The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

22

The decision was made. Haunted or not, the new apartment was theirs. But the paperwork couldn't go through until morning, which meant one more night in Annalise's place.

She stood by the door as Karen set down the papers they'd signed, rubbing her arms as if to chase off a chill. "It's strange," she admitted quietly. "I thought I'd be here for years. I never pictured leaving like this."

Matt, stretched out on the couch with a blanket draped over his legs, tilted his head toward her. "Places are just walls, Anne. What matters is who's inside them."

That earned him a small smile. "You always know the right thing to say, don't you?"

"Sometimes," he said dryly. "Not always."

The next morning, Annalise made a point of stopping at the front desk while the others gathered their things upstairs. The kindly older woman who ran the building, looked up from her crossword puzzle with her usual warm smile.

"Morning, sweetheart," she said. "Heading to work?"

Annalise hesitated, then leaned on the counter. "Actually... I came to say goodbye. We're moving."

Her smile faltered, lines deepening around her eyes. "Moving? Oh, that's a shame. I'll miss seeing you around here."

"I'll miss you too," Annalise admitted. "You've always looked out for me."

The older woman reached across the desk, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "That's what I do. You take care of yourself, all right?"

"I will," Annalise promised, throat tight. She managed a watery smile before turning away, telling herself firmly not to cry.

Upstairs, the apartment was already half-emptied. Foggy had piled a few boxes near the door while Karen tried to coax Matt into sitting still instead of "supervising."

"You're supposed to be resting," she chided, hands on her hips.

"I am resting," Matt said, leaning on his cane. "Resting while vertical." Annalise rolled her eyes, taking a step closer to him. Instinctively he reached out for her, closing the distance between them. 

Matt's arms wrapped around Annalise like he'd been holding his breath all day and only now allowed himself to exhale. His embrace wasn't crushing, but firm, steady—like he was anchoring her as much as himself. One hand settled between her shoulder blades, fingers splayed wide, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt. The other curved around her waist, drawing her in until she could feel the solid line of his chest, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

Annalise let her forehead rest against his collarbone, her nose brushing the soft cotton of his shirt. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, fast at first, then evening out as he relaxed into the contact. Matt's chin lowered until it rested lightly on the top of her head, the faint scrape of his stubble brushing against her hair.

He didn't say anything, and he didn't have to. The hug spoke for him—protective, grounding, and unyieldingly gentle.

When it came time to pack, the decision was unanimous: they'd leave behind nearly all of Annalise's, and Matts, furniture. The old dresser, the creaky bedframe, even the green couch—all of it stayed.

"Travel light," Foggy declared, tossing one last lamp into the corner with a flourish. "Like fugitives on the run. Very minimalist. Very chic."

Karen gave him a look. "Or like four people who don't want to hire movers."

"That too."

They boxed only the essentials: Annalise's medical supplies, Matt's suit, Karen's files, Foggy's stack of legal pads and ties. Everything else was stripped down to bare bones. The apartment looked oddly naked when they finished, like it had already stopped being home.