Karen's Apartment
Two Months Ago

"I thought we've been going your place long enough that I should finally bring you to mine," Karen said, flicking on a small light in her apartment.  Matt smiled, leaning his cane in the corner of the room.  "It's not much, and it's a lot smaller than yours, but..."

"It's nice," said Matt.

Karen nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, and then she set her purse down on the counter.

Matt wandered into her bedroom, his fingers running across the walls, feeling the many bullet holes scattered among the drywall.  Despite many objections from, well, practically everyone, Karen insisted that she stay in her apartment after the Blacksmith attempted to kill her.  She somehow felt a strange connection to her apartment, and how much has happened inside it.  Perhaps it was a magnet to these types of things, but she didn't mind too much.  Not anymore.

She opened her refrigerator, searching for some dinner.

"Oh, shit," she said.

"What?" Matt asked, turning around.  "What's wrong?"

Karen closed the refrigerator door, embarrassed, tapping her fingers on the top.  "I don't have any food."  She opened the doors to her cabinets, searching for things that she could fix.  The only foods she could find were ingredients, spices, and a couple of meat patties.  And, it was a little late to start anything from scratch.

"What about these?" suggested Matt, picking up a box of Ramen noodle packs.

"Aw, you don't want those..." said Karen.

"I do, actually.  Something nice and simple."

"Um...okay."  Karen picked up a pot, heading over to the sink.  Matt gently laid his fingers on hers as she held the handle, causing her to stop.

"If you don't mind," Matt said with a smirk.  "It's a childhood thing."

"Oh, really?"  Karen raised her eyebrows, allowing him to take the pot from her.  He filled it with water, then set it on the stove.

"I fixed them a lot on nights my dad fought."  He turned the knob that started the stove burner, listening to the clicks until he reached the desired setting.

"I eat them when I don't feel like cooking much," said Karen.  "Which usually happens a lot."  They both laughed.

Matt cocked his head, his teeth gleaming in the low light.  "Sometimes the motivation is just not there."

"I'll drink to that," said Karen.  "And that is something I do have."  She threw her index finger in the air as she reopened her refrigerator and pulled out two beers.

Matt chuckled.  "Beer and Ramen noodles. What a combination."

"The more I think about it, the less weird it sounds," said Karen.  They both simultaneously opened their beer bottles and took a first sip.

Matt could feel the steam, even from his several-foot distance, of the water heating up.  Eventually, large bubbles built up until it was at a boil that was loud and clear in his ears, and he dropped three Ramen noodle blocks into the water, stirring them with a wooden spoon.

As he stirred, he observed her apartment in more detail, searching for objects that they might use or talk about.  When he found something he liked, the corners of his mouth turned upward.

Matt set the spoon down for a moment, walking effortlessly to the corner of her dining area.  Karen watched him with curiosity.  Matt's fingers turned the knob as he pressed the power button and tuned the radio to one of his favorite stations, feeling the different radio waves until they were the right ones.

The music was calm and a little romantic.  This specific song was only instrumental.

Matt returned to the stove, stirring the noodles once more.

"I haven't used that radio in...months?  Years?  I don't even know," Karen said.

"It is a little bit dusty," said Matt, humorously.  He drained the noodles, then spooned them out onto two plates.

Matt handed her a plate and a packet of chicken flavor. 

"Thanks," Karen said.  She took her plate to the table, sitting in one of the two chairs.

Matt followed her to the table with his own plate and beer.  He opened his flavor packet and gave his noodles only a light dusting, while Karen poured the entire pack on hers.

They both began to eat their noodles.  Matt relived memories of his father and childhood while Karen tried to decide if she wanted more chicken flavor from Matt's packet or not.  But either way, they both enjoyed the other's company more than anything else.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Matt's Apartment
Present Day

Matt opened his laptop and played the morning news while he prepared himself some breakfast.  He planned to call Karen and tell her about Foggy's proposition.  He wanted to hear her opinion on the matter.

Matt wasn't particularly good at opening up to people.  He had Foggy, but there were still a few boundaries between the two of them, such as how far they're willing to go for justice.  Karen, however, was much more understanding, and she had a certain empathy for criminals.

Not that Matt was a criminal, of course, but she still knows that there's a reason for everything, and that Matt had an obligation to being Daredevil.  Karen understood this obligation much more than Foggy, so she was much more accepting of it.  After a great deal of convincing, Karen had actually managed to persuade Matt to reluctantly allow her to help him with a few of his night missions that didn't go away as quickly as he'd hoped.  But nothing that would put her in harm's way.

The only other woman he'd met that had this same feeling, this specific understanding of obligation, was Elektra.  The difference between Elektra and Karen was the way they were raised into it.  Elektra was trained from a young age to fight and kill, so she knew the sacrifices that had to be made.  Karen had gone through tragedies in her lifetime that caused her pain and suffering, but she pulled through them all, which Matt admired her for.  Karen was the strongest woman he'd ever known.

The night Elektra died, Matt had told her that he was willing to go anywhere with her, and that with her he felt things he felt nowhere else, with no one else.  The more time that is put between then and now, the more Matt discovered that those words were less of what he felt and more of what she needed to hear.  Yes, she was extraordinary, and yes he loved her, but she was the Black Sky, and, whatever that was, it altered her in a way that made her dark and dangerous.

And, before they fought the Hand on that rooftop, they both knew their odds, and they weren't good.  Matt just wanted to say something that could get them both through the fight alive, but it just wasn't enough for her.  Matt wasn't sure which was worse: the fact that she died and he didn't, or that she died believing something that wasn't entirely true.

Perhaps Matt had been so heartbroken about Karen that he defaulted back to Elektra.  He didn't even know.  Everything happened so fast, and that's what felt right at the time.

After Matt finished his breakfast, he called Karen.

"Hey, Matt," she said.  He loved hearing her voice.

"Foggy came to see me yesterday."

"Really?" There was surprise in her voice, but also relief.  She didn't like the tension between the two friends any more than Matt did.

Matt explained the new situation between him and Foggy.  After he was finished, he asked Karen for advice.

"Well, you don't exactly have a job right now," Karen said.  "You need money."

"This should be more than just a financial decision," replied Matt.  "And it's not like we made much at Nelson and Murdock, anyway."

"I know.  And you're right; this isn't just about the money.  It's about you and Foggy, and it's about your passions."  There was a pause as Matt heard her swallowing some type of beverage, which was probably milk, as she was eating her own breakfast.  "You're lawyers, and you seek justice.  Even if you have a night job where you do the same thing...in a different way."

"So you think I should go back?"

"I always loved seeing you as a lawyer.  You're so smart, and you are one of the few good ones out there who isn't there for the money, but for the people.  This city needs you in a suit, Matt. And not just the red one."

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Karen's Apartment
Two Months Ago

Karen swallowed her last bite of Ramen noodles.  "These taste so much better than when I make them, and I don't do them any differently."  She looked at Matt with a grin, which he returned.  "Maybe it's just because you're here."

The music still played calmly and sweetly, echoing throughout her apartment.

Matt stood up and held his left hand hand out to her.  "Come here."

Karen placed her hand in his, and he lifted her to her feet.  He took a few steps back and pulled her strongly yet gently, and she giggled, stumbling happily after him.

"I've never been much of a dancer," he whispered into her ear.  "But you make me want to."  Karen's smile widened, and their fingers interlaced.  Matt placed his free hand on her side, and she placed hers on his shoulder.

Matt guided their movements solely with his left hand, and they glided to the music, spinning in circles so slowly and gracefully that Karen hardly noticed.  She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder.

"For not being much of a dancer, you sure are good at it," she said.  "Most guys I've danced with have tripped."

Matt laughed, and she could feel his chest vibrate as he did so.  "Well, uh, thank you."

Karen looked up at Matt and smiled.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

Foggy's Apartment
Present Day

Foggy's phone rang.  When he looked at the screen, he saw that Brett Mahoney was calling him.  He accepted the call.

"Hey, man.  What's up?"

"Just another day at the office," Brett replied, but there was heavy sarcasm.  "We arrested a girl last night for multiple accounts of armed robbery.  Says she didn't do it.  Sounds like your kind of case."

"I--I'm not at a law firm anymore...at the moment," said Foggy.

"Well she wants you.  She said that that if Nelson and Murdock does not represent her, she wishes to represent herself.  She is refusing the assignment of a public defender."

"Why would she ask for Nelson and Murdock?  We've been gone for months."

"She said you're the only lawyers she trusts, and that will trust her, despite the odds.  And the odds aren't so great."

"Oh." Foggy wasn't sure what to say.

"Look, I know that none of it's really possible, but I thought I'd still ask, just so you knew.  And tell Matt hi or something; I haven't seen him in awhile.  Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's fine."  Foggy ran a hand through his hair.  "Hey, I'll get back to you on this later, okay?  Just give me a couple of hours."

"Um, okay," said Brett.  There was a short pause.  "You really think you can do it, don't you?"

"Maybe."

"Okay..." Brett's voice was full of doubt.  "Well, I'll talk to you later, then."

"Okay." Foggy hung up.

Foggy decided to head back over to Matt's house to deliver him the news.  Besides, talking face-to-face was much more personal and professional.

Foggy headed out to the sidewalk and flagged down a taxi.  Once one stopped, he opened the door and climbed in.  He made eye contact with the brawny driver in the rearview mirror.  He had a scar on his face that began above his right eye, went across the bridge of his nose, and ended on his left cheek.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Uh..." Foggy lost his train of thought.

"Hello?  You okay?" said the driver.  He turned to face Foggy, then snapped in front of his face.  "Wake up, princess.  If you don't want to go anywhere, get your ass back on the sidewalk, because plenty of other people could use a ride."

Foggy, blinked, shocked at the driver's attitude.  He finally told the man Matt's address.

The driver turned back around, placing his hands on the wheel.  "Finally."  He stomped the gas pedal so hard that Foggy gasped, and his head jerked back.

Scarface is a maniac!  Foggy thought.  He gripped his briefcase so tight that his knuckles turned white.  He clenched his teeth.

When Scarface swerved through traffic and slammed on the breaks so suddenly that Foggy thought he was going to die, that's when he yelled at him.

"What the hell, man?"  Foggy shouted.  "Let me out!"

That only caused Scarface to drive faster.  Foggy's heart rate was so fast that he thought it was going to blow out of his chest.

Finally, the taxi screeched to a halt outside Matt's apartment building.  Foggy stumbled out of the taxi, breathing heavily, not even bothering to pay the driver.

"Hey, buddy!" Scarface yelled.  "Give me my money!"

"How about you give me back the ten years of my life that I just lost?" Foggy yelled back, hurrying his way to Matt's door.

At first, he thought the driver was going to get out and choke him to death, so his pace quickened.  Matt can beat his ass.  I surely can't.  Not with his biceps twice the size of my head.

Instead, the tires squealed as Scarface drove away.  Foggy let out a deep breath that he didn't even know he was holding, his eyes squeezed shut.

Matt opened the door before Foggy could knock.  He didn't need spectacular hearing to catch on to what was going on outside.

There was deep concern in Matt's eyes, and when he realized that it was Foggy standing before him, the concern doubled.

"Hey," said Foggy, his voice shaky.

"Hey," said Matt.  "Are you all right?"

"It'll probably take me two years to finally ride in another taxi, but yeah, I'm good."  Foggy adjusted the briefcase strap on his shoulder.  "You wanna drive me around, instead?"

"I'm blind, Foggy," said Matt, playing along with Foggy's slight humor, allowing him to come inside.

"I still trust you more than that guy," said Foggy.  "I'm beginning to understand more and more about why Scarface has a scar on his face."

"Scarface, huh?" said Matt.

"Seemed fitting."  They stopped walking at the end of Matt's small hallway.  "So, uh, Brett called me today."

"What did he say?"

"There's a girl they arrested for multiple accounts of armed robbery."

"You are really determined to get back into this, aren't you?" said Matt.  "You've already picked us out a case and everything, and I haven't even said yes."

"The girl asked for us," Foggy explained.  "She is refusing to have anyone else represent her."

"Why us?" Matt asked.

"She said we were the only people she trusted.  She thinks we are the only people that can,--and are willing to--help her out of this."

Matt's eyes wandered to the floor as he pondered the situation.

"Look, Matt.  I wanted you to have more time to think about this.  I didn't want it to be thrown in your face.  But this girl may be innocent, and if we don't do something about it, she could face some jail time and a permanent record that she isn't proud of."  Foggy sighed.  "The least we can do is hear her out, and you can decide, with your mojo stuff, if she is guilty or not."

Matt wiped his mouth with his hand thoughtfully.  After a few moments, he finally spoke.

"Okay," he said.  "I'll do it."

"Really?" Foggy said, surprised.

"The two people I've talked to about it seem pretty confident in me, even though they are the ones I let down.  I suppose that is a good motivation."  Matt allowed the corner of his mouth to slide upward.

°•°•°•°• ó-ò •°•°•°•°

The 15th Precinct

"Man, my heart was pounding on the way here," said Foggy.  "I'm sure it hurt your ears."  Foggy watched the taxi that they'd just ridden in as it drove away, relieved that it wasn't a ride like the one with Scarface.

"I could tell," said Matt, "but it wasn't any louder, just faster."

"Don't get all technical with me," Foggy teased.  He opened the door to the building and walked inside, allowing Matt to walk in first, his cane tapping the ground in a nice rhythm.

"Well look who it is," Brett Mahoney said.  Matt's head twitched as he located the direction Brett's voice was coming from.  "Looks like you did it after all."

"I'm just that charming," said Foggy.

"Right," Brett replied.  "It's good to see you, Matt."  Matt, sensing Brett's desire to shake Matt's hand, offered his.  Brett accepted it, giving it two strong shakes.

"You too," Matt greeted.  "So, what's the story?"

"Jenna Lawrence.  Several small shops and convenience stores called in armed robberies by a female suspect matching her description.  We also have her on security footage from most of those locations.  She claims that she didn't do it, and she insists on having you two represent her."

"Did you catch her in the act?  Where did you arrest her from?" asked Matt.

"The amount of evidence we collected forced us to find her home and take her from there, due to the impending threat of another robbery.  But we didn't see any more evidence in her house for the investigation.  No guns, knives, anything," said Brett.  "I'll take you guys to her."