what they wouldn't do | DAREDEVIL

chapter nine: mending

               IT WASN'T UNTIL FOGGY WAS GONE and the apartment was silent that the excessive strangeness of the night really set it. Sarah glanced around, taking a moment to fully comprehend that she was in Matt Murdock's apartment—in Daredevil's apartment—a place she never thought she'd see. In fact, she had never really thought about where he lived at all. After a while of sitting in the chair, her adrenaline faded and the exhaustion caught up to her. She realized she needed to move around or she would fall asleep, so she slowly stood and paced around the living room area, inspecting various areas of the room and occasionally throwing a nervous glance back at the unconscious man to make sure he wasn't awake. He probably wouldn't appreciate her nosing around his place, but it's not like there was much else for her to do.

         Matt had no real decorations, which she guessed made sense; she wasn't sure how advanced his weird abilities were, but even he probably couldn't see paintings. Sarah spent so much time interacting with him as his Daredevil persona that she sometimes forgot the man behind the mask really was blind. But sure enough, his apartment was spotted with reminders: his white cane leaning against the wall next to the door, the lack of a television or any wall hangings, a bookshelf full of Braille translations and audiobooks. The most glaring sign that the apartment's resident had no sight was, quite literally, a glaring sign: a giant flashing billboard outside his window, which made the living room brighten and darken like a nightclub. No sane person with working eyes would be able to live here; at least not without some heavy duty curtains.

          Sarah was careful not to touch anything, save for one of the Braille books on the bookshelf. She flipped through it curiously, having never really seen a Braille book up close before. As she was putting the book back on the shelf, Matt's burner phone rang. Hurrying back over to where it rested on the coffee table, she picked it up and answered hesitantly.

         "Hey," Foggy's voice came through the line, more familiar this time than the last. "How is he?"

         "About the same," she said, settling back into the armchair. "He's still out, but his breathing and pulse are fine, and the bleeding hasn't started again."

         "Good, good."

         She glanced around the room for a clock, but didn't see one. Obviously, she reminded herself. She pulled the phone away from her ear for a second to check the time: 6:15 am.

         "You getting ready for court?"

         "Yeah, I'm at the courthouse now. I've never done a case without Matt, though. Kinda nervous, to be honest."

         "I'm sure you'll do fine," Sarah reassured him automatically. In reality, she had no idea if Foggy was a good lawyer or not, but it seemed like the polite thing to say. "Are they going to ask why he isn't there?"

         "Probably. But, you know, blind guy. I can just say he walked in front of a bike messenger, or something, and they'll feel bad and not bring it up again."

         Sarah gave a brief, tired smile at that. "Good plan. I'll let you know if anything changes here."

         "Oh, wait!" Foggy said. "I was calling because you should put a blanket on him."

         "What?"

         "The last time he was super out of it, he got really cold from the blood loss. Just go in his room and grab a blanket and throw it over him, okay?"

         She glanced at the doorway to Matt's bedroom warily. Being in his apartment without his knowledge was one thing, but something about going into his bedroom seemed just a bit too far. But Foggy clearly sounded concerned about the issue, and it made sense.