For the hundredth time since finding the note, Matt brushed his thumb over the bumps, reading the missive again and again:

Thank you Matthew.

Three simple words.

Not the most verbose message he'd ever received. Nor the most life-altering.

But it was written in Braille.

Painstakingly rendered...just for him.

Calina had, once again, taken the time to relate to him on his level. To share his world in a small way.

And as he 'read' the words again - appreciating as he did so the effort and skill involved in free-styling such a message - he pondered the mystery of Calina Balashova.

He didn't know what to make of her.

When he'd first met her, he'd thought her cold. Beautiful...but aloof. Unfriendly.

But then, in a moment of vulnerability on a star-canopied rooftop, she'd given him a glimpse of the hurt that haunted her. On their walk from the library, she'd shown her thoughtfulness. And last night, she'd let down her guard and babbled about physics while sipping on hot chocolate, her face lighting up with each taste of the drink.

He'd started the night so suspicious of her - and with good reason, given the bruises on her body and the smell of a weapon on her hands. But by the end, he'd laid down on his bed less than a dozen feet from her, and slept soundly.

So soundly that he hadn't heard her leave.

He turned the note over in his hands, playing with the small scrap of paper, the final clue that his initial impression of her had been so completely off-base. With this small but meaningful act of gratitude she had shown herself to be caring. Considerate.

And skilled in Braille.

How the hell did she know Braille?

And where had she really been the past week?

What had she been doing?!

Matt groaned, and flung the note onto his desk.

"You alright"? Foggy called out from his office.

"Yeah," Matt replied. "Just..."

"What?" Foggy's voice was closer now. Matt looked up to see him standing in the doorway of his office. "Is it the case?"

"Huh?"

Foggy gestured to Matt's ear. And Matt realised the transcript of the police interview was still playing through the headphone in his right ear. The droning voice had been easy to tune out as his thoughts had strayed to the woman who confounded him.

Matt yanked out the earpiece and dropped it onto the desk. "No. Sorry. I'm just distracted this morning."

"Is it Calina? Is she still missing?"

"Actually no. She came home last night."

"Really?" Foggy sat in the chair opposite Matt's desk. "Did you speak to her?"

"Yeah. She said she was on vacation."

Foggy smiled. "Well there you go. I told you it would be something normal like that." He frowned. "Unless she was lying..."

"She was," Matt said. "But I couldn't tell."

"What do you mean?"

Matt got to his feet and paced the small space between his desk and his window, hands on his hips. "I mean that she can lie to me, Foggy. Her heartbeat doesn't change, her breathing is steady, there's nothing. No sign that she's lying, but she is. I know it."

"Are you sure, Matt-"

"She was covered in bruises, Fog. She'd been strangled, and stabbed. What kind of a vacation is that?"

"Holy shit, are you serious?"

"Yes. She said she cut herself on some glass, but she'd been stabbed. She lied straight to my face."

"I repeat: holy shit. What are you gonna do?"

Matt huffed out a laugh. "I have no fucking idea."

"You could go to the police," Foggy suggested.

"And tell them what, exactly? My new neighbour is hiding something, just don't ask me how I know?"

Foggy grimaced. "Yeah, okay. Police are out." He slouched down in the chair and rested his head on the back, staring up at the ceiling as he thought through the options.

Matt continued his pacing. But he only managed a few steps before the main office door opened, and the scent of leather, denim and whiskey announced an unexpected visitor: Jessica Jones

"Hello?" she called out.

"In here," Matt answered in surprise.

Foggy sat up straight again. "Who is it?," he whispered.

Jessica answered herself as she entered the now cramped office. "Hey, Foggy."

Foggy eyed her warily. "Hey," he said in return.

Jessica leaned against the wall, and looked around Matt's office. "I like your new place. Almost as shitty as mine."

"Did you just come here to insult us, or is there another reason...?" Foggy asked.

"I was out on a job this morning and happened to pass by Matt's apartment - where I discovered that the prodigal neighbour had returned." She turned to face Matt. "So I came here to ask, 'what the hell?' and 'why didn't you tell me?'"

"Sorry. She came back late last night. I was going to call you."

"Well even though I wasn't the one to find her, I'm still going to bill you for my hours."

He smiled. "Understood."

"Wait," Foggy said, holding up a hand. "You hired a private investigator?"

Jessica pointed to Matt as she replied. "Your guy over here dresses in a ridiculous costume to go beat up criminals, but hiring a PI is your ethical red line?"

Foggy ignored her. "Its just not your usual style, Matt-"

"My style didn't work out so well for me in the past. I'm trying something new. We're swamped with this trial prep, Fog. I thought delegating some grunt work would free me up to help out more. No offence, Jessica."

She shrugged. "None taken. 'Grunt' is my middle name."

"I'm sorry," Foggy replied, sounding abashed. "I appreciate that, Matt."

"There's also..." Matt began.

"What?" Foggy asked.

Matt glanced at Jessica, unsure about sharing something personal in front of her. But he knew he could trust her, and it wasn't like she was entirely unaware of his past. "You know I don't have the best history. With, um, women. I was worried that I couldn't be impartial when it came to her. To Calina."

"Because you are attracted to her," Foggy groaned. "Matt!"

Matt held his hands up. "I'm not going to pursue anything. I'm just being honest. New style, remember?"

"What's the big deal?" Jessica asked. "I've seen this chick. Half of New York would be attracted to her."

"Like Matt said, his track record sucks. You met Elektra, right?"

"Oh yeah," she sneered. "I met her. But what makes you think Calina is anywhere on her level? Just because she disappeared for a few days-"

"Its a little more than that," Matt said. He explained the discrepancies in her story. Her fight training. And the bruises and wounds from last night.

Jessica whistled. "Wow. Girl's got secrets." She shook her head. "But I still don't peg her as shady. I watched her for a while this morning and she didn't strike me as some criminal in hiding. She grabbed a coffee from that place on 10th, stopped to pet a dog on her way home, then helped one of your neighbours with their shopping. Not exactly nefarious."

"It could all be an act," Foggy suggested.

"Even with no one watching? Or at least, no one that she was aware of?" Jessica countered. "I could keep following her," she offered. "See if she slips up."

Matt considered the idea. It was the logical option. The prudent thing to do, to allay his suspicions.

But it felt...wrong...somehow.

Because he liked Calina.

Despite all the evidence of her lies and deceit - and the very real possibility that she was involved in something illegal - he liked her. That's what he'd realised last night. And a part of him knew it was hypocritical to investigate her behind her back, when he knew how he'd feel if she did the same to him.

"No," he eventually replied. "Thanks, but no. I'll think of something else."

"Fair enough," Jessica said, pushing off from the wall. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

As she left, Foggy got to his feet. "Time to get back to the grind." But he paused on the threshold, turning back at Matt. "You know, there is one way to find out what she's hiding."

"What's that?" Matt asked.

"Become her friend. Prove to her that she can trust you. Then just...ask her."

———

The rest of the day passed quickly as they planned the witness list for their upcoming trial. The latter was a parade of people willing to testify that Margaret Posen - the woman who'd snapped and shot a stranger to death - was a kind, gentle soul who taught knitting classes at a halfway home for women fleeing domestic violence.

She'd been a DV victim herself; she still had a restraining order out against her ex-husband and carried a gun in her bag at all times for protection. But she'd never so much as threatened anyone with it, let alone fired it. She was a fine, upstanding citizen, according to everyone who knew her. A paragon of virtue. No one could understand why she had done what she had.

No one...except Matt.

A few weeks ago he had asked Brett to give Nelson, Murdock & Page a heads up if any strange cases came through the precinct - particularly those that involved out-of-character violence that was either self-destructive or just generally destructive. He was looking for more evidence of his mysterious drug - the one that had led a gang of thugs to terrorise a bar, and a young woman to commit suicide.

Margaret Posen's actions definitely fit the 'out-of-character' description, and when Matt had entered the interview room to meet her, mere hours after the murder, he had smelled that same acerbic scent.

Margaret had been dosed with something. Something that had caused her to hallucinate and kill an innocent stranger.

The problem was trying to convince a jury of that fact. Margaret didn't remember taking anything, and no drugs or known compounds had shown up in her blood tests. All she remembered was feeling an overwhelming sense of panic and fear - as if she was about to be attacked. She had seen the vague outline of a hulking, menacing figure bearing down on her, and had reacted by pulling her weapon.

She was claiming self-defence.

A hard sell, when the CCTV footage from the street clearly showed her gunning down the petite female grad student in cold blood.

Matt sighed, as he tidied his desk. He knew Margaret was innocent, but proving it was going to be nearly impossible. Foggy and Karen already thought it was a lost cause - but it didn't stop them from working all hours of the day to fight it anyway.

Matt shoved his laptop in his briefcase and collected together the stack of witness statements and police reports that were strewn about his desk. As he did, he came across the Braille note from Calina, still lying where he'd discarded it earlier. He picked it up, intending to throw it in the trash...but at the last minute he pocketed it, for some reason not willing to let it go.

"Josie's?" Foggy called from the other room.

"Yeah, I can go for a round," Matt responded. "What about Karen?"

"I texted her. She'll meet us there." She'd been out all day, talking to toxicologists and pharmaceutical experts, trying to find out what kind of drug could produce the combination of hallucinations, anxiety and paranoia that Margaret had experienced.

Foggy appeared in his doorway, his jacket on and his satchel slung over one shoulder. "Why don't you invite your neighbour again?"

Matt frowned at him. "We spent the morning discussing the fact that she's a potentially dangerous criminal, and now you want to hang out with her?"

"No, we discussed the fact that she has secrets - like you do - but you like her anyway, and you agreed to try my 'be her friend' plan."

"That's not exactly how I remember the conversation," Matt said, dryly.

"I read between the lines," Foggy shrugged.

"I don't know, Foggy. I don't want to put you guys in any danger."

Foggy folded his arms. "Do you think she's a danger to us? To you? Honest, answer, Matt. What does your gut say?"

Matt shrugged into his suit jacket as he considered his answer. He thought about the woman who'd geeked out over astrophysics last night. The one who wrote him a note and described the smell of a library for him. The one who apparently helped a struggling neighbour this morning. The one who stood in lonely solitude on a rooftop to escape her nightmares...

"My gut says no," he eventually replied. "I don't think she's a danger to us. But I don't know if I can trust that instinct. She has this way of making me forget all my suspicions when I'm around her. And she is keeping secrets, Foggy."

"So are you, Matt."

Matt nodded, conceding the point. He wanted to believe that her secrets and her lies were like his - a way to keep her safe. Not as a means to hide a criminal agenda. But he just wasn't sure he could.

"Karen's got a good bullshit meter," Foggy said. "Another reason to invite her along tonight. See what her impression of Calina is."

"I don't know...," he repeated.

"She's seeing that guy from then DA's office now, if you're worried about her being jealous-"

"Its not that. I keep telling you - I'm not looking to start anything with Calina."

"Why not? You're single. She appears to be single. She's beautiful, you're annoyingly handsome. There's only a 7 year age gap between you, so you're out of the creepy, gross territory. What's the problem?"

"Apart from my terrible taste in women?"

"You know I'm just yanking your chain with that stuff. C'mon Matt, what's really the problem here?"

"Me, Foggy. I'm the problem."

Foggy frowned at him. He let his bag slide to the ground, then sat down, resuming his position from this morning. "Explain."

Matt echoed his movements, dropping into his chair with a sigh. "Its just...things are finally starting to go right again. In my life. With you guys, and the firm. And with my...nighttime activities. I've found a balance-"

Foggy scoffed. "I beg to differ."

Matt frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're making a real effort with the firm - Karen and I see that - but I wouldn't exactly say you've got the balance right. You're not sleeping."

"Foggy-"

"I know the signs. Matt," Foggy said firmly. "I remember them from College when Elektra left. You're overdosing on coffee, you have bags the size of suitcases under your eyes, and you're banging into things more than normal because you're walking around here like a zombie."

Matt blew out a breath, then nodded. "You're right."

"I always am. So when's the last time you got a decent night's sleep - and I mean more than four hours, on a proper horizontal surface."

"Actually...last night," Matt said, surprised. It hadn't occurred to him before, but he'd gotten a solid six hours of rest while Calina had slept in the other room.

"And before that?"

"A while ago," Matt conceded.

Foggy nodded. "So until you sort out what's causing your insomnia, and decide what you need to do to fix it, don't pretend to me that you've found any sort of balance in your life."

Matt nodded. The wounds of his previous lies, and the damage his skewed prioritises had wrought on their friendship still lurked beneath the surface of their new dynamic. He could hear it in Foggy's tone.

"So you get why now is a bad time to start any sort of new relationship?" Matt asked. "I don't need anything else pulling my focus or distracting me."

Foggy sighed. "Yeah."

"I don't want to mess things up with us again, Fog. Losing the firm, losing you guys. It was hard. Really hard."

"Okay, Matt. I get it. I'll stop pushing. Just...take a break from dating, sure, but don't go turning into a monk on me, okay?"

Matt laughed. "I don't think there's any risk of that."

"I'm serious, Matt. You deserve to find someone. You deserve to be happy."

Matt nodded.

But he wasn't so sure he agreed with his friend.

And it made him realise what he needed to do about Calina.

———

She came to his apartment that night. But Matt didn't invite her to Josie's. He didn't try to initiate Foggy's 'be her friend' plan.

Instead, he went the complete opposite route.

"Hi," she greeted, as he opened the door, her voice holding a smile. "I just wanted to thank you again for helping me last night."

"It was no big deal," Matt said, trying to keep his tone indifferent.

"Well, it was a big deal to me. So...thank you, Matthew."

As she repeated the words of her note, Matt slipped his hand in his pocket, where the now-crumpled scrap of paper resided. He clenched it tightly between his fingers as he responded, his voice a few degrees colder than before. "I would have done the same for anyone."

"Oh, okay. Well, I still have your sweater, I'll wash it and return it-"

"There's no need."

He sensed her smile drop. A frown took its place. "Um, okay. Is there something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I need to go, Calina. I have work to do. I-I'll see you around."

"Yeah," she said, her voice now flat, the warmth and vitality in it leached away. "I'll see you around."

He closed the door, turned and leaned against it. Then he thumped his head against the wooden panel for good measure, deserving the pain that shot through his skull.

He felt like an asshole.

But he needed to put some distance between himself and Calina. This past week proved that he was too invested in her story. Too intrigued by the mystery of her. Too seduced by her scent.

Too attracted to her.

He needed to pull back. Quickly, and all at once, before he got any more attached.

It was better that way. Her secrets could stay hers. He would stop trying to figure her out. He would trust his gut that she wasn't a danger, and he would help her if she ever came to him again.

But he needed to stay away from her.

He'd been telling Foggy the truth earlier - he was worried that a new relationship would upset the equilibrium of his life - but it hadn't been the whole truth.

Foggy would never understand the whole truth - because he had never understood Matt's connection with Elektra.

The woman he had loved...and the one he had failed to save.

Twice.

He'd pushed aside his grief in the immediate aftermath of Elektra's death - too focused on healing from his wounds, evading the Feds and hunting Fisk - and he'd spent the last few months concentrating on the new practice. All of which meant that he'd never fully processed what had happened in that building, when he had taken Elektra in his arms and lost her for the second time.

It felt like a part of him was still buried there, beneath the rubble. And he would only be whole again when he came to terms with his loss.

And his guilt.

And the knowledge that he would never again find someone who saw the darkness in him...and loved him anyway.

Until he dealt with all that baggage - if he ever managed to - he was no good for anyone.