Edited: 03/01/22

Blair was on the phone to Claire, explaining that she wasn't at her dads and that Claire didn't need to worry about her and that she was in fact living her best life.

"Honestly, Claire I'm fine." Blair laughed, playing with the drawstrings on her hoodie, tucking her legs under her body.

"Yes, you've said, but what about your father?"

Blair wasn't sure what she thought about her father. Harry Scott clearly has something to do with Fisk, but she didn't know what, and that definitely pissed her off.

Much like any other person, she did not like knowing things. Especially things that affected her — like last night. But she supposed she could let of nearly getting jumped in her own home because it ended up with her having a very good night, and Matt by the seems of it.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there." Blair told her best friend.

"Right, I'm here if you need me, anyway, I've got to go work now."

"Ok, love you Claire bear."

"Love you to Blair-a-boo."

Blair ended the call leaving her in silence, she didn't have much with her, except a backpack with her laptop and her keys as well as some clothes, she didn't really need much after all.

She stood up, grabbing Matt's spare keys, her keys and her Chelsea boots and left. Blair needed other stuff, like her dance uniform and her work stuff.

She gathered Matt wouldn't be too impressed that she left, but at the end of the day he wasn't her owner.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Blair walked everywhere and anywhere. Which wasn't unlikely: first, she had no driving license; second, Blair had watched her mother get murdered in her own car.

Walking made her feel safe, she felt no need to jump into moving traffic if it was her feet taking her to one place and another. She had walked all the way back to her and Claire's apartment in order to grab more stuff.

More stuff that included things for ballet and work. It took a while to decide on a pair of ballet shoes — she has a wide collection of pointe shoes. She was hopefully going to be back in dance (taking it easy) in maybe a week or so.

Blair ended up going with her red pointe shoes, deciding if she was going back, she was going back in style. She didn't wear the red ones often, she only brought them for a dance show.

Her dance school was very strict when it came to the colour of their clothes and shoes — pink, nude and black only. However the new teacher was a lot nicer then her old one.

Her old teacher (that she had from the age of eight until she was fifteen) would shout at the girls for putting in weight and would make horrible comments loud enough for the whole class to hear. Many of the girls had followed the same path as Blair, forcing meals up and putting of eating. It was a shame to think of ten year olds (girls who didn't even understand nor cared for weight) having have such low self esteem.Blair looked in her full length mirror with a grimace, remember the torture she had forced herself to go threw in front of that mirror.

The ballerina picked up some jeans, shorts and other items clothes, and shoved them into a bag before leaving with anything she believed she'd need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Her walk to Matt's had been uneventful, no unexpected bombs or attacks. She was a little disappointed in some sick twisted way — but hey, at least she was safe, sat on the sofa editing her assessment. It was a boring process that was followed with mostly silence.

The news was playing from Matt's laptop, near where he stood. He was trying to find out something about Fisk, which meant he was often having to ask Blair to describe photos, until a live video came up and she could go back to typing.

"I'm not very good at this, out, being in public. But I felt the need to speak up for this city that I love with all my heart. No one should have to live in fear. In fear of madmen who have no regard for who they injure."

The duo perked up at the unfamiliar voice. Well, Matt had heard the voice before, and he could place it to the day Matt and Blair had almost finished everything altogether. He could place it to the day he could have regretted for the rest of his life. A day he often replayed in his head with guilt.

Blair could see Matt tense up when she turned and look at him, gently shutting her own laptop.

"In fear of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, who has inflicted untold pain and suffering. This masked terrorist and psychopaths of his kind, we must show them we will not bow down to their campaign of coercion and intimidation. We must stand up to them."

She disagreed heavily with his words. Blair stood up and came over to Matt.

His whole body was tense, his mind at a pause — he didn't even acknowledge that she was right there until Blair wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his arm.

He eased into the touch. Relaxing ever so slightly.

But as her eyes moved from his and too the screen her heart froze. She felt sick to her stomach. And suddenly it made sense — the anger, the odd periods of time he wasn't home. Everything made sense.

Harry Scott stood right besides the man who was talking — the man who had made Matt freeze up.

The two were fucked. Their lives were tied together in a messy bow. There was nothing glorious about this. Her father working for his enemy.

Matt knew there was something wrong by the way she reacted. The shift in breathing, her body tense against his and her momentary stop in her heart. But he couldn't move, nor could she.

Her whole life felt like a lie. How could he villain-ise her mum and adopted grandad when he was stood with a man that seemed to scare the vigilante of Hell's Kitchen — her father was nothing but darkness.

Harry Scott had no good things to his name. And it made her feel sick. Her perfect world was shattered more and more each day.

"As this man, my dearest friend, Leland Owlsley, a pillar in the financial community, stood up when he was recently assaulted. But this assault was for no other reason than to send me a message. A message warning me to stop."

She closed her eye, before opening them again, hoping for this all to stop, for it all to be one big lie. Maybe her dad could have the slightest of good in his heart. Maybe he could have a heart. But she was sure he had no heart.

"To give up my dream that I have for this city. A dream of a better place. A place for its citizens to feel safe. To feel pride. I tried to do this quietly, not wanting to draw attention. The last thing I wanted was for anyone close to me to become a target from those who do not share my dream. For those who will have this city stay exactly as it is, mired in poverty and crime. But I know now it was foolish to make that decision. That I can no longer do it alone.That I cannot keep living in the shadows afraid of the light. None of us can. None of us should be forced to. We must do this together. We must resist those who would have us live in fear."

"My name is Wilson Fisk. And together, we can make this city a better place."

Matt slammed the laptop shut as she clung to him. He turned in her tight grip and found the ability to hold her. To wrap his arms around her and give Blair the support she needed.

"He was there."

"Who was, sweetheart?"

"My dad."