The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

15

The static that clung to her shimmered faintly in the air, invisible to anyone else, but alive.

When she stepped out into the living room again, Foggy looked up—and immediately froze.

"Damn," he breathed. "Okay, now I feel underdressed."

Annalise smiled faintly, but didn't answer. She crossed the room without a word, moving straight toward him. Her eyes found his, and for a second, he seemed caught off guard.

"What's wrong?" he asked, half-laughing.

She sat beside him slowly, closer than before. And then—without fanfare—she reached out and placed two fingers gently waving her hand above him.

Foggy blinked. "Uh—"

"Relax," she said softly.

The shift was immediate.

He didn't notice it at first. But his chest loosened. His jaw unclenched. The weight that had been pressing down on him, tightening around his ribs since they got the message about Karen, eased. His hands stopped fidgeting.

Foggy blinked again, slower this time. "What did you just—?"

"Warm-up," she said lightly, echoing the earlier lie. "You were buzzing like a broken wire. Had to fix it."

He looked down at her hand, then at her, brows still knit. "You're kind of terrifying."

She smirked. "Takes one to know one, Counselor."

Matt leaned against the wall nearby, arms folded, listening. He could tell. Foggy's breathing had evened out. The dread had bled away from the air in the room.

He didn't say anything. But she felt it.

She'd done what needed doing.
Not just suiting up.
She'd anchored them both.

-

The scent of salt and rust lingered thick in the air. Moonlight danced faintly off metal shipping containers, casting long shadows across the maze of industrial steel and chain-link fences. Distant foghorns groaned like sleeping giants, barely masking the quiet tap of boots on wet concrete.

Annalise crouched low behind a stack of crates, her body practically humming with energy — the tension of nearby threats setting her nerves alight.

She glanced sideways at Matt, just ahead of her, poised like a shadow — one hand at the ground, the other holding his batons.

"How did you know?" she whispered, breath clouding slightly in the night air.

Matt tilted his head. "The docks are where Fisk runs most of his offshore logistics — imports, smuggling, bribes. He likes his leverage near water."

"And his enemies?" she murmured.

He gave a ghost of a smile. "Same place."

They moved again — silent, controlled, like parts of the same machine. Annalise pressed her fingers lightly to the container wall as they passed it. She felt the ripple of electricity from a man ahead — not walking, not nervous — waiting.

"Up there," she whispered, flicking her eyes to the catwalk above.

Matt nodded, already hearing the faint shift of weight and the slow exhale of the guard's breath. Without a word, he vaulted upward, grabbing the railing with ease. His baton cracked once against metal — followed by a grunt and the soft thud of a body hitting steel.

Annalise slipped around the base of the container, pressing her back to the wall. Another guard rounded the corner — rifle raised, eyes sharp — but his pulse spiked half a second before he saw her.