Think of the Devil

Thirty-Five

A few short hours later, Matt and Jane sat in her car down the block from Mrs. Mahoney's apartment. It was morning, the sun occasionally peeking through a blanket of light gray clouds. The two were waiting for Ray Nadeem to get ready; the plan was to take him to Fogwell's Gym to meet with the District Attorney later that day. They'd already stopped by Matt's place to pick up a suit for him to wear for the meeting.

Jane sat with her elbow propped up on the door and her fingers threaded through her hair. She adjusted her sunglasses and yawned, the short sleep she had not enough to feel rested but enough to recharge her for the day ahead. She couldn't help but think back to waking up that morning, when she and Matt were still wrapped up around each other in bed.

When her phone's alarm had sounded, still discarded in her pants' pocket in the bathroom, Matt had slipped away to turn it off. She faintly remembered the kiss he'd placed on her forehead as he'd gotten up. She'd laid in bed an extra moment, letting the phantom pain his body had reflected onto her disappear. When he'd returned, he'd greeted her with another kiss and a low "Good morning, angel." The two had gotten dressed together quietly, hovering near each other like any small distance couldn't be allowed. They'd stood together at the bathroom sink while she brushed her teeth and he used her mouthwash. They'd shared the same glass of water to take a morning dose of aspirin, fighting off lingering head and body aches from the day prior. And when they'd finally gotten to her car outside, Matt had placed his hand on her thigh and held it there as they made it through the quiet streets.

They hadn't spoken much. Both were lost in their heads. Now that the whirlwind that was the day before had finished, there was a heavy feeling of grief that they struggled to balance with their hope. Jane still hadn't heard anything from Angélica, and she hoped that was a good sign. Matt was still reeling from Father Lantom's murder, realizing he'd never be able to speak with his mentor ever again. The counterweight on their emotional scales was their unity, knowing they had each other to lean on. They both clung to the notion that Nadeem was going to turn the table on Fisk. Having Foggy and Karen around to support them both was uplifting. They just had to make it through today.

Jane suddenly felt pressure as Matt gave her leg a gentle squeeze. She glanced down at where his hand remained above her knee before looking over at him. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes uncovered as his glasses sat on the dashboard. He was looking in her general direction, and when she didn't say anything his brows momentarily raised. (Did she hear me?)

Clearing her throat, she shook her head. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I asked if you were okay." His voice was low.

She chewed her cheek, knowing she couldn't lie to him but not wanting him to worry. A lot of their concerns were the same. "Are you?" she responded.

He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping him as he did. "I asked you first."

Her free hand came to rest over his, her glove stopping any jolt of mental connection. "I asked you second."

(Don't be like that.) His hand on her thigh turned over, palm facing up so he could intertwine their fingers. With a sigh, he said, "I'll be fine. Eventually."

"Same here," she breathed, looking at their hands.

His thumb started to trace the length of hers. He wanted to push, but he didn't want to take it too far. He knew she was worried about her family, and that their anxieties for the day and the plan were the same. He also knew it was hard for him to express himself emotionally and that she'd shown him the same tendencies. (I guess I'm lucky,) he thought to himself. (She never has to ask me how I'm feeling.)

A huff of laughter blew through Jane's nose at the idea. He thinks he's lucky. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'll try to get better about sharing. I don't mean to make you feel like you're pulling it out of me."