging his thigh with her knee.

Matt laughed. "Now you sound like my mother."

"Uh, that's really not what I want to hear when we're naked in bed."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Very funny." He turned on his side, mirroring her pose with one arm under his pillow, and the other resting on the bed between them. "I just meant that she told me off the other day for cursing."

"How is she? Did she return or..."

"No. She never left."

Calina traced a pattern on Matt's arm, her eyes downcast, watching the movement of her finger. "I never know whether to apologise when people say that. To express sympathy, I mean. Because I'm still not sure which scenario was worse - staying or returning."

"Staying." Matt's answer was quick. And definitive.

Her eyes flew to his face. "You think so?"

"Absolutely." Matt captured her hand again and held it against his chest. "I couldn't have done it, Calina. Losing you that way. Living without you for five years..." He squeezed her hand tighter. "I just...I couldn't have done it."

She frowned at the horrible implication of his words. "Yes, you could have, Matt. You could have, because I know you couldn't have contemplated the alternative. Not with your faith. That knowledge actually kept me going those first few months."

"I'm glad that helped you, Callie, but I'm not sure it's the truth. I don't think I'd have done anything...deliberate. But all it would have taken was one reckless fight, one bad night in the suit..."

Calina could hear the truth in his voice, and it terrified her. She pushed him flat on the bed, and leaned over him, clasping his face between her hands. "Promise me that you'll never do that," she said forcefully. "Ever. No matter what."

"Calina..."

"Promise me, Matt. I've never asked you for anything, but I'm asking for this. Promise me. Please."

———

Calina's hair fell around him, the soft strands brushing his temple. He tucked a lock behind her ear, and trailed his fingers across the curve of her jaw. "I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, sweetheart," he whispered.

God, how did they get here? One moment they were laughing and she was touching him so tenderly...and the next she was forcing him to confront one of the most shameful moments in his life. After Elektra, after the collapse of Midtown Circle, when he was the most physically, emotionally and spiritually broken he'd ever been. When he'd knelt in the street and prayed for God's forgiveness. When he'd handed a man a metal pipe and braced himself for the end...

Maggie had called him a coward back then, but she hadn't known the half of it. He'd tried to take his own life, but without even the courage to do it himself. Too worried about his eternal soul - like he could somehow loophole himself around God's edicts.

He grasped Calina by the arms and gently moved her off him. He swung his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. "Can we drop this?"

Calina's arms snaked around his waist, and she rested her head against the back of his neck. "No. This is too important."

"Only if Thanos is planning to wipe out half the universe again. Otherwise, it's a non-issue."

She pinched his side. "Don't be glib. You know the kind of lives we lead. The dangers we face. I need to know that if anything happened to me—"

Matt stood up, wrenching himself away from her. "I can't think about that." He shoved on his boxers and padded into the main room. He walked passed Nika - snoring softly on the sofa - and headed for the kitchen.

He needed a drink.

He was rummaging through the cupboards when Calina appeared, dressed in his discarded sweater. "Matt, you can't just run away when the conversation gets difficult."

Matt scoffed. "That's rich, coming from you."

Calina winced. "I guess I deserve that."

"No," Matt sighed, rubbing his forehead. "No, you don't. I apologise."

Calina reached passed him and grabbed the bottle of vodka hidden at the back of the cupboard. She poured them both a shot, and slid Matt's glass towards him. He lifted it up and tipped it towards her. "Cheers, I guess," he toasted, before downing the shot.

"I'd say 'Vashe zdorov'ye' in return, but it means 'to your health'. That seems a little ironic given the topic under discussion."

Matt huffed out a laugh.

Calina twisted her glass in her hands for a few moments, before sighing and facing him. "Talk to me, Matt. Why can't you make me that promise?"

"Can you?" he countered. "Because I seem to remember a conversation we once had on a rooftop. Where you said you'd rather die than be back under the control of the Red Room."

"Well, that really is a non-issue."

"Now who's being glib?"

"Okay. I'll be serious. When you disappeared - when I thought you were dead - I was in the worst pain I could've ever imagined. But I kept going. I found a way to survive - and maybe it wasn't the healthiest or sanest option - but I did it because I thought that's what you'd want me to do."

"It was. It is."

"So why can't I ask the same of you?"

Matt slammed his glass down. "Because I don't know if I'm strong enough! I've been there before. After I lost Elektra, I was in a really bad place. I was disillusioned with my faith, I'd isolated myself from my friends...I thought I had nothing left to live for. One night, I saw a way out, and I took it. It's only chance that it didn't work."

Calina stepped closer, and wrapped her hands around his arm. "Maybe it wasn't chance. Maybe it was fate. Maybe you were meant to live, so that you could go on and help people. So you could help me. So that we could meet. And if anything happened to me, you could meet someone—"

Matt pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting off her words. "No. There's no one else for me, Calina. Elektra was...I loved her, but it was an infatuation between two damaged kids. I was in college when I met her, for Christ's sake. And later, there was so much nostalgia wrapped up in it, and too much danger and excitement for me to see that it wasn't really...real. What we have - you and I - it's so much more. You're it for me, Calina."

"You're it for me too," she replied. "Why do you think I never even looked at another man while you were gone?"

Matt frowned. "You said it had been a while...but never?"

"Never."

Matt didn't know how to feel about that. It felt like a gift, having Calina's whole heart, even in death. But she was such a loving, caring person, it seemed a tragedy to waste it on a dead man.

Even though - if the roles were reversed - he wouldn't see loving her as a waste.

Calina took his hand and placed in on her neck, so his fingers rested against her tattoo. "I think part of me kept going, because I wanted to keep the memory of you alive in the world. I was one of the few people left in the universe who really knew you, and the kind of man you were. How brave you were. How much you cared about people, and doing the right thing. How much your choices sometimes tortured you. How strong you were, but also how gentle and charming and funny you could be. How graceful you were, when you allowed yourself to be free - and how reckless."

Matt smiled at the teasing note in her voice.

"It felt important to keep that knowledge alive, even though it hurt to think of you. Even though I could barely speak about you most days, I held the truth of you inside me. It kept part of you alive. And it kept me alive too."

Matt closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Those two words seemed so inadequate to convey how grateful he was for her love. He barely felt worthy of that kind of devotion...

Calina stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. "'Love destroys death, and makes it empty'," she quoted. "Tolstoy said that. And I think when it comes to death and love, you have to trust the word of a Russian."

Matt laughed quietly, and rested his head against hers. "I trust you."

He trusted her. He loved her.

And he made the decision in that moment - that if the worst ever happened - he would do the same for her as she'd done for him. He would keep the memory of her alive.

She deserved that from him.

"I promise," he said, making the vow that she'd demanded of him. That she'd begged him for. "I promise, Calina."

He heard her shaky breath as she exhaled. Felt the warmth of it against his lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

He took her in his arms, allowing her to rest against him as he leaned against the counter. Her arms were tight around his waist, and he dipped his head to breathe in the scent of her hair.

They stayed that way for a long time.