Think of the Devil

Thirty-Seven

Right before Midland Circle collapsed, before everything had fallen apart the first time, there were the few hours spent at the 29th Precinct Police Station. After Elektra had attacked the heroes, killed Stick, and kidnapped Danny Rand, the remaining few members of their misfit superpowered team had been taken to the Harlem precinct.

Matt was startled awake by the phone ringing, and as he bolted upright he fought to orient himself in the unfamiliar space. The room he was in was small, with a couple couches, a desk, and a table with some chairs in the middle. The sounds in the building were clamorous, many different people talking while printers whirred and fluorescent lights buzzed. He didn't recognize the t-shirt he was wearing, pressing a hand over his chest and feeling that the emblem read "NYPD HARLEM." His head ticked and tilted a bit as he took everything in.

That's when he heard it; there was another person in the room. On the other couch across the space, someone's heartbeat was slow and even like they were sleeping. He took a step closer, focusing his senses to determine who it was. Within seconds, he recognized the sound of her heartbeat and the smoky, herbal scent of her hair: It was Jane.

He quietly called her name, but she didn't stir. Crossing the distance, he cleared his throat and tried again. His next immediate thought was to try to gently shake her, hoping that would ease her back into consciousness. But the second he reached for her arm, his hand stopped an inch short of coming into contact.

Jane wasn't wearing her flannel anymore, nor the gloves they'd picked up from her place that afternoon. Matt could feel the heat from her exposed skin as she laid curled up on her side. He instantly thought back to the moment they'd met and how he'd hurt her just by touching her.

Stepping to the side, he carefully reached for the hem of her pant leg and tugged on it a few times. "Jane," he repeated. He risked shaking her ankle, holding the fabric of her pants firmly under his grasp. She finally started to stir then.

There was a brief moment where her sleep coddled her. She took a deep breath in, startled by the motion but comfortable on the couch. Then the cool air of the room hit her, and she felt someone's hand let go of her, and she recognized the sound of Matt's voice. Her eyes snapped open and she quickly sat up, pulling her leg away from his hand. The fast motion sent a wave of pain through her temples and she shut her eyes again, wincing at the dull throb she'd created.

"It's okay. It's just us in here," he said.

Her eyes opened briefly so she could wearily take in the room. The bright lights and noisy thoughts of everyone in the building didn't do anything to ease her headache, but as she sat for a moment it seemed to level out to something manageable. There was, however, a harsher pain that manifested across her left cheekbone and part of her eye. She reached up to press her hand to it, but as soon as she felt the heat of her skin on her face she was panicking again. She looked at herself and realized she was missing both her gloves and her flannel.

"Where are my clothes?" Her tone was alarmed. Glancing at Matt, she realized just how close she was to him and that he'd been the one to shake her awake. She quickly stood and crossed the room, scanning to see if her flannel had been thrown somewhere.

"Calm down," he tried. He made no move towards her, knowing the distance would make her slightly less anxious. "I'm not sure what happened to our clothes."

She almost laughed at the notion. Calm down. She was in a building full of people wearing only a tank top. She knew exactly how she'd look to everyone when she flinched away from them or stood alone in corners of the room. She'd gotten those looks before. "Matt, you don't understand. I can't be exposed like this. I need—"