Epilogue

Karen pulled the bag of popcorn free from the microwave and bounced if from hand to hand until it was cool enough to grasp. Foggy had set up a Netflix queue and was cycling to the next movie on his list of Required Cinematic Education. It seemed strange that just two weeks ago, they were reading about Bobby Henley's arrest and opening the investigation into the Messala family.

"Is he here?" she called from the kitchen.

"Not yet," Foggy answered back. "Let's start without him."

"I thought this was a joint education venture," Karen teased as she carried the popcorn into the living room.

Foggy traded a pillow for the bowl. "You heard about the dock workers getting grabbed from the pier, yeah?"

Karen nodded, curling her legs beneath her and clutching the pillow before replying, "Yeah, I read about that yester—no. Is that where he is?"

"It's my guess. He looked plenty pissed when he heard about it this morning." Foggy tossed a clump of popcorn in his mouth and said around it, "Especially when they reported that one guy was found in the warehouse all cut up."

"Okay, thanks for that," Karen frowned at him. It was going to take her a while to get that image from her head. "Did he…I don't know…say what he was going to do about it?"

Foggy raised an eyebrow at her. "He's barely accepted that we know where he goes at night. I don't quite think we've gotten to the gut-check crazy-assed Daredevil schemes part of our friendship yet."

Karen sighed, nodding. "Well, let's wait a bit. He might still show up. What's on our list tonight anyway?"

"Godfather," Foggy grinned.

"How many titles until we get out of the '70's?" Karen asked, turning on her television.

"Forty-two," Foggy grinned broader.

The news caught their attention immediately, showing in split-screen a serious-faced anchor and what looked like security footage. Karen unmuted immediately, both listening as the anchor reported that the footage had been released to them just moments ago when police reported an anonymous call alerting them to the location of two dock workers who had apparently been captured the night before and where being held in the cargo hold of a barge along the Hudson.

"Witnesses reported sightings of the Daredevil on the barge earlier tonight, followed by an explosion. We warn you, the footage you're about to witness is unedited and may be considered graphic in nature."

Karen was bent practically in half, leaning toward the screen as she and Foggy watched Matt—Daredevil—battling three men, two of whom fired repeatedly at his ever-moving frame. It seemed impossible that he'd managed to avoid the bullets, but he continued forward, slamming one of his billy clubs at one man while drawing his elbow back and crashing it into the skull of another.

They tuned out the report, focusing in on the screen. Karen gasped as one man tossed Matt back against a load of drums, a spark igniting something liquid on the deck of the barge. Matt launched up, dodging the flames, and managed to throw one man overboard before stopping in a motion his friends new as him listening. Without warning, he began to run toward the edge of the barge; when the barrels blew, shooting flames and debris ten feet in the air, Matt's body was silhouetted against the fire, just before the footage fizzled out.

"What…?" Foggy managed as the anchor reported no sign of the Daredevil among the wreckage of the barge, but that the dock workers had been found alive and were awaiting treatment at the local hospital.

Karen muted the sound. "Foggy."

"He's fine. He made it out," Foggy declared, forced certainty masking fear. "He had to make it out."

Karen drew a shaky breath. "That explosion—"

"Was really loud," Matt's voice interrupted.

Both jumped and Karen gasped at the flash of winter air that blew in from the opened window at the back of her apartment. Matt stood in the shadow of the window, his mask gripped in his hand, face dusted with soot and a few streaks of blood, catching his breath.

"Are you…," she chose her words carefully, "burned?"

"Turns out, the suit protects against burning," Matt informed them.

Foggy stood up, running his hands through his hair, struggling for what to say next. Karen knew he was concerned, but Matt was standing in front of them, solid and strong and not swaying or trembling. The blood on his face was minor in comparison to what they'd witness just two weeks ago. And most of all, he'd come to them rather than retreated to the solitude of his apartment or continued his patrol of Hell's Kitchen.

Neither of them wanted to dissuade him of this new habit.

"Well, unless you're purposefully heating the outside, close my window and grab a change of clothes," Karen said casually. "Foggy brought you some. They're in the bathroom, there. Behind you."

Matt smiled and in seconds vanished into the bathroom where his clothes were waiting.

"He seems okay," Foggy said to her. "Right? He looked okay."

"He is okay," Karen reassured him, a hand on his shoulder. "And he's here. That's the most important thing."

When Matt emerged looking moderately normal, though he'd not managed to clean the blood from his face, they assumed positions on the couch, leaving him the armchair and his own bowl of popcorn. Karen watched as he sank into the chair and reached for the food, the tilt of his head exposing his habit of checking on their wellbeing before speaking up.

"What's on tonight's list?"

"Godfather," Karen told him.

"So, should I be careful of horse heads in my bed tomorrow?" Matt teased.

"You better watch it, Murdock," Foggy fired back. "Or I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

Karen laughed as Matt toss popcorn at Foggy with surprising accuracy, then settled in as the movie started. Foggy began with his narration, pausing only when the characters spoke, translating the subtitles on the screen for Matt.

"So, Marlon Brando is sitting there in his tux looking totally badass as Vito Corleone," Foggy began. Karen glanced over at Matt, watching him listen to both Foggy and the movie, and exhaled a moment of thanks.

He fought the bad guys, answered the cries for help, and chose to come back to them. They were his family. And he was theirs.

For however long they kept the world from burning him up.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I've enjoyed rolling around in the world of Matt Murdock for a bit; I hope you were entertained.

Next up: Acta Non Verba, a Musketeers fic. Depending on, well, everything, I should have it finished by the holidays. Hope to see you then!