Dedicated to caramel_bliss_09

     Shortly after the attempt on Karen Page's life, Nelson and Murdock met with Detectives Blake and Hoffman for the second time that night.

     "I'm gonna make this easy, Detectives," Matt said, his voice quiet but firm. "Get the ADA in here to release Miss Page and we'll recommend to our charming, media-friendly client that she not plaster the airwaves with how she was nearly killed in your custody."

     "And I'll agree not to make cooing noises for the rest of this meeting when I think of the civil suit that we have on our hands," Foggy added with a smile.

     "How do you know they're not charging her?" Blake countered.

     "Besides the fact that you were required to do so four hours ago...if you were gonna do it at all?" Matt replied.

     "That's an excellent question," Foggy said. "Along with how the security cameras on Miss Page's detention area went on the fritz right before the assault."

     "Yeah, we'd like to speak to Mr. Farnum about that, as well as what—"

     "Get in line," Hoffman interrupted. "He'll be arraigned in the morning."

     "Get my client released," Matt continued without skipping a beat. "Don't make me ask again."

     Hoffman looked from Nelson to Murdock, then leaned over and whispered in Blake's ear, his partner never taking his fiery gaze off Matt. After a moment, Blake nodded in silent agreement with Hoffman.

     "I'll call the ADA," he said before leaning across the table to tower over Matt, who was still seated. "But you take that tone with me again, I don't care if you're blind, I'll kick the shit out of you."

     "Really?" Foggy replied. "We're going there?"

     Rather than replying, the detectives left the room without saying another word.

     "That was pleasant," Foggy scoffed.

     Matt shook his head, "It doesn't make any sense. ADA had everything they needed...Unless they had too much."

     "What? What am I missing?" Foggy asked as they got to their feet.

     "Maybe someone else was in her apartment that night. Maybe they had evidence."

     "That's Brady material. They'd have to turn that over."

     "Only if she were charged. She hangs herself in her cell, this all goes away."

     Foggy exhaled sharply and shook his head, "Let's get her some clothes and get the hell out of here."

     Shortly after, Nelson and Murdock returned to their office with Karen, who only broke from her trance when Foggy brought her a cup of tea.

     "Couldn't find any milk. I hope it's okay."

     "We have tea now?" Matt asked.

     "I stole it from the financial office next door," Foggy admitted.

     Karen inhaled the aromatic steam before taking a sip, "Thank you."

     Sighing as he sat across from Karen, Matt asked, "How are you holding up?"

     "Better. Thanks for getting me out."

     "Don't thank us yet," Foggy replied. "Just because they released you doesn't mean they won't eventually bring charges."

     "Which means it's crucial you don't speak to anyone other than the two of us about what happened," Matt added.

     "I don't have anyone to talk to, anyway."

     "Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?"

     "My apartment's not far."

     "You can't go back there," Foggy reminded her.

     "Miss Page, our immediate priority is to keep you safe," Matt said. "And in order to do that, we're gonna need to have a frank discussion."

     Karen took a deep breath, then nodded, "Okay."

     "Do you know who's trying to kill you?"

     "No."

     "Do you know why they're trying to kill you?"

     Karen hesitated for a moment and looked from Matt to Foggy before finally nodding, "Yes."

     After gathering around Matt's desk, Murdock activated a recording device and Karen started, "I, uh, work...worked in the financial department at Union Allied. They're overseeing the bulk of the government contracts for the West Side reconstruction."

     "I've seen their signs all over Hell's Kitchen," Foggy claimed.

     Karen nodded, "The last two years have transformed the business. There's new owners, new grants, new contracts."

     "Yeah, the world watched half of New York get destroyed," Matt replied. "That's a lot of sympathy."

     "And Union Allied benefited from every dollar of it. I was the secretary for the chief accountant. And one of my jobs...was to coordinate the pension claims for the company. About a week ago, I was emailed a file called 'Pension Master'. It must have been meant for my boss, but I made the mistake of opening it."

     "I'm guessing it wasn't the pension fund."

     Karen shook her head, "It wasn't the size of the pension fund. I couldn't believe the numbers. But it was still being designated as company pension. And it was constantly adjusted. Money coming in and money going out."

     "Going where?" Foggy asked.

     "I don't know. It was coded routing numbers, but we are talking a lot of money."

     "What did you do with the file?" Matt inquired.

     "Well, I told my boss, Mr. McClintock, about it, and he laughed it off. He said that it was a theoretical model that they were screwing around with. I knew something was wrong. I just—I thought maybe it was just him, you know? Embezzling or whatever."

     When Karen faltered, Matt prompted, "So, how did Daniel Fisher figure into this?"

     "Danny worked in the legal department. And I didn't know him very well. But he was nice, so I asked him to meet me after work. I don't know how they knew. They must have people watching me. They must have people everywhere. All I did was ask him for a drink. And I start to tell him about what I found and things got blurry. Like I was drugged. And the next thing I know, I wake up...back in my apartment, covered in blood."

     Karen swallowed, blinking back tears as she continued, "They killed him...because of me. And he had a family. A little boy."

     Karen burst into tears and covered her hand with her mouth.

     Abruptly pushing away from the table, she said, "I need to get out of here. I'm sorry."

     Foggy jumped to his feet and blocked Karen's path, nearly knocking his chair over in the process.

     "We can't advise that, Miss Page."

     "No, you don't understand. Either you're with them or you're not. And if you're with them, then I'm dead already. And if you're not, then I cannot have anybody else die because of me."

     "We can protect ourselves, Miss Page," Matt claimed from where he sat, his hands folded on the desk.

     "No, you can't. Not from them."

     "Miss Page—" Foggy started.

     "No."

     "—we can't let you go home."

     "Please, just—"

     Karen broke down and covered her face with her hands as she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. After a moment, Foggy pulled her into his arms and glanced at Matt, unsure of what else to do.

     "She can stay with me," Matt said softly. "Just for tonight, until we figure something out. I'll keep you safe, Karen."

     Glancing over her shoulder, Karen shakily replied, "Thank you."

     Reaching Matt's apartment, he held the door open for Karen and said, "I don't have much in the way of food, but there's a Thai place on the corner. If we order now, it should get here by the time I make up the bedroom for you."

     "It's a little dark in here," Karen remarked.

     "I never..." Matt paused before hanging his coat. "Uh, light switch is on the wall to your left. So, uh, want some food?"

     "Uh, no, I'm not...Would you have a shirt I could borrow, maybe? This one's a little wet, and I'm a Hellions fan," she replied, gesturing to her rain-soaked T-shirt, which featured the lightning bolt symbol of the Boston Bolts soccer team.

     Matt chuckled, "Then don't tell Foggy. Let me grab something for you."

     "And, really, I can't put you out of your bedroom. I'll be just fine on the couch."

     "From what I understand about my living room, that might not be true."

     As Matt disappeared into the bedroom, Karen moved to the window, having to squint against the blinding lights of a billboard for Xining Airways that loomed just outside the apartment and doused the entire space in a purple hue.

     "Holy shit!" she exclaimed with a breathy laugh.

     "Went up a year ago," Matt said as he returned with a blue, button-up shirt. "I'm told the co-op nearly rioted, some oversight from the developer's agreement. Upside is, nobody wanted it and I got a corner apartment at a hell of a discount."

     When Matt offered Karen the shirt, she glanced at his unfocused gaze before removing her shirt, "Thanks."

     Quickly slipping her arms into the sleeves and buttoning the shirt as Matt walked into the kitchen, Karen said, "Can I ask a personal question?"

     "I haven't always been blind," Matt answered knowingly.

     "I guess that's what everyone wants to know."

     Matt smiled as he returned with two glasses of water, "That or, 'How do you comb your hair?'"

     Karen chuckled, "How do you comb your hair?"

     "Honestly, you just—You hope for the best," he replied, hanging her a glass.

     "Thank you."

     "You wanna sit?"

     "Mmm hmm."

     As they sat, she asked, "How did it happen?"

     "Car accident," Matt answered, adjusting his glasses. "When I was nine."

     I cursed inwardly as I watched the two converse. Despite promising myself I would stay away from Karen, I had kept a careful eye on her since her arrest, and now, I realized I had made a critical mistake. In allowing Karen to be arrested, with the hopes of both distancing myself from Page and exposing the corruption within Union Allied, I had inadvertently led her to the same Matthew Murdock I met as a child.

     I cursed again, knowing I should have put the pieces together sooner.

     "Must have been rough," Karen said, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

     "No. I made it through."

     "Do you remember what it was like...to...to see?"

     "I, um...Yes, I remember."

     Karen shook her head, "I can't imagine what that must be like."

     With a melancholy chuckle, Matt removed his glasses, "You know, I'm supposed to say I don't miss it. That's what they teach you in trauma recovery. Define yourself by what you have, value the differences, make no apologies for what you lack. And it's all true, for the most part...but it doesn't change the fact that I...I'd give anything to see the sky one more time."

     After a moment of shared silence, Matt slid his glasses into place, "Do you mind if I ask you some questions now?"

     Karen nodded, then realized her mistake, "Uh...Go ahead."

     "You just nodded, right?" Murdock chuckled.

     Karen laughed and nodded again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, "Uh, yeah."

     "Okay. Here's what I don't understand," Matt said before clearing his throat and getting to his feet, slowly pacing across the floor. "I'm the man in charge of the pension funds and I find out one of my secretaries has discovered my illicit activity. To make matters worse, she's now telling people about said activity. Which, obviously, I can't have. So I decide to take action. But why don't I kill you?"

     "They tried," Karen quietly replied, fingering the bruises on her neck.

     "Yeah, the second time. In the jail. But the first time, they left you alive. Why? What were they trying to do? Frame you? Now, the second time, maybe that's a change of plan. Something doesn't go their way, something sloppy at the crime scene. Two lawyers show up out of the blue before their people can get to you.

     "So they figure, okay, maybe Karen hangs herself in her cell, and this thing gets swept under the rug. But the first time...the first time they're not trying to kill you. They're trying to discredit you. They're trying to scare you. And the only reason that they would do that...is if you have something that they want."

     Having settled into the armchair across from Karen, Matt took note of her ever-increasing heart rate as he continued, "So, I've been trying to think about what that could be, and the only thing I've come up with...is the Union Allied pension file. Did you keep the file, Karen?"

Shit, Karen! I silently shrieked. You said you didn't want anyone else to die. If that's the case, then don't answer that question. If you answer, people will die, including the man sitting across from you.

     "No," Karen answered quietly, as though she could hear my thoughts. "As soon as I asked my boss about it, he took it away from me. The IT guys, they came and they wiped the computers. Believe me, a part of me wishes I'd made a copy for myself...but I guess I'm just not that smart."

     Matt smiled, "Ah, well, it was just a thought."

     As he leaned back in the armchair, Karen swallowed and inhaled shakily, unaware that Matt knew she was lying. Later that night, once Murdock had fallen asleep on the couch, I convinced Karen to retrieve the pension file from her apartment, knowing it would be safer in someone else's hands. Tip-toeing across the living room and down the hall, Karen grabbed her coat from the hangar and slipped into the night.

...

     "It's freezing this high up," Leland Owlsley complained from where he stood overlooking the city, the financier having gathered with his fellow black market business partners in one of the many buildings that belonged to Union Allied, though this one was still under construction. "Next time we're meeting at Per Se. I'll domesticate you boys yet."

     Vladimir and Anatoly Ranskahov slowly turned to face Owlsley, with the former saying, "This would be a balmy day in Samara, Leland."

     "Yes, it's perfect Chechnyans-kidnap-a-preschooler weather, Vladimir. Can you at least pretend to be cold? It's unsettling."

     When Madame Gao – who was seated beside Nobu Yoshioka – laughed and addressed Leland in Mandarin, the financier sighed, "Anyone here speak Chinese?"

     Met with glares from the Russian brothers, Owlsley turned to Yoshioka, "Nobu?"

     "The man is Japanese," Anatoly stated.

     "I know, I know, I just thought that...Forget it."

     When the business partners heard a metal elevator rattling to their floor, they quickly became silent.

     Spotting Wesley in the shadows, Leland said, "Oh, please tell me he's right behind you."

     "Unfortunately, my employer is attending to other matters. He apologizes to you in particular, Madame Gao."

     As Madame Gao bowed her head in respect, the Ranskahov brothers muttered amongst themselves in Russian.

     Eventually, Vladimir said, "We do not deal with lap dogs. Tell Mister—"

     "We do not say his name," a woman's voice warned from the darkness that pooled within the building.

     Wesley smirked, "My employer thought this might be the case, which is why he sent her in his place."

     Stepping aside, Wesley motioned to the woman who had spoken. A moment later, the Devil's Shadow moved into the light and leveled her cold gaze on the brothers.

     Anatoly bared his teeth in a wicked smile, "Woof, woof."

     Rather than gratifying him with a response, she said, "He would like to know why you're short on the cargo totals."

     Anatoly's smile faded, "There was a problem on the docks. Barrett and our men were attacked. Some moodak in a black mask."

     "And you bought that?" Leland laughed, though he quickly backed away when the brothers marched toward him. "Okay, calm down. Fine, we'll go with the man-in-black story."

     "Our men would not lie," Vladimir claimed.

     "I said I'm on board. I'm glad to hear there's some new blood running around out there. Heroes and their consequences are why we have our current opportunities. Now, can we review the latest numbers and—"

     "Tell me more about this man," the Shadow interrupted.

     "Took Barrett and our guys out while they were loading the container," Anatoly explained, the Russian raising his eyebrows in confusion when Madame Gao once again spoke in Mandarin.

     Wesley laughed in response, then translated, "She wants to know if this man stole the shipment for himself."

     "No," Vladimir answered. "He let the women go."

     "He took out your men. How?" the Shadow inquired.

     "Caught them by surprise. Beat them. With his bare hands."

     "Four men with his bare hands?"

     "That is what we were told," Anatoly replied.

     "Perhaps you should have been there yourself."

     Leland scoffed, "Again, I have to ask, why do we care? Every time one of these guys punches someone through a building, our margins go up three percent. We should be celebrating."

     "This is different," Wesley argued. "My employer will be...displeased...we're being inconvenienced by a lone vigilante."

     "Then he should tell me to my face," Vladimir countered, gesturing to the scar that ran over his right eye.

     Wesley only smiled, "This is on you. Deal with it. Quietly. Or my employer will send her to do your job for you."

     Anatoly looked from his brother to the Devil's Shadow before agreeing, "We must be quiet, yes. We would not want another Union Allied situation, would we?"

     Leland glared at Wesley, "Big, loud, lots of questions."

     "We're handling it."

     "Like you keep saying you're handling Prohaszka?" Vladimir retorted.

     "We're in the process of negotiating with Mr. Prohaszka."

     "Negotiating?" Anatoly repeated, closing the distance between himself and Wesley. "Maybe we handle our problem same way. Sit down with this man in black, break bread."

     "I think what Anatoly's trying to say is that it would be in our best interests for Union Allied to be tidied up as expeditiously as possible," Leland said in hopes of diffusing the tension.

     "As I said...we're handling it," Wesley reiterated, offering Anatoly a humorless smile as the Russian stole one last glance at the Devil's Shadow before reluctantly backing away.