Calina woke up when the floor disappeared.

The last thing she remembered was sitting on the kitchen tiles, back propped up against the cabinets as she finished her beer. The living room was littered with the fallout from their fight - smashed glass on the floor, furniture in pieces - and neither of them had had the energy to clean it up. So in silent agreement, they'd stayed in the kitchen after 'introducing' themselves. Calina had taken the weight off her throbbing knee and Matthew had joined her on the floor, his long legs bracketing hers as they sat opposite each other.

"Are you able to talk about what happened?" he'd asked. "I don't want to push you, but I need to know more details. I need to know what the danger is."

His voice had been gentle and hesitant - and she didn't blame him for his caution. He must have been worried that she'd break down again if she relived the experience. But there wasn't any risk of that tonight - she still felt strangely numb, the raw fragility of earlier replaced by a detached calm, like a veneer of paint over a crumbling facade.

A temporary fix.

Eventually the emotions would break through again, and she'd have to deal with what had happened tonight, but she wasn't ready yet.

And she'd never be ready to share all the details with Matt.

So she lied.

And she used his concern and his compassion against him. "I...I don't feel up to talking about it," she told him. "Not yet. But you're not in any danger from me. Not anymore. They can't activate the serum remotely, so I'm not going to suddenly turn on you again."

Matt gave her a small smile. "I wasn't worried about me being in danger. I wanted to know how much danger you're in."

"Oh." There was that compassion again. And the selfless valour that made up so much of Matt's character. She hated herself for taking advantage of those traits. For manipulating him and lying to him mere moments after their 'fresh start'. But the alternative - sharing the unedited, unsanitised truth about what she'd done in her apartment - would destroy this tentative, fledgling...thing...between them.

He would never look at her the same way, knowing she was a killer by choice. Regardless of the fact that she'd had just seconds to make her choice; regardless of the fact that her mind had been slipping away and her freedom - and the lives of others - had been on the line, she had made the conscious decision to end a life.

And she feared Matt would hate her for it.

It made her a coward. A selfish coward.

But she'd just have to live with that.

"Yelena is much more concerned about the threat than I am," she explained. "I don't believe they're coming for me. I don't think they even know where I am."

"That's good. But you should lay low for a while anyway. Just as a precaution."

She nodded, then changed the subject. She wanted to steer the conversation to safer territory - and away from her quagmire of lies. "Tell me about today."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Distract me. Tell me about the trial. How did the closing arguments go?"

"Foggy did a great job. This case always felt like a long shot, but I'm actually feeling optimistic. The prosecution could never prove a motive, and their cross-examination of our toxicology expert was weak. They..." As Matt recounted his triumph in court, the words - spoken in that lovely, rich tone of his - turned indistinct; they became a background hum, a soothing track that lulled her into oblivion...

...until she drifted off to sleep.

It turned out an adrenaline come-down, mixed with alcohol and painkillers was a potent combination.

And then the floor disappeared. The cold tile was replaced by air as she went weightless, secured in Matt's strong arms as he carried her into the bedroom. "I'll take the couch," she slurred, her head heavy against his chest.

"The couch that is currently canted at a 35 degree angle?" Matt replied as he gently deposited her on the mattress. "It'd be like sleeping on a playground slide." He helped her extract herself from her sling, pulling the fabric over her head and smoothing back her mussed hair. She tried to lean into the caressing hand but it was gone in an instant, the casual stroke meaning nothing to him, but everything to her.

She'd never been fussed over like this before.

"What about you?" she asked as he guided her back onto the pillow and pulled the covers over her.

"I've got some work to do, so I'll stay up a little longer. Besides, I need to keep watch just in case there's any activity next door. And I'll need to wake you every couple of hours."

"What? Why?" She heard the whine in her voice but couldn't help it. She felt leaden with fatigue and wanted to sleep for days - not just a couple of hours.

"You were knocked out cold earlier. Standard concussion protocol."

"Ugh."

———

Matt smiled. The last time Calina had fallen asleep in his apartment, she had woken up confused and disorientated. Now she was acting almost petulant. He wasn't sure which one was more endearing.

He carried one of the living room chairs into the bedroom and settled in for the night, his concentration split between the hallway outside, the woman in his bed, and the deposition papers in his lap. He needed to study the documents for an arbitration session next week, but his fingers soon went lax around the pages as his attention strayed more and more to Calina's sleeping form.

The events of tonight still seemed to unreal to him. After months of speculation and doubt and curiosity, he finally knew the answer to her mystery.

And it was more horrifying that he could ever have imagined. She'd been stolen as a child and brainwashed, then turned into a mindless assassin. He could barely reconcile that kind of past with his sweet, kind neighbour.

It explained everything of course - the inconsistencies in her story, her nightmares and trouble sleeping, her fight skills and all the injuries he'd detected several weeks ago. Although he hadn't gotten an explanation on that last count.

Nor had she been very open about what had transpired tonight.

He still couldn't pick up any physical clues that she was lying, but his gut told him she was holding back. Her story didn't add up. But he had to hope that she would trust him enough to tell him some day.

For now he would keep watch over her until she was strong enough to do it herself. And if that meant living with her for a few weeks, so be it.

Foggy thought he was crazy, of course.

For multiple reasons.

He'd listed them over the phone when Matt had called earlier to update him. "Number 1," Foggy had started. "You've just found out this woman is a TRAINED ASSASSIN."

"And as far as I know there are no bounties out on my head," Matt had responded lightly.

"This isn't funny, Matt. You're going to be living with a killer."

"An ex-killer. She never had a choice about becoming a Widow, Fog. But the first choice she made on being freed was to walk away. She doesn't want to be a killer."

"But that brings me to point B."

"I thought you were numbering these."

"Shut up. Point B, or 2, or whatever. What happens if she loses her mind and goes all robot-killer again?"

"Apparently the mind control can't be activated remotely. If someone wants to steal her mind again, they'll have to do it in person, and they'll have to go through me first. I'm not gonna let that happen."

Foggy sighed. And Matt could hear his friend's frustration over the phone. He knew Foggy didn't understand his decision to take in Calina. To be honest, Matt hadn't exactly thought it through - the offer had been an impulse.

But he didn't regret it.

He was still haunted by Calina's broken, desperate sobs after she'd been freed from the serum controlling her. He hated the thought of anyone being in that much pain, let alone a woman he cared about. This - opening his home to her, allowing her to stay in New York - was a tangible thing he could do to help her. Rather than letting her default to the life she so obviously didn't want out of a feeling of defeat and hopelessness, he was offering her a respite. A chance to heal and get back on her feet.

It reminded him of the aftermath of the building collapse, when Father Lantom and his mother had taken him in for a similar reason.

He was just paying it forward.

"You didn't see her tonight, Foggy. She was so...defeated. I couldn't stand it."

"But, Matt-"

"No, let me finish," Matt interrupted, trying to explain his rationale to his friend. "Imagine having the courage to walk away from everything you've ever known and start a new life, in a new country. Having never had a proper job before, or an apartment. You don't even know how to pay a gas bill. Calina did that. And she's been trying so hard to live in this alien new world and was just starting to adjust...and it was all ripped away from her in an instant. It left her feeling that she had no choice but to give it all up. And I couldn't bear for that to happen."

"For her sake? Or for yours, Matt."

It was a fair question. And one he'd been quietly grappling with.

Was he really being altruistic in convincing Calina to stay? Or did he just not want to lose her?

"Either way," he responded. "I'm not going to start anything with her. This will be a strictly platonic arrangement."

Foggy sighed again. "Let me get this straight. You're attracted to her. And you like her - enough to share your home with her - but you won't act on it? Are you sure this isn't just some new masochistic way of torturing yourself?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm just trying to be a good friend, Foggy. And I can control myself. Its not going to be torture."

———

This was torture.

"Calina?" The Devil whispered again.

"Leave m'lone," she slurred in response.

She heard a soft chuckle in the depths of her drowsiness. "I'm sorry. I just need to make sure you're okay."

"M'okay."

It was the second time tonight that he'd woken her up to check on her. And while she appreciated his diligence and care, she was so tired. And his bed was so, so comfortable.

Which made her feel extra guilty about stealing it from him. The first time he'd woken her, she'd repeated her offered to go out to the couch in the living room. This time, she offered to share. She wriggled over to the far side of the bed and patted the mattress. "Lie down. You can't be comfortable sitting in that chair all night after our fight."

She's not sure she would have had the courage to make that suggestion under normal circumstances. But it was late, and dark, and exhaustion had eroded some of her shyness.

"I'm fine," Matt replied. "I'm still working."

"Liar."

He chuckled again.

She persevered. "At least sit on the bed if you're gonna pretend to work."

She could sense his hesitation, so she decided to make it easier for him. She rolled on to her side so her back was to him, wincing internally as the movement jarred her sore elbow. Moments later she felt the mattress dip as he climbed onto the bed. She smiled in victory, and closed her eyes.

The next time she woke, it wasn't with Matt's whisper in her ear - it was with the morning sunlight blazing against her eyelids. She cracked open her eyes, and slowly adjusted to the strong light piercing into the room. She glared at the bare windows, irrationally angry at them for waking her.

Then her gaze shifted, and she forgot all about her annoyance.

She didn't remember rolling back over during the night, but she must have done at some point...because now she was facing Matt. He was on his side, stretched out on top of the covers, with one hand tucked under his pillow. And he was fast asleep, undisturbed by the sunshine.

A rush of emotions hit her all at once. Sadness, that his eyes couldn't perceive the morning light that had woken her; guilt, at the deep purple bruises marring his skin; tenderness, at the soft, boyish look on his handsome face.

And intense gratitude, that after everything he'd learned about her last night, he still trusted her enough to fall asleep next to her. To leave himself so vulnerable in her presence.

It humbled her.

He shifted in his sleep and she held her breath, not wanting to wake him. She felt a tug at her wrist and looked down. The loose sleeve of her dressing gown was held between two of his fingers. Those fingers twitched ever so slightly, as if he was stroking the material in his sleep.

She smiled. She didn't blame him. She'd bought this dressing gown because the cashmere fabric was so sumptuously soft and delicate. She'd shoved it on over her camisole and shorts last night, wanting to surround herself in comfort and warmth.

She was glad he was benefitting from that as well. Judging from his silk sheets, Matt shared her love of luxurious fabrics.

He moved again, and she glanced up to find his eyes open. "Morning," he rumbled. His deep voice was thick with sleep, even lower and sexier than normal. He licked his lips, and her eyes were drawn to his mouth.

To that full, curved upper lip...

"Calina? You okay?"

She jerked out of her daze. Then shifted back on the bed, putting a bit of distance between herself and the temptation lying next to her. All her sore muscles and abused joints protested the move at once, and she groaned softly. "Why does it always hurt so much worse the next morning?" she complained.

He huffed out a laugh. "Tell me about it."

She studied his face again. His nose was swollen and there was bruising beneath his eyes and over his cheek and jaw. The cut on his ear looked angry and red, and she could see the bandage covering the knife wound peeking out the neck of his t-shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey." He released his hold on her sleeve and grasped her arm instead. "Stop apologising. In case you forgot, the reason you're in pain is because of me."

"I don't blame you for that. You were just doing what I asked you to do."

"Well, I don't blame you either. You weren't in control of your actions."

She nodded, accepting his absolution for now. She didn't have the energy to debate her culpability this early in the morning.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Apart from general aches and pains. Do you need to see a doctor about your elbow?"

She extended and flexed the joint a few times. It hurt, but not any worse than usual. "It'll be fine. It's happened before."

"Yelena mentioned that."

Calina laughed.

"Why is that funny?" he asked softly

"Because she was the first person to dislocate it."

He frowned. "What? How?"

"We were eleven and it was during jiu jitsu training. I'd broken some rule - I can't even remember which one - and the trainers wanted to make an example of me. So they paired me with Yelena for a practice bout. We were the same height back then, but she was a lot stronger."

"You didn't tap out?"

"There was no tapping out in the Red Room. Fights were over when one of us was unconscious...or dead."

"Jesus. Dead? You were just children."

"We were assets. And if we weren't good enough, we were disposed of. Only 1 in 20 of us made it all the way through the training."

She wasn't sure why she'd told him that. Maybe it was the intimacy of the space - the shared bed, with their faces inches apart, and their soft voices filling the sun-bathed room - that made her feel safe enough to spill all her secrets. Maybe it was his sightless eyes, the ones that couldn't lock on to hers and stare down into her soul as she bared it.

Or maybe she just wanted to prove that she was tough. Capable. That despite him besting her last night, and despite breaking down in tears afterwards...she was strong. She had endured so much, and could endure anything else that was thrown at her.

"I don't even know what to say to that." Matt shook his head. "I can't imagine that kind of childhood."

"From what you've told me, it's not like yours was all sunshine and roses," she countered. He'd been blinded in a horrible accident, then orphaned. That was still a pretty good hand to play in the game of 'Who's Life Sucked More'.

"I guess we make some pair."

She smiled. "Yeah."

They were silent for a few beats, and she basked in the comfort of it. She liked this moment they were sharing. This interlude of honesty and intimacy. It felt like they were removed from time - that this room was the only thing that existed, and they were the only people in the world that mattered. She never wanted it to end.

Of course, the universe had other ideas.

A car travelling the street below back-fired, the sound like a gunshot. Matt flinched, as if the noise pained his sensitive ears. Calina jerked upright, an instinctual reaction to possible gunfire. The move wrenched her knee and a cry of pain escaped her lips.

Matt sat up in response. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just my knee. I should probably ice it."

He twisted to face her and crossed his legs between them. His hands hovered over her sheet-covered legs. "Do you mind if I check it out?"

She wasn't sure what he'd be able to 'check', but then again, she didn't know the full extent of his abilities. She pulled the duvet out of the way and exposed her bare legs. Her left knee was noticeably red and swollen, but it looked a little better than last night.

She couldn't say the same for the bruises on her thighs where she'd been repeatedly hit - by both Matt, and the man she'd killed. Vivid purple blotches covered most of the skin, and she was glad Matt couldn't see them.

He slowly lowered his hands until they covered her injured knee. Gently - so gently - he palpated the joint. Then he slipped one hand under her thigh, taking the weight of her leg so he could check her range of motion. Her breath caught at the feel of his warm, calloused fingers against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She only managed to exhale again when he finally placed her leg back on the mattress.

"There's some deep bruising. But nothing's ruptured or broken," he said, his voice maddeningly calm and unaffected.

She couldn't say the same for her own. "Th-that's good," she breathed.

"I'll get you that ice. And some painkillers."

He started to move off the bed but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She quickly pulled it back at the feel of his hard muscle beneath his t-shirt. "No. I'll do it. I, um, need to walk off some of the stiffness."

She scooted off the bed and practically jogged out of the room, ignoring the lancing pain in her legs. She shut herself in the bathroom, braced her hands on the sink and glared at the woman in the mirror.

Get a grip, she silently admonished. He's being a wonderful, kind friend. Pull your mind out of the gutter and show a little discipline. You don't want him feeling uncomfortable around you and your pathetic crush.

She splashed some water onto her face to cool herself down, and took a few deep breaths. Once her hormones were back under control, she laughed bitterly at the unfairness of the situation. It reminded her of a famous proverb from back home: Love is cruel; you could fall in love with a goat.

Forget goats. You could fall for an amazing, brave, handsome man...who didn't feel the same way about you.

Now that was cruel.

———

Matt hated to admit it, but Foggy was right: this was torture.

He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, letting out a sharp gasp as he bumped against the swelling over his nose. He probed the bridge carefully, but couldn't feel the crunch of a broken bone.

Just a lot of bruising.

Bruising which - unfortunately - wasn't bad enough to block his sense of smell. He would have gladly gone without it today.

Because he'd woken up saturated in Calina's scent.

It filled the room like an atmosphere, so thick he could swim through it. He could feel it on his skin and taste it on his lips.

Complete and utter torture.

He never should have gotten into bed with her. He should have just kept vigil in the chair all night. Better yet, he should have been out in the living room, as far away from her as possible. But he'd been tired. And sore. And the temptation of the soft mattress had been too much to resist. The moment his head hit the pillow, he'd been out like a light.

It was the best night sleep he'd had...since the last time he'd slept with Calina.

He was just grateful that he hadn't woken up wrapped around her. It was a distinct threat - he'd always been a cuddler in bed. And it had been so long since he'd been with a woman. He missed the sensation of bare limbs entwined together, silken hair against his cheek, shared warmth...He only had so much restraint, especially in the morning hours when his guard was down. It took all his willpower to fight the lure of her scent, add in the feel of her skin against his and he'd be in big trouble.

Just touching her knee had been bad enough. It had sparked a cascade of reactions in Calina that had nearly made him groan. The moment his hand had wrapped around her thigh, he'd sensed a rush of liquid heat to her core, just inches from his fingers. Her heart had started pounding and her breathing had stopped. Worst of all, her scent changed, her arousal magnifying the already intoxicating fragrance.

Fucking. Torture.

He needed to be careful. She was obviously as touch-starved as he was. Which made sense, given the life she'd lived up until now. A life of control and duty. A life devoid of fun and happiness and the simple pleasures that most took for granted.

A life devoid of...life.

The small fragments of her past she'd shared this morning gave him even more insight into that.

Only 1 in 20 girls completed the training.

What must that have been like? Never knowing if you would survive to the next day. Never knowing if the person next to you would make it either.

You would close yourself off and avoid getting close to anyone. And by all rights, Calina should have still been like that. She should have been cold. Or, at least tentative in her interactions with other people. And, yes, maybe in the beginning she'd been a bit aloof, but now she was so warm and open and caring.

That she could hold on to that side of her after everything she'd been through was...miraculous.

He needed to be careful with her. So, so careful.

She was out in the world for the first time, having never experienced proper human connection. Her reaction to him - her apparent attraction - was likely just a product of that inexperience. He was the only man in her life - maybe even the first one that she'd ever been close with - so he shouldn't read too much into it.

And he absolutely should not take advantage.

It was yet one more reason why they needed to stay platonic.

Friends. And nothing more.