A Really Good Lawyer [Spider-Man]

Chapter 6: What Happened to May Parker?

March has been abnormally cold this year. New Yorkers didn't tend to salt their rooftops or concern themselves with fire escapes coated in a layer of frost and ice, which made Daredevil's nightly activities all the more exciting. Despite the assault to his senses, Matt had fitted the interior of his gloves with a rubber grip after more than one slip had sent him tumbling to the asphalt. Until the city thawed, Matt had accepted that his hands would reek like bloody basketballs, iron-coated and heavy on his tongue. (And, yes, he had memories to associate with that scent. High school and accidental throws aimed at the unsuspecting blind kid had made for a hell of an introduction.)

The rubber had scraped against Peter's shoulder when he'd placed an uncertain hand there. The sweat that had frozen in droplets under Peter's suit had warmed under his touch, shifting the spandex fabric. Although spandex is a quieter fabric, he had still been able to listen to its soft scratches as Peter had told a story that had seemed equal parts thrilling and tragic.

It had been hard to believe, but he'd promised to believe anything that was the truth. Peter's voice still clung onto a note of youth, shaking as he told Matt about his mentor dying in front of him with a blend of shame and resignation. The air had been thick with icy tears as Peter stumbled over stories about his best friend and a first love. As much as Matt had wanted to fight or flee at first, it didn't feel right to leave without hearing Peter out.

But Matt didn't like surprises. He didn't like feeling tricked. And when Peter had played his hand, responding to Matt's Peter with a reply of Matt, he'd been, for lack of a better word, blindsided. His mind had flooded with a fear the public didn't believe he could feel. A scream had built up in his throat, primal and raw, and he'd tamped it down only to listen for the tell-tale signs of reinforcements. They'd sent Black Widow last time to deal with him. Matt hadn't entertained the thought that the (mostly) celebrated defender of Queens would be confronting him alone.

Peter had come to his office. He'd asked for help and Matt had believed him. Of course he'd believed him. As a Catholic, he had a soft spot for hopeless causes. Peter had promised that Spider-Man did his best to be a good person and his heart had beat nothing but truth.

However, Spider-Man had been an Avenger. He'd fought on the side of the Accords and had been heavily associated with Tony Stark. The definition of a good person could be so varied based on what one believes. So what reason did Matt have to think that they hadn't sent a naive and immature super-hero to prove Daredevil was enhanced before surrounding him?

Matt had led Peter further into Hell's Kitchen, keeping an ear out for the others that would surely follow. They'd settled on an old tenement building-- one of the highest points in the borough. Sound travels less distance in the winter. In the hotter months, Matt can hear a few miles away if he focuses. But when it's cold, it's better to be higher up, away from the sirens and cars and drunks stumbling home after one too many shots. He'd known what to listen for; he'd planned to flee at the first instance of quinjet engines or riot gear. There had been nothing.

Of course Tony Stark had shielded Spider-Man from the Accords. Of course they would never come to mind for a vigilante who'd rubbed elbows with the elite.

But Peter had wanted to talk, and, more than that, he wanted to network. All Matt had heard when the word left Peter's mouth was a kid trying desperately to sound adult. Lost, confused, and eager to make a friend. It had been like a blow to the chest.

People rarely seek Daredevil out with good intentions.

So he listens. People have left him all his life and he never wants to do that to someone else.