When they arrived at Clinton Church, Jane was expecting there to be an early morning sermon-- even if it was a Saturday. Shuffling in, she pulled her jacket tighter around her and tried to wipe the smudged mascara from under her eyes. She didn't want any regular patrons disturbed by her nighttime attire. Matt simply laughed at her, quickly guiding her by the elbow through the empty pews and towards the back.
As they came around a corner and stepped into a hallway, they passed a portrait of Jesus. She kept going, barely giving the painting a passing glance. When her arm slipped from Matt's grip, that's when she paused. He'd stopped behind her, lingering in front of the Holy Son. He whispered a short prayer and signed a cross over his chest before he continued, leading her down some stairs and into the basement.
The space was mostly empty, looking to be a storage area with a makeshift dwelling in its corner. Based on Matt's memories, she figured it was where he'd been staying. She took a brief look around, eyeing the stone casket and statues before noting his few possessions. Compared to the apartment that they'd just left, it was a stark difference in comfort.
"Sorry it isn't as impressive," he joked. "I've certainly downsized."
"No, it's great," she ribbed. "It's gray, and cold... Perfect for someone who likes to torture himself."
He laughed a bit as he shrugged off his hoodie, throwing it to a pile near his bed and leaving his upper half bare. Her eyes widened a bit as she watched him go through a bag with clothes in it. She couldn't help but stare at him, at the contusions and scars but also the muscles. She certainly hadn't had the time to appreciate those the night before, especially not in the dark.
Matt straightened up, his hands full with a few articles of clothing. His head ticked to the side as he seemed to observe her. She swallowed hard, remembering just how many things he could sense in another person's body.
"You're staring," he teased.
She opened her mouth, hoping for a witty comeback, but nothing came. He threw the clothes he'd grabbed onto the bed in the corner before grabbing the waistband of his sweats, his hands pausing just below his navel. Her eyes widened again and she spun around, facing the stairs they'd come from. "And you're getting dressed!" she blurted, beginning to blush.
He laughed again, a dark sound from deep in his chest. "In fairness, you changed in front of me last night." (Took me by surprise too.) "I didn't realize I'd scandalize you."
"I'm not scandalized," she argued. "I just... have eyes that work. You only have an idea of what I look like undressed. A rough picture. I get to have the whole picture. It's more impolite for me, I think."
"Impolite? You think?" He continued to chuckle. "How is seeing me naked more impolite than me imagining you naked?"
They both froze for a moment. Jane knew what he meant, that he had to put an image together based on his combined senses; it was more like imagining a picture than actually having one. It still stirred something within her, the same stirring she felt when she saw him without his shirt. And judging by his awkward silence, and the quickest of peeks into his thoughts, she knew he was feeling that dilemma too.
She cleared her throat, relying on her sarcasm to brush off the situation. "I'm gonna' tell Father Lantom that you aren't a good little altar boy anymore."
This earned her another full laugh, breaking the small moment of tension. "I think he knows that already. Trust me, he's heard worse." She listened to him shuffle around for another minute before he said, "Alright, I'm decent."
"Nobody has ever accused you of being that," she teased again, turning back. He stood before her in dark pants and a tight long-sleeve black shirt. She recognized the outfit as the one he'd wear when he went out at night. Her brows knit together in confusion. "It's the middle of the day. You're going to go Daredevil-ing?"
He grinned at the joke, and some part of her felt proud for getting him to smile so much. "'Daredevil-ing?' Is that what you call it?" (Does she mean to be so funny?)
"Answer the question," she sighed, crossing her arms.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he started to pull on a pair of old combat boots. "It's good to have on. Never know when I might have to go 'Daredevil-ing.'" He shot her a smirk.
She moved closer, leaning against a pillar near him. "How can you tell if your clothes match?" Immediately she cringed, not sure of how polite it was to ask a blind man how he navigated his disability. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."
He shook his head, an amused smile still on his face. "Don't be sorry." (That's one of the nicer questions I usually get.)
"I can only imagine," she muttered.
He paused very briefly as she responded to his thought, still adjusting to her ability, before he leaned down to tie his shoes. "I used to have braille labels for my clothes. Told me which suits were which colors. The rest of the clothes I bought were usually in neutrals so I didn't have to worry about matching." After a beat, he added, "Why, am I mismatched? Sister Maggie told me most of these clothes should match."
"No, not at all," Jane replied, feeling a bit abashed. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, or ask questions you've had to answer a million times already. Sometimes it's just hard to remember that you can't actually see."
Shaking his head, he rose to his feet. "I already told you, Jane, you don't have to apologize. Maybe it's because you never got a chance to know me before you knew I was Daredevil, but I've always appreciated how you treat me. Most people tend to walk on eggshells around me. You've never done that." (I've always liked that about you.)
Nodding, she said, "Well yeah, you're not made of glass. You're just blind. Although calling you blind feels like an oversimplification. I've seen the way you 'see' or whatever. It's... really cool, actually."
His head tilted in curiosity as he took a step towards her. "You can see that? How I see things?"
She suddenly felt a bit small under his intense gaze, his eyes focused somewhere around her mouth. She swallowed hard. "Yeah. It's... hard to explain, but... Yes, I've seen it."
Matt exhaled, a sad smile pulling on his lips. "The only way I can think to describe it is a world on fire."
Jane frowned, his answer troubling her. "I can see what you mean. The colors are definitely warm, like embers and flames and stuff. And the way the outlines of shapes look to you."
His head tilted again, hearing the pensive tone in her voice. "Well, how would you describe it?" (How else could you?)
Jane bit the inside of her cheek as she looked up at him. The small space between them was becoming more obvious to her. She wasn't entirely nervous, but she couldn't explain the fluttering feeling in her stomach either.
"When I saw it," she murmured, "I thought it was more like... watercolors, I guess. The way that the outlines bleed in and out, how it's splotchy sometimes. The softness of the oranges and reds."
"Watercolors?" he breathed. (She sees watercolors.)
Standing just in front of him, she could tell that he knew how her body was reacting to the closeness. Her skin was warming to the point that he could feel it. His head was still tilting as he listened to her increasing heartbeat. Inside him, there was a hesitance that permeated through her, but something else lurked beneath the surface. While she couldn't tell exactly what the feeling was, it reminded her of the feeling she'd been trying to shake since coming down here.
"Yeah," she whispered, feeling a bit dumbstruck. "Watercolors."
His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. She couldn't hear what he was thinking of saying either, as he couldn't even come up with the words. Instead he reached out, taking one of her hands in his. She'd put her gloves on before getting down from the ledge at Matt's place, so there was no jolt of their minds connecting. With such little space between them now, there didn't need to be. Her mind swam as it interpreted both hers and his feelings, her breath hitching.
"I don't know what to say," he told her, his voice low. "It's not like anyone has ever been able to see things the way I do before. But for you to see it like that..." (To see it so much brighter than I do...)
She nodded, understanding his awe. "You don't have to say anything."
So the silence hung in between them. Somewhere deep down, there was an implication in her words that both of them heard. He focused on their hands, his fingers weaving between hers. A part of him wanted to step even closer, to close the gap that remained between them. A part of him fought to stay away. Jane felt caught in the middle, her new feelings sudden and confusing.
Last night, she'd told Eddy that she didn't have the time or the energy to be involved with someone. She'd meant it; she'd genuinely had no interest in or inklings of those types of feelings. But here, standing in front of the man who'd made her feel a roller coaster of emotions in the last few months, she suddenly felt like she'd never gotten off the ride. As she watched his thumb trace up and down hers, she almost imagined what it would feel like if he raised her hand to gently brush his lips against them.
Almost imagined. As he felt her body flushing, she sensed him doing it. The sensation instantly grounded her back to reality, the one where they both knew they were approaching a boundary they couldn't walk back from.
Jane was the one to shake them from their trance. Maybe there had been a time when she would've leaned into something like this, but not now. She didn't want to cause any more complications in his life. What Matt needed right now was a friend, not a girl whose own feelings confused her. She considered it inappropriate to even consider the possibilities. So she cleared her throat and turned her face down to her shoes, squeezing his hand before letting it go.
"So, what's your plan now?" she asked, pressing back against the wall she'd been leaning on.
Matt's startled confusion was palpable between them, and his head shifted as if he had to shake it off. She couldn't help but notice the flood of relief he felt as he took a step back. She tried to block it out as her eyes returned to the ground. In doing so, she missed his smaller wave of disappointment.
"I, uh... I haven't gotten that far yet," he admitted, taking another step back. "We... I need to find Jasper Evans."
"The guy who shanked Fisk?" She was still trying to sort through everything Matt showed her yesterday, his memories still muddled with hers.
He nodded. "Vic told me that Fisk staged that shanking to get out of Ryker's, and he snuck Evans out for playing his part. So I have to find him. He's the only one who can turn on Fisk and put him back in his cage."
A feeling of relief washed through her too. He was talking about putting Fisk back in prison, not in a coffin. She released a large, alleviated sigh that was big enough for Matt to notice.
"What was that for?" he asked. (Did I say-- did I do-- something wrong?)
She shook her head at him. "No, nothing. I'm just glad you found out about Evans."
Matt's head tilted again, the telltale sign that he was observing her more thoroughly. It took him a moment to seem satisfied with her answer, as if there was something still off about it. He continued anyway. "We're not out of the woods yet. I still have to find him. For all I know, he's skipped town."
"Always such a pessimist," she chided, her tone taunting.
A smirk ghosted over his mouth. "Not everyone can be an optimist like you." (I hope that never changes.)
Jane chuckled. "I make a conscientious effort. Trust me, I wasn't gonna' make it as a cynic."
"It's honestly hard to believe you aren't," he said. "It's hard enough for me to hear the depravity of the city when it happens. I can't imagine how depressing it must be for you to hear some of these people's thoughts."
"Don't ever try to," she warned. "It's... pretty grim."
There was a beat when Matt took another step forward. He felt an urge to comfort her again. Jane was always aware of what evil lurked within people, always aware of sinners before their sin. He wondered how she found the strength to carry that burden day after day. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand again or to embrace her, so she knew she wasn't alone.
But he remembered how she pulled away before and stopped himself. There was a line in the dirt that he knew he shouldn't cross, even if he kept creeping towards it. For her sake, and his own, the line had to remain sacred.
He cleared his throat, trying to get back to the topic at hand. "I'm not sure where to start with Evans. I might need your help finding his last known address. Maybe I'll get lucky."
She nodded. "I can try to find it online. No promises, though. I don't have a lot of experience with being a sidekick."
A gentle laugh escaped him. "I certainly wouldn't call you that. But don't sell yourself short. When we were chasing down leads on the Hand, you were great at doing the espionage stuff."
"I wouldn't consider what I did espionage," she laughed. "More like standing in the right place at the right time. And, y'know, the telepathy thing makes it easier."
"Hey, it was helpful. You helped us with Sowande. And we wouldn't have found those plans in the piano if you hadn't been there to talk to his daughter," he pointed out. (You were really good with her.)
Jane shrugged it off, figuring that had been more luck than anything. She started to think about how to look into Jasper Evans when another idea struck her. One of her eyebrows raised and she tilted her head, trying to think about how to suggest it.
"What's up?" he asked, sensing her change in body language.
Glancing up at him, she nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. "I was just thinking. I'll do my best, of course, but you do know someone who's better at digging into people than I am."
Matt immediately sighed, turning his sightless gaze towards the ceiling. (Karen.) "I don't want to get her involved."
"I don't see why not," Jane argued. "She's an investigative reporter. This is literally her job. She could be really helpful." He opened his mouth to disagree, but she barreled on. "And besides, you already told Foggy you're alive. It's only a matter of time before he tells Karen-- if he hasn't already. She's your friend too. The longer you wait to see her, the harder it'll be for her to forgive you."
His jaw twitched as his eyes fell back to the wall just over her shoulder. He still didn't want to get involved with either of his friends, especially now that Fisk was regaining his power. But he couldn't argue with Jane's logic. Karen had always been good at digging into people and stories, even before she worked for The Bulletin. She'd be able to look into Jasper Evans with experienced ease. Plus (even if Matt told him not to), he knew that Foggy would eventually tell her about his being alive-- if she didn't figure it out for herself first.
As much as he wanted to keep them safe, to keep them away until Fisk was gone for good, he also knew his friends might try to get involved anyway. And as much as Matt hated to give into what he saw as temptation, he still cared about his friends and missed them dearly. He could already feel his contention waning as he thought it over.
Jane heard all of this, and she couldn't help the small grin on her lips when she realized he was coming around.
After another deep sigh, Matt shook his head. "I hate how difficult it is to argue with you."
"It's almost like I'm always right," she teased. She couldn't fight the genuine excitement she felt as he smiled at the joke. He was reaching out to his friends, even if it was in a limited capacity. It still opened the door to reconciliation down the road. And all of these plans were in an effort to put Fisk back in prison, not to carry out a self-imposed execution. Matt was now looking to achieve a goal, not an endgame. It was a big step forward, and it thrilled her.
Unable to stop herself, she pushed through the space they'd kept apart and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. After a brief moment of shock, Matt's arms wound around her waist, holding her close. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What's this for?"
"Not gonna' tell you. I don't want to jinx it," she said, falling back to her heels. One of his hands remained on her hip as she looked up at him. "I'm just... being optimistic."
He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. "I guess one of us has to be." (Thank God it's you.)
As she smiled back at him, Matt wanted to ask if she would go with him to see Karen. He didn't want to lose the assurance Jane gave him. He felt more at ease with her, especially now that they'd formed a kind of plan. There was a strength in their unity that he couldn't resist leaning on anymore, even if he felt uncomfortable doing it.
But before he could open his mouth, both of them picked up on the sound of someone moving through the hall and towards them. Their heads canted in unison to the noise, Matt recognizing the heartbeat and Jane recognizing the internal monologue.
She took a step back, her nerves returning, as she muttered, "Goddammit." Immediately she cringed, looking up at Matt as he chuckled. "Sorry," she whispered.
"It's okay. I told you, he's heard worse," he soothed. "So has this church."
As the footsteps began down the stairs, she turned to face Father Lantom. "Matthew? Are you down here?"
"Yes, father," he answered, stepping forward. Jane followed timidly behind him.
"Good. Sister Ingrid thought she saw you this morn-- Oh, hello." Father Lantom came to a stop just at the bottom of the stairs, looking towards the two of them. "I didn't realize you had company, Matthew." He looked at Jane knowingly, recognizing her from her visit weeks prior.
The pair took a few more steps towards him, Lantom meeting them in the middle of the room. Matt was more than comfortable in the presence of the priest, while Jane felt totally nervous. Sensing her anxiety, Matt reached out and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently. The gesture was noticed by the older man.
Matt cleared his throat. "I believe the two of you have already met."
"The other week if I recall," Father Lantom confirmed. "Although I never got your name, Miss...?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's Jane. Jane Cayce." She stuck out her free hand to shake his, which he gladly took.
"It's nice to officially meet you," he said, his inflection warm. She could tell he meant it even without her telepathy. "Can I assume then that Matthew is the friend you were referring to last time we spoke?"
She looked at her feet, blushing a bit. Matt squeezed her hand again. "Uh, yes. He was."
"Hm. Your questions make much more sense now." He gave her a small smile. "Glad to see that they don't require answers anymore."
She glanced over to Matt, who was standing a bit awkwardly. He knew what questions she'd asked because he'd heard them from below in this basement. He swallowed hard, guilt starting to eat at him once again.
This time she squeezed his hand before she said, "Yeah. I'm glad too." His head tilted in towards hers, her words relieving him.
Father Lantom looked between the two of them and wondered. Matt had mentioned Jane before, which surprised her when she realized it, but the priest hadn't assumed that the two were so close. It made him happy, seeing him with a friend like her. He questioned if there was something more going on between them, but he decided against asking-- much to her relief. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he said.
"No, not at all." She shook her head. "Actually, I should probably get going anyway."
Matt's confusion washed over her like a tidal wave. "You're leaving?"
She tried to keep her tone level as she answered, "Yeah, I have to look into that thing for you. That, and Alberto was wondering about me earlier, since I wasn't home when he got to the shop. I need to get back and talk to him."
He hummed a laugh. "He sounds like your overprotective dad or something."
Raising a brow, she tilted her head back and forth as she considered it. "Honestly, he kind of is." There was a small pause before she realized they were waiting for her to say goodbye. "Uh, anyway. Let me know how your talk goes. I guess you can stop by later and I'll tell you what I found."
He nodded, hesitantly releasing her hand. "Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan."
Jane gave it one more squeeze before he released it completely, looking towards Father Lantom. "It was nice to see you again, father."
"You as well," he acknowledged, giving her a small smile. "I hope to see you again soon."
She smiled back at him. "Yeah, maybe. Thank you." She glanced back at Matt. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah, later," he murmured. He swallowed hard, like he was choking back the words he really wanted. His mind was humming, trying to keep his thoughts quiet so she couldn't hear them.
Jane started to walk away, making her way to the stairs before a thought struck her. She turned around before taking the first step. "Oh, Father Lantom?"
He turned to her. Matt looked confused behind him. "Yes?"
She chewed the inside of her cheek before replying. "I just wanted to say thank you for speaking with me, you know, before. I kind of ran right out of here that day but... I really appreciated what you told me."
His smile returned. "I'm glad to hear I could offer you some comfort. I'm always available if you'd ever like to chat again."
She nodded, almost turning back but hesitating one more time. She had one more reason to be grateful to him. "I, um, I also wanted to say thank you for taking care of Matt. I know he appreciates everything you've done for him too, but it means a lot to me that he had somewhere safe to be. That you helped take care of him, and that you always have."
Lantom's small smile grew into a full grin. (How'd he find such a sweet girl to put up with him?) he quietly wondered, almost making Jane laugh. Instead, he responded, "I'm more than happy to help. Thank you for your kind words."
Behind the priest, Matt stood in awe. The noise in his head was mostly feelings, some that were fighting with others over which was most dominant. Jane decided to leave before he could fully sort them out, not sure which emotion she wanted to win that fight. She whispered another farewell with a small wave before she turned, taking the stairs up and following the hall back to the front of the church.
As her quiet footsteps padded through the nave, she heard the men speaking below her, their words echoed in their thoughts.
(Where did you find her?) Lantom asked teasingly.
Matt's response took a moment, but she heard it as she stepped foot outside and into the courtyard. (I didn't, she found me,) he answered.
Jane paused for just a second, stopping to light a cigarette before she made her walk home. In that fraction of time, just as she realized he could hear her lighting up, she heard Matt admit, (I think maybe God sent me an angel.)