Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Forehead, chest, left shoulder, right shoulder.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was, um...wow, four years ago, actually."

Her Fear of God was but a wisp at the back of her mind. No, she was more guilty of what she was about to spill out. She couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled up her throat before she quickly cleared it, brows easing back down into its original frown. Out of her peripheral vision, Nora gazed at threads of dust gently floating past the curtain she'd disturbed a minute ago. For a moment, she imagined the burnt yellow illumination to be the same as it was a decade ago in the St. Agnes Orphanage grounds. A blink brought her back to the dimmed confessional.

"I've lied recently. I've been lying, actually...for a long time."

Father Lantom hummed as his silhouette tilted its head ever so slightly. "To who?"

Nora wet her lips as her breath hitched. Her gaze flicked between the latticed window disguising her and the dark, dark red curtains. She lurched forward, as if to run, before she caught herself, fingers latching onto the edge of the wooden bench. The church doors creaked open, letting in the late summer breeze. If Nora closed her eyes and thought hard, she could pretend her words didn't sound all too familiar.

"Myself."

Unfortunately, not even the incessant hospital hum was able to drown out his voice. "So, I was thinking now that my tower—"

" —you mean the Avengers Tower," Nora grimaced.

"Yes, the Avengers Tower. Big 'A' with a circle. What, you don't like it? Some people—not many, though— might say it's an improvement from 'STARK Tower' in all caps." Tony's snark wasn't hard to detect, even through the phone. "Hey, speaking of, your favorite Capsicle also has a room there. Just saying. And of course, I'll be there too so you won't get bored with that fossil. Actual fossil, by the way. Didn't know you were into older men. If I'd known earlier...well."

Nora set her phone on speaker as she shrugged on her scrubs, glancing at her wrist. Five minutes before her shift begins. "With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I am no longer your little personal nurse."

"Well, of course not! You'd be the Avengers's cute little nurse. Hot uniform and all, you know, with the tights and garters…maybe heels, too."

Nora huffed, slipping into her worn clogs—a fashion statement far from Tony's fixated imagination. "That image is not going to convince me to live in your tower, but maybe you can suggest that to Ms. Potts for Halloween. I am perfectly happy in my apartment, and I'm sure that my room in the Avengers Tower would be a million times better, if not more, but I've got a job that I really, really love and can't leave now. Even if you and Captain America are there."

A moment of silence. "How much are they paying you? I'll give five—no, scratch that—ten times more."

"Tony!" Nora considered hanging up right then and there, but she knew that Tony would just have JARVIS call her continuously until she ended the conversation properly. She was aiming for that to be a one-time experience in her life. "Stop annoying me about this, and I might just think about it more. But no promises. I need to go to work now. And for the record, I'm getting paid more than I need to live a comfortable life."

"Comfortable," Tony grumbled. Working for him would be lavish, luxurious, sprawling, all of the above if not more. Nora's current apartment was somewhat better than he'd expect out of the majority of Hell's Kitchen, but a far cry from her previous uptown apartment. Sensing Nora's rising ire at the comment, he switched gears. "Fine. I'll still have a room set aside for you, though. You still up for breakfast on Friday? Brucey and me, endless crepes and all that Your Highness desires."

A grin worked itself onto Nora's lips. She was already imagining the whipped cream and caviar, or whatever crap Tony would throw on crepes. "Yup, I asked to keep Friday clear for me. But I really need to go, Tony, okay? Shift starts in a minute."

"Bye, sweetheart. Kisses, hugs, whatever." The line clicked, Nora heaving a sigh of relief before shoving her phone in the waistband of the pants and hurrying out the locker room. Tony's offer of a room in the Avengers Tower was tempting, for sure, but going back to working for Stark Industries was not an option.

Fresh out of NYU, Nora was hired onto Stark Industries' private medical team (her grandmother's connections, she was sure) in New York. She mostly worked with security detail, but the few occasions she did have to patch up the grand Mr. Stark resulted in a tentative friendship formed by sarcastic quips and boo-hoo sob stories. A year later, The Incident consequently pushed Nora to abandon her hiding spot in Stark Tower, rushing onto the streets into the thick smoke equipped with only a first-aid bag. As she was patching up a peculiarly fine Captain Rogers (with quite the red face at his half nude figure), Tony remarked that Nora was quite the superhero herself: dodging aliens left and right whilst supporting a injured man back into the tower—and that was only what he'd seen at a passing glance. How could Nora stay at her cushy job slapping Band-Aids on papercuts when she could be more useful in the ER? Surprisingly, Tony only put up a minor fight as she handed in her resignation to Pepper Potts and donned the scrubs of Metro-General.

Hushed whispers made their way to Nora before she actually reached the nurses' station, stretching for the first file she saw on the stack. A few nurses were huddled together to the side of her, murmuring of three criminals last night all sent into the ER by the police with brutal wounds of broken ribs and severe concussions, whose voices shook as they confessed who beat them down: a masked man in all black. These accounts weren't the first by far, and Nora herself recently encountered a young girl who sang the praises of the man in black, claiming he'd stopped her and two others from being trafficked. Nora had a grudging respect for this man—she'd much rather have a few beat up criminals taking up bed space than for whatever nightmares the men had planned for the girls to happen.

A fellow nurse joined Nora at her left, leaning against the desk. "Hey, you."

"Morning, Claire." Claire handed her a mug, filled to the brim with coffee from the lounge with a dash of milk and a shit ton of sugar. Just how she liked it. "Thanks. Did you brew this one, or was it Casey? Please tell me it was you."

Claire snorted into her own mug, hugging it close to her face. The A/C was working overtime, and it was barely 7 A.M. "Like I would trust Casey anywhere near the coffee maker. Seriously, how can someone manage to give our entire floor food poisoning from coffee? Had to be intentional."

"That was one time," Dr. Casey whined, sidling up to Nora's right. "And it was the coffee's fault, not mine! I would never poison my favorite nurses."

Claire rolled her eyes and pulled the stack of files toward her, throwing a vague gesture that Nora interpreted as "not my business" before striding off into the trauma ward. Nora pointedly ignored Casey's slight pout, watching as Claire passed out the files to the residents on call. Casey turned to her. "Morning, Nora. What are you doing tonight? Any plans? I've been wanting to try this bottle of red wine from a friend recently…"

Nora avoided Casey's hopeful gaze as he trailed off, catching onto his intentions. "That sounds like a vacation that I can't afford," which was a total lie from Nora that tugged at her good old Catholic guilt, "And I...am also busy tonight. Claire and I made plans, so…"

"Oh! Yeah! Of course, no problem. We can always-"

"-we can find another time. Maybe. Sorry, Dr. Casey."

"It's all good. Um, have fun with Claire, then. I'll just—I'll get going, now. Lots of patients to uh, help out. Bye." Casey's smile was tight and he ran away in record time, bumping into several people along the way. Nora groaned, shuffling over to Claire, who was suturing up a poor old woman passed out on a bed.

"You're stuck with me tonight, Clairey-boo," Nora flashed a bright smile, settling down next to the old lady. "Casey tried to ask me out again so I said I'm busy with you."

"Alright, fun," Claire agreed, tying off the last suture. The old lady let out a faint snore. "Pizza and wine? Or we can get Chinese from that place down my street."

"I'd much rather make you Chinese food, please. And plus, I heard from a friend that a ton of takeout places don't follow great cleaning protocols. Like, their sauce is moldy, or something like that." Granted, it had been many years since she'd received that tip, so perhaps some restaurants changed their policies. Regardless, Nora wasn't going to take a chance on it. "You get the pizza, and I'll bring the wine?"

Claire shrugged, pulling her gloves off with a slap. "Deal, my place at nine."

A crappy (Claire's description, but Nora thought it was sweet) rom-com was playing in the background as Nora slumped on Claire's sofa, a slice of pepperoni pizza in one hand and wine bottle in the other. They'd both worked the day-shift hours, ending work at a reasonable eight o'clock. Nora wasn't scheduled the next day, so drinking most of the bottle didn't bring much guilt nor dread. Claire wasn't so lucky, but hey, that meant more wine for Nora (who was beginning to slur her words). They were on the second bottle now, courtesy of a buy-one-get-one-free deal at the corner store.

"Claire, my wonderful, beautiful, Claire...Do you have banana bags on hand?" Nora giggled, waving her pizza towards Claire who similarly collapsed on her armchair.

Claire sighed. "No, but I do have a couple needles to stab you sober." Nora just laughed again. "Come on, give me the bottle. Give it-give me the bottle! I don't want to hear you puking in the middle of the night. I have the morning shift again, you won't ruin sleep for me this time."

A struggle ensued, Claire attempting to wrestle the wine bottle out of Nora's grip. Nora was pulled off the sofa with a resounding "Ow!" and a victorious "Ha!" from Claire just as three sharp knocks sounded at the door. Then silence. Just as Claire rose from the floor to peek at the door, the knocks returned, followed by a hushed, "Claire! Claire, ayudame."

"Santino," Claire breathed, fumbling to unlock the chain and open the door. Standing in place with a raised fist was a young boy, heaving and sweat beginning to form on top of his brows. He and Claire began to whisper furiously in Spanish, Santino's frantic tone filling the small apartment. Nora pushed herself up from the rug and set down her pizza on the coffee table, squinting as she tried to decipher their conversation through what little Spanish she remembered from a few introductory classes she took in college. Yeah, they didn't do much; Nora had no idea what they were talking about, getting context only from Claire's severe frown.

"Nora," Claire began, spinning to face Nora who was leaning against the couch now, "Stay here. I'm going to go down with Santino real quick. I'll be back."

"Wait, wait, what's wrong? What is it? Let me, let me come with you," Nora said, stumbling slightly as she made her way to the door.

Claire placed her hands on Nora's shoulders, steadying her with widened eyes. "No, I'll be back, seriously. Stay here, okay?"

Nora nodded jerkily, clasping a firm grip on the doorframe as she watched Claire hurry down the tenement stairs. Sometime in the last thirty seconds her heart began pounding as if she'd been running a sprint. Claire's apartment wasn't located in the worst area—there were the occasional low-tier muggers and bag-snatchers who would back off at the sight of mace, as well as Timmy from downstairs who everyone knew to avoid when he got high, lest they make acquaintances with his pathetically small pocket knife. Yet, Claire handled each one with ease—it was quite the sight to see, what with Claire clutching pepper spray in one hand and brass decorating her other. What could've knocked aside Claire's bravado? Nora got her answer as she discerned the sounds of puffing and grunting as Santino and Claire struggled up the rickety wood stairs, lugging a man in all black by his limbs.

"Is that-" Nora halted, heart speeding up her throat as she recognized the subject of all the whispers in the hospital as of late: the Masked Man. And he was slumped unconscious in Claire's arms—well, his legs in Claire's and his arms in Santino's. She could only stare in utter shock as the Masked Man was deposited somewhat harshly on the wooden floor, miniscule rivulets of blood leaking out of his cuts onto the worn finish. A multitude of rips and purpling skin marred his figure, and Nora didn't doubt that more wounds lay under his shirt, which stuck to the man's torso like a second skin and was hardened by a shell of dried blood, crusting over the entirety.

Nora was running hot from the alcohol she consumed without a second thought earlier, but as Claire ushered Santino out the apartment, Nora snapped into action and ran to where she knew Claire kept a medical bag for possible emergencies in the building, which happened more often than not. Claire was already checking the Masked Man's wounds as best as she could without physically touching him by the time Nora fell on her knees right beside his head. Nurse mode kicked in, taking over the haze in Nora's head in a flash. A year of working together proved Claire and Nora to be a good team, the two of them snapping on gloves, immediately beginning to map out the gashes on the Masked Man's body. As Claire leaned over the man's body to examine a rather large laceration on his left arm, Nora made the mistake of looking over at the Masked Man's face.

A mistake, because Nora recognized the face. Hell, she knew this face all too well. After all, he was the subject of her decade-old yearnings, her lies, her Saturday morning confessions repeated guiltily to Father Lantom. His features haunted Nora's dreams to no end, dragging her deeper and deeper into the abyss that was just him.

He was Matthew fucking Murdock, and Nora knew him. Her blood ran cold.

"Fuck."

Chapter Text

“Fuck, oh my God.” Matthew was dressed in the Masked Man’s costume. Matthew was the Masked Man. She could not believe the sight in front of her.

Nora collapsed from her kneeling position, barely catching herself with her hands that were slippery with the Masked Man’s— Matthew’s —blood. She found herself unable to catch a breath as she continued staring at her childhood best friend’s face. Claire paused in her examination of Matt’s head to glance at her friend.

“Hey, hey, Nora, calm down and breathe. You can leave now, Nora, and you won’t have any part of this. I can handle him by myself. I won’t be mad, you can go,” Claire said firmly, mistaking Nora’s shock for fear of the Masked Man instead. Was she scared? Nora couldn’t say for sure. With all the murmurs she’d heard of the Masked Man, Nora was indeed wary of the Masked Man, but she could never be scared of Matt Murdock. No, it wasn’t fear that was on Nora’s mind but rather betrayal.

Seeing Matt like this was a slap to her face, to their decade-old friendship. Sure, they’d only reconnected a year ago, but their distance wasn’t because of any harsh feelings. Nora’s number one was always him, she told only him of her secrets, of her dreams and fears and needs and wants. He protected her at the orphanage, and she did the best she could to protect him as well. He never turned her away, even when she called him past midnight because she couldn’t sleep and just wanted to hear his voice. Even recently, he phoned her to let her know that he was finally starting his own law firm with Foggy. Nelson & Murdock , he declared proudly. He asked her if he was doing the right thing, if he was too ambitious for believing that doing good for the underprivileged people in this world was all that mattered. Your opinion is the most important one to me , he’d whispered over the line as she was drifting off in the late night, listening to her slow breaths as he too shut his eyes. In this world, Nora was to Matt as Matt was to Nora. Or so she thought. This secret, Matt’s secret, was a testament that he didn’t trust Nora to the extent that she did him. Even so…

“No.” 

Claire blinked. “What?”

“No, I’ll stay and help. I was just shocked, sorry,” Nora pursed her lips and pushed back up to her knees to take over examining Matt’s head wounds. Claire nodded after a second, carefully letting go of the Masked Man’s head to allow Nora gently prod at the bloodied areas. Nora watched as Claire shone a light into Matt’s eyes, clenching her teeth together to refrain from telling Claire that she wouldn’t find anything conclusive as he was blind.

Claire turned to Nora, shutting her light off. “Did you find any head trauma? His eyes…”

“Nothing aside from this cut on his temple,” Nora responded, setting Matt’s head down on the wooden floor. “Why, what did you see?”

“Um…I’m going to call an ambulance. I don’t have enough supplies here, he needs to go to the hospital to-”

“No!” Nora’s hand reached over Matt’s unconscious body to grasp Claire’s wrist, halting her from calling 911. Her eyes were wide and frantic, blood beginning to drain out of her face. Just the thought of something worse happening to Matt made Nora panicky. He was already like this, what if the authorities chose to off him instead of helping him? “You can’t! The police—you can’t let them take Ma-!”

A hand shot up, joining Nora’s in bringing Claire’s arm down. Nora gasped, falling back again and letting go of Claire as if she’d been burned by the little contact Matt’s fingers had with hers. She grimaced at her own stupidity. What would’ve happened if she revealed even just a part of Matt’s identity to Claire? A disaster would be an understatement.

“No, no calls,” Matt stuttered out, still clutching onto Claire’s wrist.

Claire met Nora’s eyes, not missing how afraid Nora was of her calling the police earlier. “It’s okay, I’m just trying to help.”

“No,” Matt insisted, writhing in pain on the floor. Nora instinctively raised a hand to try and soothe him but hesitated, then dropped her hand back to her side. Matt cocked his head to her, a frown beginning to mar his features. His senses were a mess, but he knew that scent of faint star jasmine and amber musk that wafted from the movement of Nora’s sleeve. Nora held her breath. After a moment, he turned to face the ceiling again, choosing to address the familiar presence by his left side later, when he wasn’t bleeding out on a stranger’s floor.

Claire continued, “We have to get you to the hospital.”

“They’ll kill everyone.”

“Who?” Nora found her voice again, needing to know who was out for her closest friend.

“The men who did this. They’ll kill everyone in the hospital to get to me,” Matt groaned out, turning his body to face Nora in an attempt to get up. Nora caught Matt’s shoulders and helped him up as Claire urged him to stay down, citing his wounds were too severe to be going out again.

“I have to leave,” Matt breathed over Nora’s head, shrugging her hands off of him as he limped into the kitchen. 

“You want to leave? Door’s that way.” Claire threw her hand out to point at the apartment door, precisely where Matt was not walking to. Nora bit her lip as she watched Matt slowly turn around and begin limping towards the door, grunting with every movement. She rushed to catch him as he stumbled, but Matt backed away from her, clearly refusing her help. She lowered her hand after a moment. He managed two or three steps towards the exit before collapsing onto his front. Claire winced. That fall couldn’t have been good for his injuries.

“Great,” Nora snarked. “Let’s get him up.”

The two nurses took hold of Matt the same way Claire and Santino did earlier, being careful to not irritate the wounds any further as they set him down on the couch. 

Claire gave a rundown of Matt’s wounds. “It looks like he has the cut on his left arm, puncture wound on the right side, that cut on his head you found, and his ribs don’t feel good either—probably broken a few. And,” Claire paused, shining her light again into Matt’s eyes to double check. “His eyes aren’t responsive to light.”

Nora let out a long sigh. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us.”

Nora and Claire sat in silence in the living room, the movie long turned off before they started patching up Matt’s injuries. The man himself lay unconscious on the couch where Nora lay barely an hour before. Claire sat on the coffee table, gaze steadfast on Matt, while Nora remained curled up in the other armchair. Both of them kept their gloves on, keeping their hands clean, but the same couldn’t be said of their clothes. Matt’s blood stained Nora’s pants at the knees, as well as a rather large patch on the bottom of her shirt. To a stranger it would have looked as if Nora was assaulted alongside the masked vigilante. Claire wasn’t much better, but their clothes were the least of their worries now.

“How do you know him?”

Nora’s head shot up to look at Claire, utterly aghast. “What?”

“You know him,” Claire sighed, “don’t you?”

“I don’t… How could I know him? I don’t know he is,” Nora tittered.

“You were going to say something earlier when I was calling 911. A name, Nora. You were going to say a name.” Claire faced Nora, tearing her gaze away from the Masked Man. Nora remained frozen in her fetal position, unable to make any more excuses. “And I wasn’t going to push it, but I don’t want you to get hurt if you really are associated with him. You heard him. He said whoever did this to him would kill anyone to get to him. You can’t be one of those people.”

“...Look, I don’t know who this man is,” Nora reiterated. “All I’ve heard about him is that he was responsible for those criminals in the ICU we saw the other day. Nothing else.”

Claire gave Nora a skeptical look. It was obvious she didn’t believe her friend. “Fine, I get it. You don’t want to—or can’t—tell me. I just don’t want you to get hurt because of him.”

Nora’s eyes flicked down to her knees to avoid Claire’s scrutiny. “I won’t get hurt,” Nora murmured finally. At least not physically , she thought. She was already hurt by Matt keeping her in the dark about his secret. 

It was silent again between the two women. Claire’s apartment was a right mess. The pizza boxes were on the floor after being pushed off the coffee table to make space for Claire’s medical bag, and the wine bottles lay empty next to the TV cabinet. Crinkled gauze packages were scattered around the floor and couch and the pools of blood Matt left on the floor were beginning to cool and curdle into a thick goop, seeping slowly into the cracks between floorboards. 

Nora got up from the armchair and grabbed a plastic garbage bag from the kitchen. A year of hanging out at Claire’s apartment made her familiar with its layout. She began stuffing the trash into the bag, starting at the TV cabinet and working around the room. She paused when she got to the couch, her body shrinking within itself at the memory of Matt flinching away from her touch. Claire remained in place on the coffee table. With a gulp, Nora picked off the gauze packages laying around Matt’s body, careful to not touch him, lest she disturb his rest. Aside from the sticky blood which was splayed dark against the wood, Nora cleaned the apartment back to its original state.

“I’m going to throw this away downstairs,” Nora mumbled, gesturing the black trash bag to Claire.

Claire nodded. “Alright, be careful. And wait, change your clothes first. Top drawer in my closet is shirts and pants on the very bottom one.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Nora set down the trash bag by the door and headed into Claire’s bedroom, where she threw on one of Claire’s old college hoodies and a pair of gray sweats to finish off the look. Matt was still out when Nora made her way back into the living room, dumping her bloodied clothes to join the other trash in the black plastic bag. She unlocked the door but stopped by the doorway, turning back to look at Matt again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch over him the whole time,” Claire assured Nora, noticing her friend’s reluctance to leave the Masked Man. Nora nodded jerkily, clutching the trash bag in her hand as she shut the door. Looking left and right to make sure the hallway was clear, Nora flipped the hood up on Claire’s hoodie and tightened the strings to hide more of her face. Her steps echoed through the building, pounding down every stair as she practically ran outside. After she tossed the garbage bag into the dumpster, Nora leaned her back against the brick wall of the building and took a deep breath, looking up at the smoggy sky. The cold night air swelled into her chest, washing away the scent of iron and sweat that filled the apartment from Matt. 

Fuck, Matt . God, Nora didn’t know where to begin. She felt a sudden urge to run away, far away, as far as she could from this godforsaken neighborhood. Hell’s Kitchen brought Nora nothing but pain, whether from her grandmother, the orphanage, Matt, the list went on and on. She could run away, right? Claire said earlier she wouldn’t blame Nora for leaving, for wanting no part of this mess. Claire was very well capable of handling Matt’s wounds for the night, and losing an extra set of hands from Nora wouldn’t be a major difference. Right, she didn’t need to process anything at this moment, and if she ran, she doubted she’d ever need to. Where could she go? Tony would take her into the Avengers Tower with no question if she asked, Nora knew that. The Tower’s security was definitely good enough that she’d never have to see Matt again if she didn’t wish for it. Yet, the Tower wasn’t the place for Nora and she knew it. She couldn’t go back to that environment of luxury and superheroes without feeling guilt about how her abilities could be put to better use at Metro-General. Every escape would lead right back to Hell’s Kitchen, one way or another.

Bringing her gaze from the sky down to her feet, Nora noticed the splotches of blood on the pavement outside the building. She swore, swiping her foot at the small puddles that must’ve formed when Claire and Santino lugged Matt in, his blood splashing on asphalt as it dripped out of his wounds. Nora’s shoes made little difference in the intense contrast between the blood and pavement, in fact making the marks even more visible in the yellow street lighting. This was a stupid idea. Nora rushed back into the building, cursing at the faint shoe prints she was leaving behind on the stairs from Matt’s blood as she hurried back to Claire’s apartment to get a bucket of water to wash away the stains. 

Nora was panting by the time she made it back, throwing the door open just in time to hear Matt saying “thank you” to Claire. His head snapped to the door, eyes, flicking over to somewhere to the right of Nora’s head. Nora watched as Matt’s hand dropped from where he held a gentle grip on Claire’s hand. He didn’t look surprised. Her scent lingered in the apartment, embedded in the couch he was positioned on right now, and he heard her running up the stairs with her heart thundering against her ribcage. Nora knew Matt had better senses than most, but she wouldn’t know that they were enhanced to the point he’d recognize her a mile away.

“Who…” Matt intoned, pretending as if Nora’s familiar presence hadn’t just invaded his senses by a thousand the moment the door opened. His voice brought a rush of emotion to Nora, who’d heard it just a few nights ago over another call. It was the same baritone, husky voice she’d known since Matt hit post-puberty at the orphanage, and yet it was also the same voice of the stranger lying on her friend’s couch.

“He woke up right after you left,” Claire explained to Nora, who remained by the door after shutting it quickly. “Mike, this is my coworker who also helped patch you up.”

“Mike?” Nora echoed.

“That’s, um, what I’m calling him since he won’t say his name,” Claire said sheepishly.

“Oh.” Bucket of water forgotten, Nora made her way step by step to Matt, going bit by bit as if she was approaching a cornered animal about to bolt any second. That comparison wasn’t far off: if Matt could run in his condition, he would. He never wanted to show this side of him to Nora.

Claire didn’t comment on the awkward atmosphere that permeated the apartment without warning. Instead, she stood up with a slight stretch to her stiff hip. “Um…I’m going to go down to the corner store real quick. I need a drink or… something. Nora, you got Mike covered?”

“Yeah, I got him.” Nora nodded gratefully at her friend for allowing some privacy between her and Matt. It was obvious that Nora needn’t pretend to Claire that she wasn’t at least somewhat aware of the Masked Man’s identity, but she’d keep up pretenses for the sake of it. While Nora settled herself where her fellow nurse sat previously, Claire threw on a new change of clothes and left the apartment, grabbing her purse on the way out. 

Nobody spoke for a solid few moments, but then, “Nora,” fell out of Matt’s lips, a name as intimate as words of a prayer to him. Nora squeezed her eyes shut and released a shuddering, choked out breath. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry Nora, please don’t cry.”

“Do you know how scared I was,” Nora cried, “when I saw you?”

“I know, I know,” Matt tried his best to soothe her, his bright eyes trying their best to find Nora’s figure, hand fluttering to pull away Nora’s hands that covered her face as she wept. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen me like this. I was too careless this time.”

“This time?” Nora gasped out, clutching at Matt’s hand that was her lifeline now. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

Matt was caught. “...No. It’s not the first time.”

“You really are the Masked Man? The one who— who saved the girls by the docks? And no one knows it’s you?” Matt only nodded to answer all her questions, head still facing Nora whose cheeks were smeared with tears. His jaw clenched. “How… How could you not tell me? Foggy, fine, but me? Matthew, I’ve known you since-”

“I didn’t want you involved. The less people who know, the less who get hurt,” Matt gritted out. “I need you safe. Like you said, we’ve known each other the longest; you know everything about me. I can’t let you get hurt because of that.”

Nora sniffed, watching Matt gently lace his fingers with her’s, tightening his hold on her. “What about you? You get hurt and you can’t even tell anyone. You should’ve at least told me, I can help with stuff,” Nora said, gesturing at Matt’s entire body, “like this.”

Matt released a frustrated sigh, running a hand weakly through his mussed hair. “Tonight’s the worst it’s been. Cross my heart.”

“From now on, come to me when you’re hurt. Please promise me this.”

“It’s not safe for you-”

“If you don’t, I’ll go looking for you instead and put myself in more danger than whatever you think is going to happen to me!” Nora tore her hand out of Matt’s grip, standing up from the coffee table abruptly. Matt’s lips parted, perhaps to counter her point but Nora didn’t let him. “Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Matt sighed. Same old Nora. Her back turned to him, he could see an inkling of her younger self that he remembered from the orphanage. With that, Matt shut his eyes and fell into a turbulent sleep.