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punchdrunkdoc · 2 days

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Part 3, Chapter 17

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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PART 3

Chapter 17

Over the next few weeks, they found their groove as a couple, their lives settling into a more predictable routine. Matt would go to work during the day, while Calina spent her time either at the library researching the pheromone case, or going to dance classes, baking with Mrs Schneider, or wandering the city trying to find inspiration for what she was meant to do with her life.

In the evenings, they would have dinner - usually in Matt’s apartment, although Calina was often the one cooking. Then they would just…be together. She would read to him. They’d play chess or listen to music. Occasionally they went to Fogwells to spar, or to the bar around the corner to play pool and have a quiet drink together.

And when the sky darkened to pitch black, Matt would become Daredevil. The lawyerly suit would switch to red leather, and his kind, beautiful eyes would disappear behind the menacing mask. Calina would kiss her vigilant goodbye on the rooftop and watch him disappear into the depths of the capricious city he loved.

She would wait up for him - either in her bed or his. They still kept separate apartments, though that was the only separate thing about their relationship. She would pass the time reading a book or talking to one of the other Widows on the phone, all the while trying not to think about the danger Matt might be facing.

In the small hours of the morning, he would return to her. Sometimes too exhausted to do more than collapse on the mattress beside her. When that happened, she would help him undress, pulling the tight fitting suit from his body, and guiding him under the covers of the bed. She would stroke her fingers through his mussed hair, the soothing motion causing him to hum with pleasure under his breath. Then she’d give him a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and whisper ‘Goodnight, my love’.

Sometimes he would return injured, and as much as she hated seeing the damage to his body, the alternative was him never returning at all.

And that was an unbearable thought.

So she would tend to his wounds with loving care. Cuts and scrapes would be cleaned and bandaged. Pulled muscles would be iced and massaged. Deeper wounds would be sutured and dressed. And afterwards, they would make love. A slow, tender, gentle kind of lovemaking that wouldn’t pull on stitches or cause him to re-open wounds. She would always protest - not wanting to hurt him any further - but then she would always relent. She needed the intimacy as much as he seemed to crave it. She needed that life-affirming act of connection. The tangible proof that he’d made it back home to her - alive, if not always in one piece.

Some nights, though…

Some nights he would come to her still riding high on adrenaline. He’d stalk through the bedroom door like a predator, his every sense locked on her, chest heaving with deep breaths as if he’d run straight to her side. He’d kick off his boots, wrench the mask from his face and grab her in a bruising kiss.

They didn’t make love on those nights.

He fucked her instead.

Fast and hard.

And she loved every exhilarating second.

At the end of the night - whether he came to her tired, or hurt or aroused - they always fell asleep together. Deeply and peacefully, entwined in each others’ arms, looking forward to the moment they’d wake and get to do it all over again.

It was a routine. Mundane even, if viewed from the outside. But it was something neither of them had ever experienced before. It was special. Precious and exciting.

And every week - at least once, sometimes twice - they would go on a date.

They took turns to organise the outing, and it became another game between them: who could plan the more interesting date.

For Calina’s first time, she went the opposite route from the Rainbow Room. Elegance and opulence was traded for a more visceral experience. No fancy suits or velvet dresses. No crisp linen table cloths and crystal wine glasses. Instead, the two of them wore denim and sneakers, and sat on pillows strewn on the floor around a low table. They drank bottles of beer and ate with their hands.

“How did you hear about this place?” Matt asked, scooping up some spicy chickpea stew with a piece of injera - a thin flatbread that seemed to serve as both the plate and the cutlery for the meal.

The first few minutes in this place had been an assault on his senses. The strong, heady scents of ginger, cinnamon, cardamon and multiple other spices that he couldn’t even recognise swirled around him. The chatter of the other customers resonated in the small, hidden-away restaurant, and the very air was moist and heavy from the heat of the kitchen. But once they were settled at their table - and the delicious food started arriving - he forgot all of that.

“To be honest, Google.” Calina replied, “I just searched for the most authentic Ethiopian restaurant in New York, and this one came up top of all the lists.”

“Why Ethiopian?”

She shrugged. “The food in the Rainbow Room was amazing - but so much of it was about the presentation. Each dish was a work of art - which you weren’t able to fully experience. This food is different. It’s not about the looks or how its plated, its all about the feel and the taste and how you experience it with others.”

Matt smiled at her reasoning. She always made an effort to play to his senses - whether it be the choice of a restaurant, or the fabric of a dress - and he loved her for it. “So you’ve eaten somewhere like this before,” he guessed.

“You could say that,” she said. “I had a mission in northern Ethiopia several years ago.”

“In Africa?”

She laughed at the disbelief in his voice. “Yes. That’s where Ethiopia is.”

Matt chuckled and ducked his head. “Sorry. Yeah, I know. I just…I’ve never even left the east coast, let alone this continent.”

There was so much that Calina had never experienced - simple things that most other people on the planet took for granted - which sometimes made her seem naive and unworldly. But, in other ways, she was so much more worldly than him. She’d traveled the globe, and encountered so many other cultures and lived so many different lives. And even though none of it had been through her own choice or free will, she’d still lived those lives. “Tell me about it,” he urged, continuing his quest to complete the picture of her past. “If you’re comfortable with sharing,” he added, not wanting to sound pushy.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that gave her the courage; or maybe she’d come to terms more with her past and her lack of culpability for what she’d done. Or maybe the ‘mission’ wasn’t as heinous as some of the others she’d been forced to carry out. Whatever the reason, Calina surprised him by actually opening up. “I was there for a few weeks with another Widow. We were posing as volunteers with Médecins Sans Frontières. There was a doctor - an immunologist - heading up a vaccination project in the northern rural villages near the border with Eritrea. Well, that’s what he claimed, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was illegally experimenting on the villagers - injecting them with a manufactured strain of anthrax, trying to perfect a bioweapon which he planned to sell to the highest bidder.”

“Jesus. And I suppose your bosses in the Red Room wanted to be the highest bidder?”

Calina laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. “No. Dreykov never paid for something he could just take instead. That’s why we were sent in. My job was to gain the Doctor’s trust and steal his research, and my partner’s job was to kill him.” She paused and looked away. “We both succeeded.”

The weight of those three words hung over the table, but Matt found himself unable to care too deeply about the fate of a man who harmed some of the most vulnerable people on the planet - people he was tasked to protect and care for.

Calina cleared her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dwell on that side of the story. I actually have a good memory associated with that mission - I think it was part of the reason I chose to bring you here.”

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“There was a nurse who worked on the project. She was a good person - she had no idea what the doctor was doing. She was Ethiopian herself, and was just trying to help the people of her country. She took me under her wing - I was only 20 at the time, and was playing the role of a guileless gap-year student, so I guess she felt protective of me. She used to take me out to her favourite restaurants for dinner and teach me all about her culture - like gursha.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the act of feeding someone - a big thing in Ethiopia. It’s a sign of respect and friendship. She told me a fable about it - how there was once a cruel king who came up with a new method of starving his people. He would put them in an arena around a huge table of food, but give them only long silver spoons to eat it with. The people would try and try, but they could never get the spoons to their mouths.”

As Calina recounted the tale, her voice became soft and low, a lilting, melodic tone similar to the one she used when reading to him at night. She was a natural storyteller, and she held him captive with her words, the food forgotten in front of him.

“One day, one of the peasants had an idea: ‘Me to you, and you to me,’ he said to the others. And so they began feeding each other across the table using the long spoons. The king, angry at his failure, stormed out of the arena. But the people who had witnessed the spectacle returned home and tried it themselves, feeding each other at dinner that evening. But they had to do it by hand because they didn’t have long spoons.” Calina shrugged as the tale ended. “Whether its true or not, I like the message: that if we don’t feed each other, we all go hungry.”

“If we don’t work together, we all suffer.”

“Basically.”

“You do love a good proverb.”

She laughed, the mood successfully lightened from earlier. “Yeah, maybe that’s where I got it from. I couldn’t appreciate what the nurse said at the time - I couldn’t even appreciate the taste of the food that she fed me - but it stuck with me all these years.”

“And now you can appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Now I can. And now I get to share it with you.” She reached across the table to him, a piece of injera in her hand. He opened his mouth and she placed the food inside, brushing her thumb against his lower lip to catch a stray morsel of food.

He swallowed and caught her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. “Thank you for sharing,” he said, both of them catching the double meaning of his words.

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

———

When Matt planned a date, he used it as a chance to fill in some missing part of Calina’s adolescence. To let her ‘catch up’ some more.

One night he took her to see a movie, in a tiny independent cinema that had traditional red velvet seats and popcorn slathered in butter. He chose a showing of an old 80s action flick that he remembered seeing as a kid - which meant he could enjoy it along with her - although he ended up paying more attention to Calina than the movie. He smiled as she gasped at the plot twist, as she flinched at a sudden burst of gun fire, as she scoffed at the unrealistic martial arts scenes.

It was so much more entertaining than the film.

On a different date, he took her to the amusement park in Coney Island - the quintessential teenage hangout. As they strolled along the boardwalk hand in hand, Calina’s excitement was palpable. She kept squeezing his hand and exclaiming every time she spotted something new and interesting.

“Look,” she said, pointing to something in the distance. “There’s a rollercoaster!”

Matt laughed. “I can hear it, even if I can’t see it.”

“Sorry,” she said, and he heard the wince in her voice. “It’s just so…overwhelming. I’ve never been anywhere like this!”

He smiled, glad that he’d made the right choice. By the time they reached the entrance to Luna Park they were both chilled from the salt-laden breeze coming off the sea, the day overcast and slightly cooler than usual for early April. But Calina didn’t seem to mind. She was practically jogging by that point, dragging him with her as she headed for the first booth - an old-fashioned shooting game, where players were tasked with hitting a series of targets with an air rifle.

For someone with Calina’s training, hitting all the bullseyes would have been a piece of cake - and perhaps a little conspicuous. Matt knew she was used to hiding her skills, and hated to attract attention, so he wasn't surprised when she opted to play the part of a novice instead. The first time she fired off a shot, it went very wide of the mark. “Oops,” she laughed. “Guess it’s not as easy as it looks.”

Matt shook his head in amusement - until the man waiting in line behind them decided to voice his opinion. “See, this is what I always say, son,” he said to the young boy next to him. He spoke in a mock-whisper, clearly intending for his insults to be overheard. “Men just have better hand-eye co-ordination. Shooting comes more natural to us. Its evolution - we were out doing the hunting, while the women tended the fire in the cave.”

Matt raised an eyebrow at the misogynistic comment. But before he could interject, a quick series of ‘pings’, rang out - the sound of multiple targets being shot dead centre.

“We have a winner!” the attendant announced to the crowd. “Pick your prize, Miss,” he said to Calina.

She placed the rifle back down on the counter, chose an obnoxiously large stuffed bear, and walked off, pointedly ignoring the sexist asshole behind her.

“That was a thing of beauty,” Matt whispered to her as they moved away from the game. He draped his arm over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “But I hope he didn’t spoil your fun.”

She laughed. “Hardly. The look on his face was the highlight of the day so far.”

“Well, lets see if we can top it. How about a ride on that rollercoaster?” He pointed to his right, where the sounds of mechanical whirring and terrified screaming were coming from.

She looked up at the tall structure. “Hmmm, I don’t know. It’s gotta be at least 120 feet high. With a 90 degree sheer drop, and all those loops…it looks far too tame and boring for someone who somersaults off skyscrapers every night.”

Matt shrugged, playing along. “It’ll be nice and relaxing. Maybe I’ll take a nap during the ride.”

She giggled in response, the sound so light and breezy. He’d noticed such a change in her over the past month. Gaining her freedom from Volkov had lifted a weight from her that he hadn’t even noticed before. She seemed younger, more relaxed. And he didn’t want anything to ever ruin that. He wanted to protect her from all the ugliness of the world - even the parts she'd already seen.

She deserved to be happy. To live her life like any other carefree woman in her 20s.

Which probably explained why he made such a stupid mistake six days later.

They were on another date, this time strolling along the High Line - a public park built on top of an old elevated freight train track. They’d just finished dinner in a nearby restaurant and were enjoying a stroll along the 30-feet high garden. The night sky was clear and dry, but the warmth of spring still hadn’t quite kicked in yet. Matt tucked Calina into his side, one arm wrapped around her shoulders to help her keep warm. “Should we just head home,” he suggested. “It’s colder than I thought it’d be.”

“I don’t mind. This is nice.” She burrowed a bit closer to him, her arm around his waist beneath his jacket, and they continued walking. They didn’t speak much, just content to enjoy the atmosphere and their time together.

Until a sudden breeze brought the scent of trouble.

Matt’s steps faltered ever so slightly as he picked up the familiar acrid smell of the fear pheromone.

Someone nearby was carrying a canister of it.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he lied. Then he lied some more. “I’m gonna grab us some hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yeah. I can smell a vendor’s cart underneath us. You wait here - go sit on that bench over there. I know your knee is hurting you.”

The last part was the truth, at least. Whenever Calina was on her feet for more than a few hours, it would start to twinge. He could always tell by the subtle change in her gait, the way she would favour her right leg a little more.

And he convinced himself that her injury was the reason he kept the truth from her. The reason he snuck away from her to follow the smell of the pheromone.

The reason he lied.

It was all to protect her.

But that rationale didn’t alleviate his guilt. His stomach churned with it as he jogged down the stairs to street level, folding away his cane and pulling the brim of his ball cap low to hide his dark glasses. His conscience nagged him as he tracked the scent trail along the block to his right.

But then he sighted his prey, and everything else fell away.

The man was loitering across the road, near the entrance to the 23rd street station. He was dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase - very different from the thugs Matt had previously encountered with the pheromone spray. But the scent was unmistakeable. It clung to the man’s clothes, and was concentrated in his right pant’s pocket, which was distorted by a slight bulge.

As the man waited for…something…he kept reaching his hand into that pocket, as if to reassure himself that the canister was still present.

Matt’s phone vibrated in his own pocket - probably Calina wondering what was taking so long. He ignored it, causing his guilt to spike, but he couldn’t afford to lose this guy. They hadn’t had a decent lead in this case for months - they were still sifting through their list of suspects, and there’d been no recent attacks in Hell’s Kitchen to follow up on.

Which made sense, if the operation had moved here, to Chelsea.

The man across the street checked his watch - whoever he was waiting for was late. Matt checked his own watch and cursed - he’d been gone too long. He needed to tell Calina what was going on. He took out his phone to call her and noticed her message.

And his blood ran cold.

Man on the High Line carrying a briefcase full of pheromone canisters. I’m tracking him. Call me.

Matt quickly dialled her number but it rang out.

Shit.

He lifted his head and listened for the sounds coming from the direction of the park, but there was nothing to indicate where Calina was...

Then the screeching of tires.

Screams…

And the crunch of metal hitting flesh.

Matt ran. He ignored the man waiting by the station, his mission abandoned without second thought. He just turned on his heels and barrelled back down the street, somehow knowing - sensing in his gut - that the car accident had something to do with Calina.

He arrived at the scene in minutes. An abandoned saloon car, the hood caved in, sat in the middle of the junction. The sounds of distant sirens filled his ears as the first responders closed in…and a body lay on the road in a crumpled heap, several people crowded around it.

Heart in his throat, the organ pounding with fear, Matt muscled his way through the crowd to get closer. He took in the size of the body, the scent…

Then stumbled back, relief crashing over him.

It wasn’t her.

It wasn’t Calina.

But he could scent her on the air. She’d been here - just moments ago.

He grabbed the arm of a bystander. “What happened?”

“It- it was all so fast,” the woman stuttered, sounding shocked. “A man staggered into the street, he looked drunk. Then a car came out of nowhere - speeding, I think - and hit him.”

“He wasn’t drunk,” another voice chimed in. It came from the man in the news kiosk behind them. “He looked scared to death. A woman approached him - tried to help. But he just sprayed something in her face, then ran away from her, into the oncoming traffic.”

“The woman, what did she look like?”

“Young. Tall, beautiful. Jesus, I hope it wasn’t acid that he sprayed.”

Matt ignored him, his fear back with a vengeance. Calina had been hit with the pheromone.

Fuck!

“What happened to her?” Matt barked. “Where did she go?”

The man in the kiosk shook his head. “Dunno, man. I lost track. Like the lady said, it all happened so fast.”

“Where did he spray her?”

The man pointed further down the street. Matt ran, barging through the growing throng of gawking pedestrians. He tried to shut out the sounds of the chaos around him - the sirens getting louder, the car horns blasting in chorus, the mutterings and murmurs of the onlookers - he needed to blot out everything but Calina, and find her.

The pheromone scent grew stronger as he ran, until it concentrated at the front entrance of a high rise building. Calina’s scent was here too - as well as a hefty dose of adrenaline - and both disappeared into the building.

Matt shoved through the glass doors and into the foyer, and followed the trail to the bank of elevators. He slammed the button to call the elevator and started pacing the tiled floor in front of it, his heart thudding with terror as he waited, every second feeling like a lifetime.

He knew exactly where Calina had gone.

His mind kept replaying the memory from last year, of another terrified young woman dosed on pheromones that he’d failed to save.

The one who’d found the highest roof possible…and leapt to her death.

————–

Chapter 18 coming soon...

Remember to check out the references page!

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

#daredevil #daredevil fic #tabula rasa #daredevil fanfic #daredevil x original female character #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #marvel's daredevil #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x oc

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punchdrunkdoc · 3 days

Text

Masterlist

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and I’m trying something new - posting on Wattpad

Reference pics and stuff

Fancasting

PART 1:

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19. COMPLETE!

PART II: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21 COMPLETE!

PART III: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21

#just finished chapter 20 #we're getting close to the end of part 3!#EEEK! You're so not ready for it!!#tabula rasa #Daredevil #Daredevil fic #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x original character #matt murdock x original female character #daredevil x original female character #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction

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punchdrunkdoc · 6 days

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Chapter 17 is up - mostly mushy stuff where Matt and Calina go on lots of dates...but then something happens at the end (doesn't it always with these two?)

Masterlist

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and I’m trying something new - posting on Wattpad

Reference pics and stuff

Fancasting

PART 1:

#Daredevil #Daredevil fic #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x original character #daredevil x original female character #matt murdock x original female character #Tabula rasa #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction

207 notes · View notes

punchdrunkdoc · 7 days