A/N: so here it is, the very last chapter :D thank you guys so SO MUCH for reading and for your reviews and follows and faves, and I hope you've all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this :D and if anyone's curious, this is not necessarily the last that I'll write of this couple, so if you like them, keep an eye out and they may pop up again in the future :)

Also, one last important note: the lyrics used in this chapter are from an old song that is in the public domain, so please nobody report me! I'm not breaking the rules :D

Anyway, thank you all again! Let me know what you all think, and if you wouldn't mind seeing more of these two in the future :D

The following morning, Matt awoke not to sound of his alarm in his ear, but rather to the scent of brewing coffee and the sound of a soft, feminine voice singing in his kitchen. Normal ears wouldn't have been able to hear the quiet sounds from all the way in his room, but his perked up and woke him the minute she began to sing.

Blinking a few times and slowly waking up fully, he reached out and touched the unoccupied side of the bed, where Siobhan had slept at his side all night and had left the sheets smelling just like her. He then focused on the sound of her voice, singing to herself as she quietly moved about in his kitchen, and he smiled before sitting up in the bed and running a hand through his rather destroyed hair.

He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up smiling, but he would certainly enjoy it while it lasted. After some feeling around on the floor for his pants - she was the one who had tossed them there, and he hadn't been paying attention to where - he slipped them on and then got to his feet, heading out of his bedroom and listening still to the words that the woman in his kitchen was singing.

But the last time I saw her, she grieved my heart sore, for she sailed down Loch Foyle and away from Culmore sang Siobhan, casually like it was a a song she knew well and hummed often. He kept his footsteps quiet as he got closer to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb her or let on that he was there.

It was times like those that he really did have an unfair advantage, because she was clearly not singing to be heard and was quite preoccupied with her task of fixing them both coffee, thus completely unaware of his ever-closer presence. He stopped just outside of the kitchen, leaning against the wall and listening as she poured the coffee into two cups and finished the song.

He liked how she sang like nobody was listening, since of course, she didn't know that there was. Her voice was light and airy, obviously untrained but pleasant to listen to all the same.

If I had the power, the storms for to rise

I would make the wind blow and the salt seas to roar

To the day that my darling sailed away from Culmore

To the far parts of America, my love, I'll go and see

For its there I know no one, and no one knows me.

A new, small smile on his lips, he made sure that she wasn't holding any hot liquids or in any other kind of dangerous situation before he proceeded to startle the crap out of her. "Nice song."

Just as he expected, her heart leapt out of her chest and she half-yelped in surprise, but the sound quickly became laughter as she turned around and exclaimed, "Oh my God! How long have you been standing there listening?!"

"Not long," he replied truthfully, wearing his own silly smile. "But I could hear you from my room, so..."

"Ah, dammit," she sighed, picking up the two cups of coffee and walking them towards his small table. "You weren't supposed to hear that. I'm not a singer, at all, but..."

"You sounded fine," he assured her, meaning it. "I like your voice. It was nice to wake up to."

She set the cups down on the table and turned back around, replying as she headed back into the kitchen for sugar, "I'm sorry. I know you've got super-hearing but you seemed pretty deeply asleep when I got out of bed."

He walked to the table, finding one of the chairs with his hand first before sitting himself down in it. "Don't worry about it."

Seconds later, she was back and padding softly towards the table, and just as she passed him, his hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. Before she could say a word or even know what was happening, he pulled her down to sit across his lap, and the sudden motion made her squeak a little and grab his shoulders to steady herself.

He couldn't help the grin on his face, especially when he let go of her arm and placed his hand on her leg, finding it bare until he reached the hem of his shirt high on her thigh. "So that's where my shirt went."

"I didn't think you'd mind," she said, setting the sugar on the table and then giving him her full attention. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder and touched his hair with her other hand, remarking, "Wow. Who destroyed your hair?"

"A very... passionate, beautiful woman," he grinned as his hand slid to the back of her neck and urged her down for a kiss. She was still smiling when their lips met, and they kissed softly as his fingertips continued to roam and paint a picture of her in his mind.

Her hair was up, wrestled into a messy but efficient bun high on the back of her head, shorter loose curls falling from and framing her face. She wore nothing but his shirt, no bra underneath it, and it hung on her just right to keep her covered while making him itch to take it off of her at the same time.

Memories from the night before flooded his brain as their first kiss lingered and led to more, memories of her moans and her gasps and her scent and her taste, and how amazing she felt when she let go and came undone under his touch. The more that they kissed and with every tiny flick of her tongue against his, he could imagine himself picking her up and setting her on the table, yanking his shirt up and off of her and spreading her legs so he could bury his face between them.

But he didn't. Instead, when she broke the kiss and reluctantly pulled away, he didn't protest as she said, "As much as I'd love to sit here and kiss you all morning, coffee's getting cold."

He could have handled cold coffee, but he let her go anyway, stealing one more short kiss before he let her up and off of his lap. He leaned closer to the table, reaching for his cup as she sat across from him. He then asked a little cheekily, "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I was basically in a coma," she replied, smile evident in her tone. "But I'm so used to waking up early, I can't really sleep past 6:30. If you had stayed asleep, I could have gotten some kind of breakfast ready, but... instead all you got was coffee and a terrible kitchen concert."

He smiled. "It wasn't terrible. Really. What song was that?"

"This old Irish folk song," she replied. "It's very pretty. My grandma used to sing it all the time. She wasn't much of a singer either, but it was kind of her and my grandpa's song."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Kinda like in the song, he followed her to America from Ireland. They were together fifty-three years."

"Wow," he remarked. "Hard to find that these days."

"Yeah, it is. And by the way, since I said I'd tell you later, my grandma was the inspiration for my tattoo."

"Really?" he smiled faintly, not having to feign interest one bit in the conversation. He wanted to know more about her and her history, and he'd gladly listen to anything she saw fit to tell him.

"Yep. She was the one person who always really supported me, told me I could do anything I wanted to do and not to let my dad boss me around. She was this fiery, opinionated, liberated woman - a real revolutionary back in her day - and I wanted to grow up and be just like her."

"Sounds like you have," he replied.

"I hope so. I'm still trying. But yeah... after she died I got my tattoo. It means a lot to me. She wasn't the biggest fan of tattoos, but... I figured she'd make an exception for one that honored her."

"Most people probably would," he agreed. "Do you have any other ones I missed?"

"No," she grinned. "Not yet, anyway."

"Did it hurt?"

"A little," she admitted. "It wasn't as bad as I was afraid it might be. It actually kinda felt good sometimes."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah, like... tingly and... I don't know. I don't know how to say it without sounding like a total freak."

He chuckled. "I'll just have to keep in mind in the future that you like a little pain sometimes." He heard her choke on her coffee a little, and the rather satisfying sound made him grin to himself.

She recovered quickly however, and after a moment, she asked, "So... when you say the future, do you mean you want this to be more than a one time thing?"

He paused, regretting what he'd said almost immediately. It wasn't because he didn't want what she was talking about, but precisely because he did want it and that brought with it a whole slew of complications that would almost assuredly wreck this pleasant little morning after.

But before he could open his mouth and say a word, his phone rang. It was near the couch, having been left there last night and forgotten about after Siobhan had showed up at his door, so one quiet apology later, he got up to grab it and answer it.

If the morning had any hope of being as good and pleasant as the night before, the call snuffed out those hopes and brought him back into the harsh light of reality.

Siobhan sipped her coffee, now lukewarm but still tolerable, watching as Matt picked up his phone and answered it quietly. She knew something was wrong almost immediately, just by the way he froze and stiffened a little at whatever the person on the other line had told him.

Something about it made her own stomach twist, reminding her of the situation that she'd gotten herself into frankly much earlier than the night before. It had started from the moment she walked into his law office months ago and began getting close to him, not knowing at first that he was leading a dangerous double life. But she hadn't pulled away once she did find out, and now here she was, sitting at his table dressed only in his shirt and wondering just what was going to happen next.

She waited patiently, watching him in silence until he hung up the phone. He dropped it on to the couch and then stood there for a moment, eyes fixed in a despondent stare at nothing, until he sat on the couch and lowered his head into his hand.

That was when she knew that something really bad had happened. Rather than pester him into telling her what was wrong, she got up from the table and quietly made her way to him, sitting down silently at his side, not saying a word. She knew he'd say something when he was ready, and she didn't have to be at work for another few hours. She had time.

In the next few moments, she watched as his downcast expression gave way to anger. That was when she finally spoke. "You okay?"

Eyes cast forward and shoulders tense, he muttered, "Someone I've been working with... a journalist... was just found dead in his apartment."

She had feared that it was something like that. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head a little. "He was important. He was going to..." He trailed off, anger growing more evident, and she wasn't sure what to do besides listen. But he stopped talking.

She could only imagine what he was feeling. He was fighting a battle that anyone could see was likely a losing one, his best friend wasn't speaking to him, the city at large thought that his alter ego was a killer, and now there was this to deal with. Though it was, to some degree, her job to know what to say to people going through difficult times, she wasn't sure that his case was even remotely similar to any she'd been trained to deal with.

"Is there anything I can do?" she finally asked, quietly and a little tentatively. "To help? You can talk to me about it, or... I can leave if you'd rather be alone right now."

Rather than give her a direct answer, he turned towards her, eyes downcast as he replied, "What you asked before... about us. This is why it doesn't matter what I want."

She blinked, furrowing her brows and bracing for whatever would come next. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have to finish this first," he said. "I have to. I've put enough other people in danger. I won't do it to you too."

She took a breath, nodding though he couldn't see it, trying to ignore the fresh ache of dashed hope within. It had just been so easy to imagine the previous night and that morning being a regular thing, or at least it had been until reality had poked its nose back into their business.

"And after it's over?" she asked. "If it's ever over?" Something in his expression became pained then, and she felt like she needed to clarify the question. "Not... what you do. I know why you do it and I don't expect you to stop, and I would accept that. I do accept that. What I mean is... this... war with Fisk."

"I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I can't ask you to wait for that."

"You could," she said.

"I won't."

She paused, looking him over, wondering if he was right. She wasn't a stupid person, and if it was safer for her to keep her distance and last mint be a one time occurrence, then she wouldn't question that. She valued her safety as much as she valued not adding to the weight on his conscience, or the burden on his shoulders.

And so, she accepted his decision. "Okay," she said quietly, putting her hand on top of one of his. "But I'm not going anywhere. You're my friend and I want to help you, however I can. I don't believe that you have to be alone."

"Might be best if I was," he said. "Better, safer for everyone else."

"Depends on your definition of better," she said quietly, looking down at her hand over his, then glancing back up to his face. He was off in his own head, and she knew that he needed time to himself to deal with everything, work through it at his own pace. She couldn't fix anything for him, but she could at least let him know that he truly wasn't alone.

She gave his hand a soft squeeze, told him that she was going to go and get dressed, and then left him there on the couch as she headed back into his bedroom. It was then, as she picked up her clothes from his floor and put them back on on autopilot, that she realized just how much she wished that the morning had gone much differently.

But, that was the price she paid for getting involved with a man like him. It just figured that this was how it would go, now that she'd finally found someone who truly interested her and clicked with her on a level that so few others ever had. This time, though, it wasn't a character flaw driving her away, and she refused to believe that hope was lost for them.

She was dressed and ready to go by the time he came wandering back into his room, still half-dressed and looking as glum and conflicted as he had when she'd left him. He lingered in the doorway as she slipped on her shoes, and now that she was put back together and out of excuses to stay, she took a breath and slowly walked his way. She stopped once she was close enough to touch him, then said softly, "I've gotta get going."

He nodded. "I know."

She looked him over again, at his battle-scarred flesh and eyes that told a long and complicated story if one knew to look there for it, and reaching out and pulling him into a hug seemed like the natural thing to do. He didn't resist her, and she got the feeling that he was grateful for the embrace and the moment of comfort, however short it was.

"I'd probably lose my license for saying this," she said, her lips close to his ear as she held him close, "but I believe in what you're doing. And I'll be here whenever you need me." She pulled away, bringing one hand to the side of his face. "I mean it. If you ever need to talk, or want to hang out, teach me some more awesome moves, or..."

"Or," he repeated, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, but nothing like the ones he'd been shooting her before the phone call happened.

"Or... anything you need," she smiled. "Just say the word."

"Thank you," he told her sincerely, still lightly holding her following their hug.

Her eyes dropped down to his lips, her smile lingering on her face though it really was a bittersweet moment. She focused on the sweet part, however, moving her hand into his hair as she leaned forward and closed her eyes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Though he wasn't filled with the same fire as before, his hands slid up her back and one cupped her face as he kissed her back. The kiss was sweet and slow, a farewell as much as a promise, and it only served as further confirmation to Siobhan that he was worth waiting for. The way that she felt when he kissed her wasn't something that just anyone could cause in her, and it wasn't in her nature to give up or give in.

When they broke apart, she opened her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, taking a deep breath and telling him, "Be careful. Don't do anything stupid. And when it's over, I'll still be here."

His reply was a look that was hopeful but still guarded, like he was afraid to let himself hope, and then one more kiss. He poured himself into it that time, making her believe beyond a reasonable doubt that parting was the last thing he wanted to do. She was out of breath by the time the kiss came to an end, and she really didn't want to leave then, but she forced herself to slip out of his arms and go before she ended up talking herself into dragging him into bed one more time.

"I'll see you around," she said, finally disentangling herself from him and taking a few steps back. "And I mean it. Don't disappear. I'm still your friend first."

"Really good friend," he teased, a little bit of his charm peeking through the surface.

"Really good," she grinned, walking towards the door. "Don't forget it."

"Trust me, I won't," he replied, and she brushed her hand over his one more time before she muttered one quiet last goodbye and walked past him.

She looked back once, just before she walked out of his apartment and into the hallway. She felt fine, accepting of it all, until she was back out in the city, on the sidewalk. It was a little chilly out but not too bad, at least not yet, and a sense of dread overcame her at the thought of what the troubled, corrupt city might do to the man she'd just left alone in his apartment.

It was a good thing she had faith, otherwise the next few weeks would have been a lot more difficult.

Unlike the last time they'd parted ways following a heated encounter, Matt and Siobhan kept in touch this time. With everything that happened in the coming days, the only thing that kept her from worrying sick about him was talking to him and, a few times, seeing him in the midst of what she'd called his war seeming to hit its peak. Everything happened so fast, a lot of it even unfolding on live TV, and she would watch it between patients at the hospital while praying silently for any saint who was listening to watch over him.

On the night that it all came to a head, she was filling out patient paperwork in one of the doctor's lounges and staring with wide eyes at a television sitting on the wall when Fisk brazenly escaped his first arrest. The footage came from an overhead news helicopter, and she felt sick watching him simply get away, leaving a trail of bodies behind him. She had hoped that it was finally over when he'd been hauled in by the FBI, but it obviously wasn't.

She had then slipped away from the ears of others in the hospital, finding a private corner that she could make a call from. It took several calls before he answered, but she finally got hold of Matt and talked to him long enough to confirm what she already knew - he was going after Fisk, and his night was only beginning. She made him promise to call her once it was over, to let her know that he was safe, and then she hung up.

Her shift ended soon thereafter, and she went home and immediately set up camp in front of her TV, keeping an eye out for any breaking news that might tell her what was going on. Her phone rarely left her hand, but as much as she checked it, it didn't go off. The news wasn't much of a help either, but she stayed awake well into the early morning hours waiting for whatever kind of word she could get.

Her cat kept her company, curled up in a contented and carefree ball next to her lap on the couch. By the time 3 AM rolled around, Siobhan was exhausted and her phone hadn't rang or buzzed with a new text once. She was starting to not only fear the worst but anticipate it, and it was in the midst of chewing her nails and fretting that she heard a quiet knock on her door.

She all but leapt off of the couch, quite offending the cat in the process, her mind immediately racing and jumping to the worst possible, and irrational, conclusions. As she went to the door, her first thought was that it was some kind of would-be attacker paying her a visit, but then she realized that if it was, they probably wouldn't have been polite and knocked first. Then again, in that city, one could never be too sure when it came to odd knocks on the door at the wee hours of the morning.

Once she got to the door, she placed her hands on it and stood on the tips of her toes to peer out the half-broken peephole that her landlord had promised and failed to fix. She could only see a fraction of who was on the other side, but it was enough, and with a huge wave of relief crashing through her, she frantically threw the door open and quietly exclaimed, "Matt?!"

"You're still up," he noted, almost casually, though by the look on his definitely still-intact face, she could instantly tell that he wasn't trudging back after suffering a great defeat.

"Duh I'm still up," she said, reaching out and pulling him inside by his hand. She looked him over, dressed in a hoodie and dark pants rather than whatever he considered battle gear these days, then said, "I've been watching the news all night and sitting by my phone waiting for you to call - what happened?! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, letting her walk him to the couch and sit him down so that she could have a more thorough look at him. "It's over."

She looked up at him, restraining herself from reaching up and taking his glasses off so she could see his eyes and better gauge what he was saying. "What's over? You'd better mean that in a good way because -"

"Yeah," he smiled, nodding softly. "Good way, I promise."

"You caught him?" she asked.

"Back in custody," he confirmed. "And he's not going anywhere this time."

She blinked, hardly able to believe that it was true. Since she'd ended up back in Matt's life, Fisk had been the boogeyman lurking in the background, pulling strings, seemingly untouchable. To think that now it really was over and Matt - along with everyone who had aided him along the way - had won his war, she was almost afraid to believe it, for fear of somehow jinxing it.

But she did believe it. And as another, much deeper and lasting wave of relief settled over her, she smiled and leaned forward to pull him into a warm, lingering hug. "I can't believe it. And you're okay. Are you okay?" She suddenly pulled away and looked him over again, briefly cupping his face and examining a few minor cuts along the edge of his jaw.

"I'm fine," he smiled, reaching up and taking her hands in his to still them. "Turns out body armor exists for a reason."

She raised an eyebrow, not at all minding the way that he continued to hold her hands long after it wasn't necessary. "... What do you mean?"

He shrugged and replied vaguely, "Maybe you'll see it in the papers tomorrow morning."

She sighed a little and shook her head. "Okay, well... I'm going to go and get some stuff to clean up the wounds you do have, and then I want to know everything. The whole story from tonight, from beginning to end."

"Yes, Doctor," he grinned faintly, and she grinned back before getting up and heading to her bathroom, feeling suddenly very energized despite the late hour and like she could stay up all night and be perfectly fine.

And that was what she did, curling up next to him on the couch and taking care of his minor wounds as he told her in great detail the story of his night. Throughout it all, she continued to barely manage to believe that it was all real, and that he was perfectly fine, sitting next to her and not even half as battered as he'd been the first time he'd come to her for help.

An hour might have passed - maybe more, maybe less, she didn't know - and by the time that she had finished her work and the conversation had wound down, she found herself sighing and laying her head on the cushion behind her head as she looked at him and said, "So... Fisk is put away. You and Foggy made up. The city might have a fighting chance now to get better. You accomplished everything you set out to. Finally got what you wanted."

His glasses were off now, on her table getting sniffed at pointedly by her cat, and he replied quietly, "Not everything. I have a feeling that this was all just the start. But now I know that I can do it, and I can make a difference."

"A pretty huge difference," she smiled. "There aren't many men like you, you know. And here I was terrified all night that I helped get you killed, because I've always encouraged you, and I thought... well, I thought the worst, which I've already said about ten times, so you're probably sick of hearing it."

He was quiet for a moment, angled in her direction and contemplative as he then said, "I think I needed that encouragement. And for the record, I never get sick of hearing your voice."

She was hopeless, completely hopeless, blushing almost immediately despite trying to force the heat in her cheeks back down to wherever it had come from. "Well... maybe I should start singing again. Might change your mind."

He chuckled softly, and her stubborn blush didn't seem to be going anywhere. It lingered still as he reached out and found her hand, then said quietly, "Thank you, Siobhan, for... everything."

She smiled, warming all over due to the sheer, overwhelming sincerity of his words. "I kinda feel like I should be thanking you instead. Saving the city and all."

"It's still got a long way to go," he replied, though not in a pessimistic sort of way. Just unerringly realistic.

"Don't we all," she mused.

"Someone will try to take Fisk's place. There's a vacuum now and somebody will fill it."

"Yeah," she agreed. "But you've proven that nobody's invincible. You've given people hope, you know. Including me."

His lips quirked and he asked, "Hope for what?"

"Several things," she replied bit evasively, glancing down at their hands, which were still touching. She slipped her fingertips up towards his wrist, under his sleeve, brushing over his skin lightly. "Mostly that you haven't forgotten what you told me awhile ago."

"About what?"

She glanced up at him and replied, "You can read me pretty well. What do you think?"

She then trailed her fingers back down, and just as she began to pull her hand away from him, he gently grabbed her wrist and stopped her. Her eyes flashed up to his, then back to their hands when they ended up tangled together again. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and her heart skipped in her chest.

"It's late," he said suddenly, lowly, thumb tracing along the back of her hand. "I can leave. Let you get some sleep."

"Or you could stay," she replied almost instantly, having no shame in the matter. "Lose sleep with me."

"You haven't changed your mind, then," he said, almost as if he found that fact surprising. She thought it should really be the least surprising thing in the world.

"Have you?" she asked, shifting a little closer to him, her fingers still twined with his. A tiny shake of his head was her only answer before his free hand touched her face, then slid into her messy bun at the back of her head to pull her closer as he leaned in to kiss her.

Something about it was different from the other times he'd kissed her. It was more confident, more sure, not a trace of conflict or hesitance or even restraint on his part. It was perfect, better than she could have imagined, and much more than she had thought she would get. It had been easy to think that it would never happen, that they'd never be able to be truly together the way that they just might finally be able to be now. She was more than happy to be dead wrong in the matter.

She was breathless when they broke apart after several long moments, her heart already aflutter and surely drumming revealingly loudly in his ears. She slipped her hands up, holding his face as she bit her lip and prayed that they were truly on the same page. She wanted to ask, but she didn't want to ruin the moment.

She got her answer, however, after he kissed her again and they lost themselves to each other. He reached behind her head and took down her hair, the curls tumbling down her back and his hand instantly burying itself within their depths. And then, as their kisses grew more heated and the air around them began to change, she felt herself being slowly and gently eased down to her back underneath him.

Her cat, who had been eyeing them rather distastefully from the floor, scampered off to go and try to salvage its own night of sleep as far away as possible. Meanwhile, she pulled down the zipper of Matt's hoodie and successfully got it on the floor, raised her arms to let him take off her shirt, and then pulled him back down to kiss him hungrily, wrapping her legs around his hips and letting out a breathless noise into his mouth when he ground himself against her.

Despite the passion and the ever-growing desperation for more, in the midst of it all, there was a moment where they both slowed down, foreheads pressed together and breath coming heavily and mingling between them. His thumb gently touched her lower lip, tracing along it softly, and he said, "Sure you want to put up with me?"

She grinned and brushed her fingers through his hair, then brought them forward to trace along his cheekbone. "Just as long as you make time for me, in between being a lawyer and a superhero."

"I'm not a -"

"Yes you are," she interrupted, pulling him back down for a kiss. "Deal with it."

He smiled into the kiss, and then she tried to roll them over so that she was on top, accidentally sent them toppling off the couch to the floor in the process. She laughed after profusely apologizing if she hurt him, and after he convinced her that he was more than fine, he pulled her down and she kissed him again as hope and the distinct threat of happiness replaced the dread that had been weighing so heavily on her all day, and for longer too.

They didn't get a lot of sleep that night, but it was more than worth the consequences the next day. It was the end of one chapter and the start of another, and it might have been reckless and risky and unpredictable, but she'd never been one for taking the easy road. They seemed to have that in common.

The night passed by in a state of blessed, shockingly easy and misery-free bliss. Then, the next day, after parting ways and getting to work, downing enough caffeine to wake the dead, Siobhan was on her way to a patient's room when she overheard a handful of nurses talking about the previous night's events in the city. They happened to leave one of that day's papers laying on a counter at the nurse's station, and when they had left, Siobhan slipped by and picked it up.

She couldn't help the smile that bloomed goofily across her lips as she looked at the front page picture, then read the headline declaring what was apparently the new and much catchier name that the city had for their masked man. She made a mental note to tease the crap out of him later over it, even though she quite liked it, and he was right - she did get to see the new suit after all.

She was busy admiring the look when Louise showed up next to her, giving her a look and asking, "What's got you smiling so damn big?"

She shook herself out of it and tried her hardest not to blush, smiling at Louise and shrugging as she put the paper down. "Oh, nothing."

Louise didn't look convinced, heading to her computer and side-eyeing the paper as she went. "Daredevil. Just when I think these damn names can't get more ridiculous."

Siobhan laughed, glancing again at the picture before shrugging, "He's kinda hot, though." Louise shot her a look over her shoulder, and Siobhan shrugged again innocently. "What? He is!"

"If you like tight pants and death wishes," Louise said, turning back to her computer screen, which flickered to life when she moved her mouse, revealing a rather shameless screensaver of a smiling and radiant Thor. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

Siobhan laughed, deciding to go ahead and grab the newspaper and save it for later, just as something of a keepsake. She laughed a lot that day, feeling lighter than she had in a long time and getting more than one inquiry regarding just why she was smiling so very much all of a sudden.

Not that they'd believe her if she even told them, but... if they only knew.