Edited: 23/09/23

Men are an issue. They always would be, always have been. She may not necessarily believe murder was always the answer, but some days she could let it slide. Matt had taught her that murder was a big no go, especially after there three AM fight last night after her "shenanigans" of beating up low life's.

Matt was completely against murder. Blair believed some people deserved it. Sometimes it was an issue between them, but they often put it aside in a heated make out session. Not that either of them minded. It was sometimes confusing, they hadn't called each other a partner yet every night they winded up at one of their apartments. It was so bad that even Foggy would pop up at Blair's in the morning with breakfast for the three off them.

Despite the breakdown that followed the previous night, Blair had almost enjoyed the night. She could finally understand why her mother had followed Stick, she understood why Matt ran around the streets looking out for the rest of those that couldn't and Blair finally felt free. Tension that once built up in her body, heart and mind was all gone.

But tonight, tension has rebuilt. News played from the radio informing everyone of the releases that happened the previous night. Work was hard. She wiped the tables in a vigorous motion, was short with guests and didn't want to be there. Maybe she should have called in sick.

The Devils Tea was almost quite. Mind it was one fifty AM. But, the one group of people there, we're obnoxious, something no one wanted to deal with, especially ten minutes before the end of their shift.

Blair was sure if they asked for a side of her one more time she was going to spill the dark liquid over them. She stood behind the till, her foot tapping loudly, the radio ringing in her head. She could not bring on a false smile, she could not stand to be there.

Blair almost wanted to pick the screen up and lob it through the glass. She wanted to scream and scream until her lungs gave out. Blair wanted to throw up, hurt someone, she wanted anything to stop the hatred that plastered her heart, held her heart stiff in its place, unable to change, unable to beat, unable to move on.

Bad people always got a second change. Her father had had millions and millions, her mother? Her mother had one.

The door rang it's little noise, Reyna stepped in. Blair was free.

She grabbed two cups of coffee, a salted caramel latte and a black americano and made her way to the table. A table a man sat at. "Are you a solider?" She asked, her voice a void, sucking in life as it gave nothing back. She slid the darker liquid over.

The man looked at her. "I've been to war."

"I think I'm going to war." She told him, sipping on the burning liquid. "Is it hard?"

The man almost looked cold. Like herself. His eyes were dark with shadows of torture and past, he had seen things, she found tell. His skin was rough woth yeh wounds that broke lives, and destroyed love.

Her whole life she had seen war, her whole life she had been exposed to it. And now? Now it was real. Her father was out there and now he had taken it further and further across the line. She was prepared to cross no man's land, to step onto his side and tear him down. He ruined her mother, he destroyed peoples lives and now she had enough.

"The hardest thing you can do, sunshine. What war?"

She wasn't bright. She mo longer shined, Blair was dull with fatigue and anger.

"With my father. My mother and grandad were soldiers."

"What happened to her?"

Blair met the man's eyes. "Car accident. She was sent out to do work, the car was set ablaze. No one saved her, they let her die in the car. There was no body left in the end."

His dark coffee was practically gone already. "I lost my wife and children."

"I'm sorry."

He shook his head, no more words left the two. For almost an hour they were there drinking coffee Reyna made for them.

Until her face dropped. A man stood the other side of the glass door, his hand aoon to meet the handle. Blair stood up. She turned to the man she had intruded on. "Blair Scott."

"Frank Castle."

And with those words she was gone. Her hair pulled up, her shoulders set in stone. Her fist shaking. She so wanted to throw up again.

Harry Scott stood unashamed on the other side of the glass. His shoulders relaxed, ease on his face.

She pushed him. Once. Twice. Even a third time. She pushed him back into the alley near by. He breathing ragged, her body shaking. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She demanded, pushing him back until his back hit the wall. Blair stepped back to make her space. "Why would you come here? I hate you!"

"I want to talk."

She shook her head, feet tapping hard against the cold floor. "No. I will not talk to you. I don't want you, I don't forgive you."

"We will talk."

"Talk to Fisk!" She snapped. "Talk to mum, maybe she'll forgive." If this was a cartoon her face would be read, her body would be shaking and smoke would fly out of her ears.

"I'm your father!"

"You betrayed my trust, you spoke bad about my mom, you nearly got me killed, you fucked up again and I'm not going to forgive you, it's not the first time you've screwed me over and I doubt it would be the last time if I forgive you. So I do not forgive you."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Four AM and they should be in bed. They should be asleep. But Matt took her out to a boxing ring. She wanted to fight; she wanted to scream or cry or throw up.

Matt was a hero, Matt saved lives.
Blair was a mess, Blair fell apart.

"And he tries to talk to me." She spoke, spinning away from Matts punch. "Tells me he wants to talk like he deserves forgiveness."

Blair loved to spin. She danced and danced. Fighting was like dancing, everyone had their own routine, their own beats, the music in there ears. Fighting was like ballet. Each and every move had a reason and a purpose, each led to a plan.

Her leg met his chest pushing him back. Matt grabbed her ankle, tugged her. Blair's back met the matt.

"You need to pay attention." Matt told her helping her back up. "Especially if you think you're able to just go in the streets."

"We'll typically I don't rant about my problems to low lives."

"I'm a lowlife?" Matt asked, his hands meeting her elbows bringing her close to him.

Blair looked up, her lips ghosting against his. "The lowest." She confirmed, her hands finding the collar of his top, tugging his chest to rest on hers.

His right hand left her elbow, snaked it's away across her back, grabbed a hand full of her and pulled. Her breath echoed in his ears. "And what does that make you."

She had no answer, not when his lips touched her neck.