Chapter Text
The city had always felt like home to Elektra Natchios, a place where shadows danced and the air buzzed with the relentless pulse of life. She had moved through the streets unnoticed, like a ghost, for years. But tonight was different. She wasn’t just wandering the city, aimlessly avoiding the past. Tonight, she was searching for something she wasn’t sure she would find.
Him.
Matt Murdock. Daredevil.
Her heart twisted in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had been alive for years now, ever since that final confrontation with the Hand that had ended her first life. But being alive again didn’t mean she had moved on. No, there was a part of her—a deep, aching part—that still belonged to him. And as much as she had tried to bury it, she couldn’t. She couldn’t forget him. She couldn’t forget the way he had looked at her, the way he had made her feel—alive, human, something other than the killer the world had made her into.
Elektra had spent months, maybe longer, watching him from the shadows. From a distance, she saw him—still fighting, still risking everything for a city that didn’t know his name. He hadn’t changed. But she had. Her soul, once cold and ruthless, now felt... broken. And the one thing that had always made her whole was him.
Tonight, she had finally decided. She couldn’t hide from her feelings anymore. She needed to see him. Needed to know if the bond they once shared still existed. She needed to know if the love they had for each other—if the love she still had for him—was something they could rebuild.
She perched herself on the ledge of a building, just a few stories above the street below, watching as Daredevil—a dark figure in red and black—dropped down into the alley below. His heightened senses were always attuned to the smallest of movements. She didn’t want to be detected, but she couldn’t help herself. The urge to be near him was too strong, too consuming.
Her breath hitched as she saw him crouch down, listening intently, his senses sweeping the air. It was only a matter of time before he sensed her presence, and she knew she couldn’t hide forever.
He turned slightly, his head tilting toward the shadows where she was concealed. His radar sense was sharp, even in the darkness. But unlike before, there was something about this moment that made him hesitate. His footsteps were deliberate as he slowly walked deeper into the alley, his hand moving along the edge of the wall for support.
For a moment, Elektra’s chest tightened, her breath shallow. Her heart thundered in her chest, every nerve on fire as she stood still, waiting for him to finally make the move.
And then, in a soft but firm voice, he spoke.
“I know you’re there, Elektra.”
Her heart stopped. For a moment, she couldn’t move. She could hear the surprise and confusion in his voice, but there was something more. Hope. She swallowed hard and stepped from the shadows, into the pale moonlight, allowing herself to be seen.
Matt froze when he saw her. His breath caught, and his expression softened with disbelief. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The world seemed to disappear around them. Time stood still as the memories rushed back. The first time they had met, the way she had fought him, the way she had fallen in love with him despite everything they had been through.
“You’re alive,” Matt whispered, the words thick with disbelief. He took a cautious step forward, as if afraid she would vanish as suddenly as she had appeared.
Elektra stood still, her heart beating so loudly she could almost hear it in her ears. She hadn’t expected him to react like this—so carefully, so gently. She had imagined this moment in her mind countless times, but now that it was here, she was almost afraid to speak, afraid that the moment would slip away if she said the wrong thing.
“I am,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet the words felt like they had weight. “I thought... I thought you might have forgotten me.”
Matt shook his head slowly, as if the very idea of forgetting her was impossible. He took another step toward her, his hand reaching out, tentative but yearning. "I never could forget you, Elektra. Even when I thought I lost you... I never could."
A silence fell over them again. The night air seemed to thicken, as if the world itself was holding its breath. Elektra could see the conflict in his eyes. The same conflict she had felt in her own heart for so long. They had been through so much—too much—and yet, here they were, standing face-to-face. She knew this was dangerous. She knew they had unfinished business. But none of that mattered in this moment. The only thing that mattered was the way her heart raced when she looked at him. The way the pull between them had never faded.
“I’ve missed you,” Matt finally confessed, the words spilling from his lips. He had meant to say something else, something guarded, something that would shield her from the vulnerability of the moment. But the truth was too powerful to contain. "I’ve missed you more than I’ve missed anything."
Elektra’s expression softened, a mixture of relief and something deeper, something unspoken. Her hand reached for his, and this time, he didn’t pull away. he let her take it, their fingers brushing lightly at first, then intertwining as if they had never been apart. His touch was warm, grounding, a stark contrast to the coldness that had filled her life after she had died.
“I never wanted to let you go,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He stepped closer, his breath catching as he looked at her. “But I didn’t know how to save you, Elektra. I didn’t know how to keep you.”
Elektra’s heart swelled with the tenderness in his words. She closed the distance between them, her eyes locking with his. “You did save me, Matt,” she said softly, her hand brushing gently against his chest. “You saved me every time you believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
For a moment, they simply stood there, the weight of their past, their love, hanging between them. It was a fragile moment, one that could be broken by a single word or movement. But neither of them moved away. Neither of them said a word, as the world around them seemed to disappear.
And then, slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, they closed the gap between them. Matt’s lips brushed against hers, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But Elektra responded immediately, her hands finding his shoulders as she pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and for the first time in years, Elektra felt the aching void inside her fill with something more powerful than anything she had ever known. It wasn’t just the heat of the kiss, the way his lips moved with a desperate intensity that mirrored her own. It was everything they had been through—the pain, the loss, the love—that had led them back to this moment.
Chapter Text
The soft morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a golden hue across the bed where Matt and Elektra lay tangled in the sheets. The world outside was already stirring, the distant hum of New York's pulse filtering through the windows, but in the quiet space they shared, it felt like time itself had slowed. There were no enemies to fight, no blood to spill—just the warmth of the bed and the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Matt’s chest as he slept beside her.
Elektra rested her head against his chest, her hand idly tracing patterns over his skin. It felt like a rare moment of peace, the kind she hadn’t experienced in years. The familiar, soothing sound of his heartbeat under her fingers grounded her, as though she were once again tethered to something real, something human. Something she had thought lost.
She let out a soft breath, savoring the stillness, feeling his body press against hers in a way that reminded her that she hadn’t been truly alone in a long time. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the world that existed outside of this room.
Matt shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. Elektra smiled, her hand moving to gently push a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. She watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with a mixture of affection and longing. It was hard to believe they were here together, after everything—after the years apart, after the violence, the loss. But somehow, in this quiet morning, it felt like they had picked up right where they had left off.
Matt’s eyes fluttered open, his senses waking up to the world around him. He blinked at her for a few moments, as if confirming that she was really there. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Good morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.
Elektra smiled back, her hand moving to lightly trace his jaw. “Morning,” she replied softly.
There was a pause, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between them. It was a peaceful silence, the kind that only existed when two people truly understood each other—when they didn’t need to fill the quiet with words.
For a long moment, they simply lay there, enjoying the intimacy, the closeness. Elektra let her head fall back to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, feeling like maybe, just maybe, they could have this. A slice of normalcy in the chaos of their lives.
But as with all things in their world, the calm didn’t last long.
Matt’s phone, sitting on the nightstand, suddenly buzzed loudly, cutting through the quiet air with an obnoxious urgency. Elektra winced slightly at the sound, but Matt reached for the phone without hesitation, his senses already alert.
He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows furrowing. “Foggy,” he murmured, his voice thick with reluctant amusement. “He always knows how to ruin a moment.”
Elektra chuckled softly, though there was a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “You’d think he’d know better by now.”
With a resigned sigh, Matt answered the call, swiping the screen. “Hey, Fog, what’s up?” he asked, sitting up slightly against the headboard. His tone was casual, but Elektra could see the flicker of tension in his posture as he adjusted to the sudden intrusion.
“Matt, I need you down at the office,” Foggy’s voice came through the phone, the tone already carrying the familiar weight of urgency. “We’ve got a situation. A big one.”
Matt let out a quiet groan, running a hand through his hair as he sat up fully, the moment between him and Elektra already slipping away. “Can’t it wait, Fog? I was... busy,” he said, glancing at Elektra with an apologetic expression.
“You were busy? Oh, so you’ve got plans now, huh? I get it, you’re a big shot with important things to do, right?” Foggy’s voice was playful, but Elektra could hear the underlying seriousness in his words. “Listen, I really need you here, Matt. It’s important.”
Matt shot a glance at Elektra, who was sitting up now as well, a silent understanding passing between them. She didn’t need to say it—she knew what this meant. The world didn’t stop. No matter how much they tried to steal a moment of peace, duty always called. And with that call came the reality that they were both still bound to the fight.
“Alright, I’m on my way,” Matt said with a resigned sigh, rubbing his forehead. He placed the phone on the nightstand and looked over at Elektra. “Sorry. I didn’t think this would happen.”
Elektra offered him a wry smile. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice steady though there was a trace of disappointment in her eyes. “I figured something like this would happen.”
Matt sighed again, leaning toward her. He gently cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I hate that this always happens. Just when it feels like we could have something normal...”
Elektra leaned into his touch, her eyes soft but resolute. “Normal is overrated,” she said with a small, playful smile. “We’ve never been normal.”
He chuckled softly, and for a moment, there was a flicker of the old Matt—the one who fought alongside her, who had loved her when it seemed impossible. It was comforting to see that familiar warmth in his eyes, even as the reality of their lives settled back in.
“I’ll make it up to you, Elektra,” he promised, his voice low and earnest. “This isn’t over.”
Elektra met his gaze, her heart a mixture of hope and wariness. “I know. But for now, go do what you have to.”
Matt hesitated, his hand lingering on her cheek before he finally pulled away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Elektra watched him with a quiet understanding as he stood up, gathering his things. She remained seated, feeling the weight of their connection, but also the looming reality that would always pull them apart. It was the nature of their world. But in these fleeting moments, when they could steal a bit of peace from it, she’d take what she could.
As Matt grabbed his coat and headed for the door, Elektra couldn’t help but smile softly to herself. It wasn’t the way she had wanted to start the day, but it wasn’t the end either.
It never was.
Chapter Text
The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were already bustling with the energy of a new day. Matt Murdock’s senses were acutely attuned to the sounds around him: the shuffle of hurried footsteps, the rhythmic hum of car engines in the distance, the low murmur of conversations from passersby. It was the usual symphony of city life. But beneath it all, his mind lingered on the quiet of the morning he had just left behind.
He had woken up beside Elektra, a rare and fleeting peace settling over him as he had held her in the quiet of the morning. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to simply be Matt, without the weight of the world on his shoulders. And for those few minutes, as she lay in his arms, it felt like he could let everything go.
But then, as it always did, reality reared its head. The phone call from Foggy had shattered the calm, pulling him back into his other life—the one that always demanded his attention, the one he could never fully escape. The lawyer. The vigilante. The constant push and pull between the two.
He had left Elektra’s apartment with a promise to return soon, but he knew better than to believe in the simplicity of those words. There was always something—always a case, always a fight—that kept him from what he truly wanted.
As Matt walked down the crowded sidewalk, his footsteps light and measured, he felt the familiar ache in his chest. Elektra had been understanding, but the look in her eyes—the one that had lingered as he’d pulled himself away from her—still haunted him. She didn’t say anything. She never did. But he could tell. She was used to it, used to him disappearing into the chaos of their lives. And he hated that. He hated that their moments together were always so brief, so fleeting.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration cutting through his thoughts. Matt reached for it, bringing it to his ear without breaking his stride.
“Hey, Fog,” Matt said, his voice calm but already strained from the weight of the conversation ahead. “What’s going on?”
“Matt! I’m glad I caught you,” Foggy’s voice came through, sounding both urgent and a little frustrated. “We’ve got a case. Big one. Client’s waiting for us in the office. I need you to come down here ASAP.”
Matt sighed, already knowing where this was heading. “What’s the case, Fog?”
“Mob-related,” Foggy replied. “This guy—Vinny DeMarco—has some serious ties to organized crime. We need to get to him before he tries to run or, worse, before someone else takes him out. You’re gonna want to hear this.”
Matt’s footsteps faltered slightly as he processed the information. The name Vinny DeMarco rang a bell. He was linked to a number of shady dealings in the area, and his involvement with the mob wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“Alright, I’m on my way,” Matt said, his tone steady but with a hint of reluctance. He knew this case would be messy, and he had hoped for a moment of reprieve. But once again, the work he couldn’t escape was pulling him back in.
Foggy’s voice shifted, now a bit more casual. “Great. I’ll fill you in when you get here. I know you’d rather be doing something else, but this is important.”
Matt smiled faintly, though it was laced with irony. “Yeah, I’d really rather be doing something else.”
“Like what? Spending more time with her?” Foggy asked with a teasing tone.
Matt’s hand tightened on the phone, a brief flicker of discomfort running through him. His pulse quickened at the mention of Elektra. He hadn’t told Foggy about her—their past, their history, their rekindled connection. It wasn’t something he wanted to explain, not when he could barely understand it himself.
“Yeah,” Matt said softly, the words more to himself than Foggy. “Like that.”
Foggy didn’t pick up on the nuance in Matt’s voice. “Well, maybe later, huh? Can’t do that until we get this case sorted. Get over here and let’s figure out how we can help our friend, Mr. DeMarco.”
Matt’s expression tightened, though he masked it quickly. “On my way,” he said, before hanging up.
He reached the law office in record time, his mind still spinning from the early morning and the tension he couldn’t shake. As he entered, he was greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and old paper, the hustle of a busy office already in full swing. Foggy was pacing near the front desk, his jacket already slung over his shoulder.
“Matt! Good, you’re here,” Foggy said, looking up and giving a half-smile. “Come on, let’s meet with Vinny.”
“Yeah, let’s,” Matt replied, his voice steady despite the discomfort pooling in his stomach. The case had already set his nerves on edge. The mob had a way of making everything complicated.
Foggy led the way into the office, where a man was sitting behind a desk, nervously flipping through a folder of papers. Matt could hear the faint heartbeat of the man, irregular and anxious. Vinny DeMarco, no doubt.
“Mr. DeMarco?” Foggy began, extending his hand. “I’m Foggy Nelson, and this is my colleague Matt Murdock. We’re here to help.”
Vinny barely looked up at them, his eyes shadowed with fear. His hands were shaking slightly as he handed them a file, but Matt could sense the undercurrent of something darker, something dangerous.
“Just... just get me out of this,” Vinny muttered, his voice low and tinged with panic. “I don’t care what it takes.”
Matt and Foggy exchanged a brief glance. This wasn’t just a simple case. The tension in the room was thick, and Matt could already feel the danger lurking just beneath the surface. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this case—this case—was going to take him deeper into the darkness than he was ready to go.
But as always, there was no turning back.
Chapter Text
The soft hum of the city outside was muffled by the walls of Elektra’s apartment. She sat on the couch, the sunlight spilling in through the windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. Her phone lay on the coffee table in front of her, its screen lit up with a message notification. She’d seen the number before—Abby.
Abby had been calling her regularly, checking in on her, making sure she was okay after everything that had happened. Elektra hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with her friend. There were things she couldn’t say, things Abby would never understand. But that didn’t stop Abby from worrying, from reaching out even when Elektra hadn’t answered in days.
With a sigh, Elektra reached for her phone, unlocking it and tapping the screen to see what Abby had messaged this time.
“Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you okay?”
The words were simple, but Elektra could hear the concern beneath them. She felt a pang of guilt. Abby had been nothing but supportive, even though Elektra had pushed her away at times. It was her instinct to keep everyone at arm’s length. To isolate herself. She was used to that life. But with Matt, it was different.
Elektra paused for a moment, biting her lip. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened, how to put the swirling mess of emotions into words. How to explain that, after everything—after her past, her training, the ghosts she’d carried for so long—she had let someone else in. Someone she could never quite seem to shake out of her thoughts.
She placed the phone to her ear, her finger hovering over the button to call Abby. The familiar weight of indecision pressed against her chest. She didn’t know if she was ready to talk about him—about Matt—but she knew Abby wouldn’t drop it until they talked.
Taking a steadying breath, she tapped the call button.
The phone rang twice before Abby’s voice came through.
“Elektra?” Abby’s voice sounded a little more hesitant than usual, like she had been waiting for the call for longer than she cared to admit. “Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you. What’s going on?”
Elektra leaned back against the couch, her eyes drifting toward the window. The city was starting to stir, people rushing by, absorbed in their daily routines. But for Elektra, everything felt suspended, like the world outside was moving faster than she could keep up with. Her fingers drummed softly on the armrest as she considered her response.
“I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out quieter than she intended. “Just... keeping to myself.”
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line before Abby spoke again, concern still lacing her words. “That’s exactly why I’m calling. You’ve been distant lately. I get that you need your space, but you haven’t been responding to my texts. You didn’t even pick up the phone yesterday. You sure you’re alright?”
Elektra let out a slow breath, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. Abby knew her well enough to know when something was off. And right now, everything felt off. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Matt’s face—the way he’d looked at her before leaving that morning, the soft touch of his hand on her cheek, the kiss they’d shared. The longing in his eyes, the unspoken words. She hated how much she missed him already.
“I’m fine, Abby,” Elektra repeated, though it felt like a lie hanging in the air between them.
Abby didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Because I know you. I know when you’re not being honest with me.”
Elektra hesitated. There was no way to explain everything—everything that had happened in the past few days. No way to put into words the swirl of emotions that had taken over her. The warmth that Matt’s presence had brought into her life, and the way that same warmth seemed to vanish the moment he was gone.
“I just... I’m figuring things out,” Elektra finally said, her voice more fragile than she intended. She ran a hand through her hair, looking around the apartment. Everything in the space felt too quiet. “You know how I am, Abby. I don’t like to talk about these things.”
Abby let out a sigh on the other end, and Elektra could almost hear the gentle concern in her tone. “I get it. But you know you don’t have to do everything alone, right? You’ve got me. You’ve always had me.”
Elektra’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it was bittersweet. She hadn’t let anyone in, not in years. But there was something about Abby’s quiet persistence that made it impossible to keep her at arm’s length forever.
“Thanks, Abby,” Elektra said softly. “I appreciate it.”
Abby’s tone softened, her voice warm. “Hey, if you need to talk, I’m here. I know you’re used to handling things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore. Just... don’t shut me out.”
Elektra’s fingers tightened around the phone. She had already shut out so many people in her life, most of them for good reason. But Abby was different. She knew Elektra’s history, knew the darkness that lingered within her. And she still chose to stand by her. Maybe that was the hardest part—to realize that she had someone who truly cared about her, someone who would stick around, no matter how messy everything got.
“I’m not shutting you out,” Elektra finally said, her voice quieter now, the weight of her own vulnerability pressing on her chest. “I just... I’m trying to figure things out.”
There was a pause before Abby spoke again. “It sounds like you’re trying to figure out him, too.”
The words hit Elektra like a punch to the gut. She could feel her heart skip a beat at the mention of Matt, and for a moment, the silence between her and Abby stretched. Elektra hadn’t told Abby about Matt. Not yet, at least. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to explain, to make sense of the emotions that had crept into her life like a slow-moving storm.
She could feel the weight of Abby’s unspoken question, even through the phone. She knew that Abby had picked up on something—something she hadn’t been willing to admit to herself until now.
“I... I don’t want to talk about him right now,” Elektra said, her voice a little too sharp. She immediately regretted the tone but couldn’t take it back. She wasn’t ready to explain the complexities of Matt, not when she was still unraveling them herself.
Abby didn’t press, though Elektra could sense the curiosity hanging in the air. Instead, Abby let out a soft laugh. “Alright, but when you are, you know where to find me.”
Elektra’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Abby.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Abby replied, her voice light again. “Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, okay?”
Elektra paused, her fingers tracing the edge of the couch as she sat in the quiet apartment. For once, the weight of everything didn’t feel quite so heavy. Not with Abby on the other end of the line.
“I will,” she said softly, though the promise felt fragile.
Chapter Text
Elektra’s boots hit the pavement with a sharp, steady rhythm, her mind far from the crowded city streets around her. She wasn’t paying attention to the world; the noise and bustle of the city felt like a distant hum against her senses. Her thoughts were still wrapped in the tension of the morning. She had left Matt behind for now, but her feelings were still tangled with his. Matt. Her mind still lingered on him, on what they shared, and the fact that she couldn’t ignore the growing feelings inside of her.
She pushed the thoughts away. She needed to focus.
She walked faster, trying to shake off the heaviness in her chest. But then, she heard it.
Click.
It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible in the chaos of the city. A camera flash. She ignored it. But then came another, louder, followed by a voice—loud, eager, demanding.
“Elektra! Elektra Natchios! Are you really alive?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and her body tensed in response. She knew what this was. Paparazzi. Always on the hunt. Always wanting a piece of her. But today—today, she wasn’t going to let them off so easily.
Her mind flickered to her old reflexes—the assassin within her rising up, the desire to strike out, to break the things that dared to get too close to her. The moment she heard the word “alive,” something inside her snapped. How dare they? she thought, her stomach curling with anger. She didn’t owe them anything.
She kept walking, but the flashes continued, like a swarm of bees closing in on her.
"Elektra! How is it that you’re still here? How are you alive?" the voice asked again, more insistent now, edging closer with each step.
Her first instinct was to turn and lash out—to send these people sprawling, to send their cameras flying in every direction. A few well-placed strikes with her sais, and they would be scattered, no one daring to follow. She could feel the heat of her anger burning in her chest as the thought raced through her mind. It would be so easy.
But Elektra swallowed the urge. She couldn’t afford to make a scene—not here, not now. Not when there were so many eyes on her, waiting for her to break. Her reputation as the feared assassin of the Natchios family was something she had worked hard to bury. She wouldn’t let these vultures drag her back into the limelight.
She quickened her pace, moving through the crowd as her annoyance grew. Every question felt like a slap across the face. They didn’t care who she was. They didn’t care about her past or the things she had done to survive. No, they only cared about one thing: how she was alive. How someone like her could escape death and walk among them as if she were any other woman.
She could feel them closing in. The reporters, their cameras snapping louder now, desperate for a reaction. “Elektra, is it true you faked your own death?” one of them shouted. “Why come back now? What do you want? What’s your plan?”
Her pulse quickened. How did they know? How did they know so much?
She didn’t even slow down. She couldn’t let them see her lose control. She had to maintain her composure, had to push through the waves of frustration, the anger that clawed at her insides.
Elektra kept walking, faster now, her mind calculating every possible route of escape. The streets were becoming more crowded, the alleyways too narrow. She needed to get somewhere—anywhere—where she could be alone.
But they followed her. Of course, they followed her.
“Elektra!” A voice yelled from behind her. “Are you planning to tell your story? Is it true you’ve been living off the radar for years?”
She felt a surge of rage—sharp and dangerous. The anger boiled beneath her skin, coiling like a snake waiting to strike. These people didn’t know what they were dealing with. They didn’t know how far she was willing to go to protect herself, to protect her secrets.
They didn’t know that she had died long ago. That the woman they thought they knew was no more.
She turned abruptly, ready to face them head-on, her body tensing in preparation. She could feel the weight of the sais, the familiar hum of deadly focus.
But then, a sudden thought stopped her. No. Not here. Not like this.
She couldn’t lose herself in this chaos. This wasn’t the time for violence. This wasn’t a fight she wanted to win. Not in front of the cameras. Not in front of these strangers.
Instead, she forced her breath to steady, her expression hardening into an impenetrable mask. Her eyes flicked over the photographers, her gaze cold and calculated, daring them to step any closer. She could see their excitement, their hunger for a story. They weren’t interested in her—at least, not really. They were interested in the spectacle. The mystery. The woman who had returned from the dead.
“Leave me alone,” Elektra said, her voice calm but laced with the quiet threat of someone who had dealt with far worse than these petty intrusions. She didn’t raise her voice, but there was something in her tone that made them hesitate. She held their gaze for a moment, her eyes sharp as a blade.
But they weren’t deterred. Not yet.
“Why now, Elektra? Why come back? What happened to you?” another reporter pressed, voice tinged with desperation. “The world thought you were dead! What’s the truth?”
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, the urge to strike stronger than ever, but she held herself still, just barely.
“I don’t owe you anything,” she said, her voice low. “I’m not here for your entertainment.”
The crowd seemed to take a step back, the first sign of their hesitance, but they didn’t disperse. They were still there, still following her, still wanting something more.
Elektra didn’t slow down. She didn’t stop. She simply turned, heading towards a nearby side street, her pace quickening as she tried to lose them. They followed, of course. They always followed.
Chapter Text
The streets of New York were alive, bathed in the amber glow of streetlights and neon signs flickering in the distance. It should have been an ordinary night, like any other. But for Elektra Natchios, it was anything but ordinary.
She’d walked these streets before, had been the hunter in this urban jungle, but tonight, she was the prey. The constant clicking of cameras behind her was like a dull roar, an ever-present reminder of her unwanted celebrity status. The flashes of light felt like a thousand tiny knives cutting through the shadows, exposing everything she was, everything she had fought so hard to bury.
"Elektra!" The voice cut through the night, sharp and invasive. It made her muscles tense, her pace quicken involuntarily.
"Elektra, how are you alive? Where have you been?" The questions came at her in a chaotic rhythm, faster than she could process. The paparazzi surrounded her, shouting, calling her name, demanding answers she wasn’t willing to give. Their cameras flashed in her face like a strobe light, blinding her with their constant, invasive presence. It wasn’t just the flashbulbs. It was their faces, their hunger to see her react, to tear her apart with nothing but curiosity.
How could they care? she thought bitterly, pushing her pace. They don’t know me. They don’t care who I am or what I’ve been through.
But the words stung—there was no escaping them. Alive. How had she come back from the dead? That was what they wanted to know. How? And why? And the question that rang in her ears with increasing intensity, Who was she with at the Black and White Ball?
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms, but she forced herself to breathe. She couldn't let them provoke her. She wouldn’t.
With a sudden burst of speed, she darted down a side street, hoping the crowded sidewalk would provide some cover, some escape. Her feet pounded against the asphalt, her senses flaring as the sound of their footsteps grew louder, but she refused to look back. Not yet.
The subway, she thought, That’s the best option. They’ll be slower down there. I can lose them. She could already feel the pulse of the city beneath her boots—the rush of the subway, the underground pulse of New York’s heart. She just needed to make it there.
Her eyes flickered toward an alley up ahead, dark and shadowed, offering the briefest glimpse of safety. Her mind was already calculating her next move as she darted into it, slipping past a group of pedestrians just as another flash went off behind her.
How do they move so quickly?
She didn’t have time to think about it. She turned the corner, sprinting toward the stairs that led down to the subway station. The air was cooler here, and the familiar scent of damp concrete filled her nose. The buzz of the city above her was muffled now, the chaos of the street fading into a low hum, but still, she felt the weight of every eye.
As her boots clattered against the steps leading down, she heard them following. The click-clack of their shoes against the concrete echoed louder and louder in her ears. The click of the cameras was the worst. It felt like it was tearing through her skin.
“Elektra! Wait!” One of the voices reached her, sharp and desperate. She knew they were closing in.
She reached the platform and glanced at the tracks, the train’s headlights slicing through the darkness. There was a rush of movement, a blur of passengers boarding the train. She could blend in here. There was enough noise, enough movement, that she could disappear for a moment, at least.
But the rush of adrenaline that had powered her here didn’t fade. It never did. Not in situations like this.
Elektra slid into the train, eyes darting to the door as it began to close behind her. She almost missed it. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to appear calm, to look like just another person on their way home. Her pulse was erratic, her mind buzzing, but she kept her movements controlled, steady.
The train lurched forward, its low rumbling vibrating through her bones, the sound of the wheels against the tracks oddly comforting. She leaned back against the door, taking in the faces around her, trying to blend in with the crowd. She didn’t dare glance behind her—she couldn’t risk giving herself away. The paparazzi could still be coming.
Her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, memories, and emotions. She could feel their presence as if they were still right behind her, pressing closer, trying to force her into a corner. How long would it take for them to find her again?
She shook her head. Focus, Elektra. Stay calm.
The train sped down the tracks, and Elektra allowed herself a moment to breathe. She closed her eyes, mentally mapping out her next steps, the possible exits, the roads to freedom. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
The train began to slow as it neared the next station, its screeching noise against the metal tracks pulling her from her thoughts. Her body tensed, muscles locked in readiness. She had to stay alert. She couldn’t let herself be caught off guard. Not now.
The doors opened with a hiss, and Elektra’s eyes flicked around the platform. There, standing at the far end of the platform, she saw them—the paparazzi. They had made it. Somehow, they had followed her, kept pace. There were at least four of them now, scattered among the crowd, but their eyes were fixed on her.
Elektra’s heart raced again, but she didn’t flinch. She didn’t look panicked. That’s what they wanted to see. They wanted to see fear, to see her flounder. She couldn’t give them that.
The crowd surged, and Elektra knew they wouldn’t be able to catch up to her right away. The people moving through the station were a small but effective barrier between her and them. But she didn’t have much time. They would follow her soon enough.
Her mind raced as she looked up to the ceiling, her eyes catching the fire escape ladder just a few feet away. The rooftops.
It was the only choice. The subway was too predictable. If she stayed on the ground, they would have her in minutes.
Without thinking, she made a move toward the fire escape, threading her way between people who glanced at her, then away. She heard footsteps behind her, heavier now, the sound of the paparazzi starting to push through the crowd.
She reached the ladder. She didn’t hesitate this time. She gripped the cold metal and started to climb, her body moving with swift, practiced efficiency. She could hear the voices below, shouting her name, calling for her attention, but she ignored them.
They can’t reach me up here, she thought.
Her fingers tightened on the ladder as she climbed, pulling herself higher and higher, her body moving without pause, each step bringing her closer to freedom. As she reached the rooftop, her eyes scanned the horizon. The city stretched out in front of her, an endless sea of buildings. The wind tugged at her clothes, the cool evening air biting at her skin, but Elektra didn’t pause. She knew what she had to do.
She launched herself across the rooftop, feeling the burn in her legs as she ran faster, faster, her boots pounding against the metal surface. She jumped from building to building, each leap feeling like the last. The rooftops were a maze, but she had been here before. She knew them well.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind her—louder, quicker now—but she kept her focus ahead, not daring to look back.
The adrenaline surged through her veins, and for a moment, she felt alive. The chase, the escape, the feeling of control—it was all she needed to ground her in the moment. Nothing else mattered.
She leapt to the next rooftop, her body flowing with the momentum of the jump. Behind her, the paparazzi were slower, clumsier. They couldn’t match her speed, couldn’t move with her fluid grace. She was already on the next building, and they were still scrambling to catch up, their shouts lost in the wind.
Freedom.
It was hers.
But she wouldn’t stop yet.
Elektra kept running, faster now, losing herself in the rhythm of the night, the pulse of the city beneath her feet.
The paparazzi? They could try to follow. But tonight, Elektra would not be caught.