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A couple of days into the work week, Matt is at the office late. He should be working on the Rand case, or looking over records he requested from city hall that deal with Fisk on a tertiary level. Instead, his hand is rolling over the card he got from Natasha with the phone number. He's pretty sure she isn't home—she's probably out doing whatever it is she does. But he has to try, right? He calls.
*
The phone rings several times, likely leaving Matt to confirm his suspicions. But just before he gives up, a voice on the other end answers in its familiar tone, timbre, and cadence, "Hello?"
*
"I didn't know the proper protocol. Am I calling too soon?" Matt says into the phone. She can tell that he's smiling.
*
There's a bit of silence that follows. And he can virtually feel the smile on the other end, "Not too soon. I don't really believe that." There's good humour in Natasha's voice, followed by a sultry consideration. There's a pause. "I'm glad you called," she offers back, and her tone suggests she's telling the truth. But it's always so hard to tell. "You home?"
*
"At the office," Matt said. "Was thinking about you and thinking about our friend. Figured two birds, one stone."
*
There's a hum that follows. "I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or concerned." There's a pause. Natasha, however, focuses and offers, "I hope those thoughts were vastly different." And with that spoken she asks, "Anything new on our friend? Areas you think we should follow?"
*
"They were. But now that you've implanted that image in my mind, I'm a little concerned for my sanity." Matt exhales, thinking. "I've been thinking a lot about motivation. Why does a business man do all of these things? It doesn't make sense to me."
*
"It begs questions," Natasha agrees in her usual deadpan voice. "Many questions." There's a pause, "Any conclusions, Matthew?" It's not often she uses his fullname, but when she says it, it's undeniably musical.
*
"About our friend or about you?" Matthew says quizzically. "About our friend I think he must have more than business interests. Or his business interests extend to something where he needs the police and he needs them to be really, really strong. It's gotta be crime, right?"
*
"I'm fairly certain he's engaged in criminal dealings," Natasha replies lowly. "But… I have no evidence as of yet. I'm staying where I am quite purposively to that end." Her nostrils flares and then she asks, "And what about me?"
*
"Whatever evidence you do get on him—it's gotta be enough to stick and to bring charges," Matt says, giving her information she probably already knows and realizes. Whether that's what she's after he doesn't know and isn't allowed to ask. "As for you? I'm concluding that I'm willing to bet that just once wasn't enough."
*
"Well, charges may not be the goal, Matt," or maybe they are. That all depends on who she works for. Something Natasha has adamantly kept to herself. "For you or for me?" she asks about the last conclusion.
*
"I understand," Matt says. She can almost hear him nodding. "Oh, for you. Remember, and you can check the record if you want, I said they were conclusions about you. I can quit anytime."
*
"Can you?" Natasha asks evenly. "Then I'm clearly losing my touch." There's a pause that follows that. "Of course, we're both aware you have at least one wanton woman waiting in the wings." And she manages to sounds incredibly casual about this. "Clearly you haven't given our time together a second thought."
*
"Or maybe I'm just sounding tough because you hate beggars," Matt says alternatively. "Perhaps you didn't think of that." Beat. "Are you going out tonight. Back to our friend's place?"
*
"I was thinking about it," she answers wryly. "Enough time has passed that it shouldn't arouse suspicion. I'm not even sure what we're looking for, but something of worth must be tucked in those files…"
*
"Well if you decide to go, be sure to let me know. I wouldn't want you to find something good without me," Matt replies.
*
"We could go. I could let you tag along." There's a long pause. "I haven't told my employers about you," the plural might be of note. Or not. It's Natasha, it's hard to tell. "I suspect that's how you want things?"
*
"Like a sidekick," Matt says snidely into the phone. "I don't want to get you in trouble. I also don't want to get too much information out there on me. I trust you." Really?
*
"Matt," there's a pause, "I'm always in trouble." There's a laugh in Natasha's voice. "I can handle heat if it comes down to it. If you don't want people knowing, I'll say nothing. Lying is something of a talent." There's a pause and she chuckles again, "I'm pretty sure I used to play the sidekick."
*
"Not in my eyes," Matt shoots back. But then he laughs, "Of course, I'm blind." Pause. "Or was, clearly." He sighs, "I don't want you to get in trouble. Do what you think is best."
*
"What was I in your eyes back then?" Natasha asks a bit too earnestly. The familiarity has become too easy. "Don't worry about the trouble. As I said, I'm in plenty of it already." Her voice lowers some, "I'm always in some."
*
"A partner. Equal share," Matt says back, just as earnestly. "It wasn't all bad. And I don't feel like I lorded over you. That kind of stung, to be honest. Maybe that was the point."
*
Natasha hums softly. "Good to know. And it wasn't the point. I was trying to explain…" She toys with the cord on the phone and she asks, "Why did you think I left?" There's a vague frown that follows the last.
*
"Like I said," Matt explains. "I figured the way we both felt wasn't equal and when you realized that, you felt like it was time to split. I'm not the easiest guy to live with in someone's life."
*
"I was compromised," Natasha replies. "But I could handle that," she stares at the window she sits near. "But it had nothing to do with problems living with you. Or things not being equal. I was mad for you Murdock."
*
"You implied a few days ago that you still are," Matt counters. "You said as much. Showed as much. Why /did/ you leave?"
*
Natasha assumes silence for some time. "I didn't tell you much from my life before. Pieces. Snippets." He can virtually see her considering the thoughts. "And days before I left, I remembered something." She sucks on the inside of her cheek — a sound Matt can easily identify through the phone. "They weren't real. Half of my memories were implanted. I never danced. I don't know if the people I think of as my parents are my parents. I don't even know if what I think my name is was indeed my birth name." There's a lot of silence on the other end of the phone. "I needed to figure out who I am. And what I could remember…" she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Matt, I have red in my ledger. So much red."
*
"I don't doubt that you do," Matt says. "And I don't want to pile on, but I could have been there for you. And I still will." He leans back in his chair and plays with the phone cord as she talks. He hasn't talked with a female on the phone like this since he was in college.
*
"You deserve so much better," Natasha says lowly. "You can't imagine the red." She manages to keep her tone even. "And there was so much more." There's a pause. "You still in your office?"
*
"Uh-ah-aah," Matt chides. "I don't ask about your employer, and you don't get to decide who I should or shouldn't be with. Those were our rules." He pauses. "Yeah, I am."
*
"Wait. When I agreed to that, I didn't think I was part of the list. We were discussing Elektra, if memory serves me correctly," there's room for interpretation there. Natasha shifts in her spot, wherever she is. "Stay where you are." And with that she hangs up.
Twenty minutes pass and there's a knock outside Nelson and Murdock. Natalie Rushman stands at attention. IT's terribly convenient that she met Matt recently. When the door opens Matt is met with a faint smile that he can't see, but maybe he can sense the energy of. Maybe.
*
It's the sounds. The sound of footsteps, the radiator, the traffic outside. He can 'see' the smile, but only in moments. He takes what he can get. Matt stands in the middle of the old, worn down office, matching her smile with a chuckle. "You took a lot longer than I expected."
*
The door closes behind her and Natasha steps closer towards him just to stop shy. Her eyes stare up at his glasses and her fingers lightly brush his cheek. "Safehouse is tucked away," she notes quietly. It's not her apartment, it's a safe house. Probably more telling about what she's doing these days. And then, picking up on where she'd left off on the phone, "I left because I had to go." The words are followed by a long pause. "For you." Her eyes stare openly at him. "I don't know what's real in my head. And if I don't know who I am, you don't know who you're sleeping with." Her jaw tightens.
*
"Do you now?" Matt asks as he stands there stoically. "Don't grind your teeth," he says with a grind. "Not only is murder on my ears, you'll wish you didn't when you're an old woman." He grins, "If we make it that long."
*
"I'm closer than I was," Natasha offers in return. "I went back. I looked through every file they had on me. On the Widow. On the program." She stares blandly at him. "And I read each. Studied them. Absorbed them. I know pieces. But I still struggle with what's real in my mind. Things I think I remember. But I needed access. To get what I needed…" And therein is another layer of the truth: she went back to the Russians.
*
Matt sighs. Finally he nods, "Well, you have to do what's good for your first. I just wish you'd have talked. Kept the line of communication open. It was pretty painful, Natasha."
*
And every revelation seems to beg a whole other set of questions. "Matthew," there's a long pause that follows, "I couldn't let you come. And I couldn't ask you to wait. If we'd talked, I wouldn't have gone. I know us." Her eyes hone in on him. "And it wasn't just about me. It was about us. I couldn't ask you to be with someone I didn't even know."
*
"Why couldn't I have come?" Matt says with his eyebrows raised. "Foggy could have taken care of the practice for a few months. He'd have liked the notoriety. And all the money."
*
"Because I was going back to something that unmade me." Nat stares evenly at him. "That stripped me apart one layer at a time, and created new memories. Because I couldn't even remember if there was a me under all of these layers of identities. Of fake memories. Of lies. Because I loved you too damn much to put you through that." She inhales a quiet breath. "So yes, I left because I loved you."
*
"If you want me to say it was the right decision, you're going to wait a long time. If you've come asking for forgiveness, I forgave you a long time ago," Matt smiles faintly at her. "That's the good part about dealing with a Catholic."
*
"I'm not waiting for absolution or confirmation. I just couldn't stand you thinking it was because of some imbalance in our relationship," Natasha states quietly. "And I understand if you've moved on. I wanted you to feel like you could." Her eyebrows lift and she issues him a small smirk. "And I can't remark on your Catholicism. I bleieve we had a deal about that."
*
"Well, you've already gone back on your part of the agreement," Matt says with a wry grin. "Define moved on," he says as he heads towards the refrigerator in the small kitchenette to grab a couple of beers. "Because that means a lot of different things. Some of which are true, some of which are not. Beer?"
*
"Not exactly. I was explaining things past. Not things present," Natasha notes wryly. She nods at the notion of beer and reaches out her hand to retrieve it. The definition of moved on is side-stepped, "Then explain to me which are true and which aren't."
*
"What would be the fun in that?" Matt says as he opens the bottle and flicks the cap into the garbage can. "Define what you mean by moved on. I can't be honest with you if I don't know the context." Sometimes it seems like everything is a trial with this guy. Fuckin' lawyers.
*
Fuckin' lawyers indeed. "The other night was fun. But I understand if that's all it was. You have Karen," Natasha gives him a pointed look, "and Elektra. There's little question you have plenty to keep yourself busy, even if you'd deny it. So yeah, if that's all it was, that's fine."
*
"I told you there was nothing going on," Matt says. "You keep saying that because it makes you feel comfortable. It's fatalistic and you like it when you can't control something because that means you can push it away and you don't need to act."
*
"No. I keep saying that because I'm realistic," Natasha offers. Her eyebrows quirk and she finally opens her beer. She takes a long swing. It's possible they're not going to end up going to that building tonight. "And what am I pushing away, Matt?"
*
"Your feelings for me," Matt says as he drinks half of the beer in one go. "Or how you don't have feelings for me anymore. It makes it easier for you."
*
"Then why would I have bothered telling you at all if I just intended to push them away?" Natasha asks before taking a gulp of her own beer. She swallows. "Putting things off on something else is me recognizing the state of things. Not me trying to push some emotions away."
*
"Natasha Romanova, if I understood half the things you did I would be a much saner, much more relaxed man," Matt counters as he leans against his desk. "Is that all it was? Fun?"
*
"Doubtful," Nat croons. "you're stressed for far different reasons. Like your Catholic guilt," her head cants to the side. Yes, she went there. They've broken pretty much every piece of the deal so far. Why not go for broke? "No. It's not all it was for me." There's a pause. "But it was. Fun. Amid a lot of other things." She eyes him warily.
*
Matthew chuckles and 'looks' up towards the ceiling. "What other things?" His head falls as he turns back towards her. "Keep this up and I'll know all about your employer by dawn."
*
"Only because I want you to," Nat replies. "Murdock, you know what I want, when I want. Mind that." She finishes her beer and sets her bottle down on the desk. Something changes in her gait as she treads to the window to look down on the street.
*
"There are so many comments I could and should make in reply to defend myself," Matt says with a chuckles as he hunches his shoulders and puts both his hands upon the desk and hangs his head. "I know you well enough not to fight back when you take that tone."
*
"Oh?" Nat twists away from the window to look back at him. "And how would you defend yourself?" Even her tone changes as she takes a few slower sultry steps towards him. She closes the distance to the desk, and, with a tiny hop, sits at its edge, on the opposite side as Matt. She turns to look over her shoulder at him, leaning just so. And as she moves, the faint smell of jasmine follows her. That perfume that gave her away has been dabbed on again.
*
"Sometimes the best defense is to just stay quiet, plead the fifth, and let the powers that be do their job," Matt says to her as she sits not too terribly far from him. "I like jasmine. It's a good choice."
*
A chuckle follows Matt's suggestion. "I didn't ask for the best defense. I asked for yours Matt." She doesn't move beyond that, just maintaining her spot on the desk. The last prompts a flicker of a smile, "I know."
*
"My defense is the best defense. You know this by now," Matt says as he leans closer to her and inhales. For someone, a normal someone, the smell would be intense. To him, it's overpowering and all encompassing. All of his sense are always in hyperdrive. It has it's benefits and drawbacks.
*
She holds her position. Natasha clucks her tongue. "Sometimes," she concedes. Her fingers press solidly against the desk as she leans a bit further back. "So. Have you moved on?" Evidently the question wasn't dropped.
*
"I'm not with anyone, if that's what your asking," Matt says. "If you're asking if I have been with anyone else in the years since you have left, yes I have. If your question is something else, I don't know how to answer it unless I know what it is."
*
There's possibly something telling in the clarification, likely more than Natasha intends, but it gets asked all the same, "Was it just fun?"
*
"Not for me," Matt says. "It was always fun with you. But that wasn't what it was about. Not for me." He repeats the last line—it's one of his courtroom strategies.
*
"Then what was it?" Natasha twists around the desk, lifting her legs high enough to spin to face him. She sets them down again when they're no the same side, crossing her feet at the ankles. Instinctively, at the close distance, she reaches up a hand to his cheek. Her fingertips brush it with familiar affection.
*
"Well, it was one last chance to be close to you," Matt says. Behind his glasses he closes eyes as she touches him. He can feel every groove in her fingers as it catches against every hair on his chin.
*
The response doesn't have Natasha's hand dropping but it does seem to give her pause. She slides off the desk to press a light kiss to his neck. "Of course," she murmurs softly, her words a breathy whisper directly into his ear. She slides away.
*
Matt chuckles as she pulls away, realizing now, too late, that he said the wrong thing. Dammit. But even as she slides away, he stays there, eyes closed, focusing on the sounds that help his mind paint the picture.
*
"I should go," Natasha tugs the bottom of her blouse, smoothing out its wrinkles as she does so. She casts a glance back to Matt. "We'll head to the building in tomorrow. Late. We can meet there. I have my assets lined up for resources." Her lips twist to the side. She studies Matt longer than is likely healthy, and then states, "Ask me to stay." It's not a question.
*
"I was getting ready to," Matt says as he straightens. "Stay." He doesn't ask.
*
Natasha nods. She turns on her heel to the door, and then, unexpectedly, perhaps even to her, she locks it before turning back to face him. Her breath rakes in her throat. She steps out of her high heels as she approaches him. She reaches her hands to his face, and her lips crush against his. There's a sense of urgency to the kiss; of desperation. Of need.