Chapter Text
It didn’t matter.
That’d been his mantra ever since Matt realized who the Punisher was. More specifically, where he knew Frank Castle from .
He hadn’t realized in that first fight, too focused on getting that sniper rifle pointed away from Karen and Grotto. Too rattled by the gunshot to the head- bang - to place the voice. And the second fight, also on a roof, also over Grotto, well. Words hadn’t been exchanged then either, not until Matt was coming to wrapped in chains.
Morning, sunshine. Even with his ears still ringing, he knew in moments. That voice, scent, heartbeat- Matt was already acquainted with them. Intimately .
As intimately as one could be one very memorable night, anyway.
He could hardly wrap his mind around it- the monster who put people on meat hooks and shot at Karen was Frank from the bar. That’s the only way he should think of him now. Just some insignificant guy who happened to sit next to him at some shithole bar, weeks ago now, where Matt had been aching for a distraction more potent than cheap beer. And by God, the man had delivered.
You a movie star or something? Frank had asked, referring to his glasses, while the stench of cigarette smoke drifted around them. Such a stupid line. Shouldn’t have worked. Shouldn’t have followed him outside.
Definitely shouldn’t have taken him home.
It had been such a wonderfully uncomplicated bright spot in his life, and he had so few of those lately. Now even that was irreparably tainted.
The Devil of Hell's Kitchen snarled and thrashed at the chains, swore, needled, debated, and interrogated. But the Punisher refused to be moved. Stop now, Red, Frank had said, more tired than annoyed, stop digging. But how could he, when Matt was struggling so desperately to understand how Frank and the Punisher could be one man? Where the gentleness from that night had gone? How could he let himself be tricked into bed by- by a murderer?
It would have served Matt right if Frank recognized him back. Despite the smoking crater Matt's life would become if his identity was revealed, he still took it as an insult when he didn't. The Punisher didn’t give enough of a shit about Daredevil to even take off his mask. Yet he still tried to force him to kill - to go against everything the Devil had to be.
Again: didn’t matter. So, he had sex with someone who turned out to be far more violent than he thought possible. Wasn’t the first time. And this had been just one insignificant night. Neither of them had expected more out of it, or they would have tried to exchange numbers, right? It didn’t mean anything to Matt, and it obviously didn’t mean anything to Frank. Any sense of furious betrayal was completely irrational. This had just been sex between two fucked up people, neither of whom were aware of just how fucked up the other was.
It. Was just. Sex.
And if Matt had relished the pleasurable ache left behind, dug his face embarrassingly deep into the pillows for that leather-gunpowder-cigarette smell, found himself assaulted by stray memories for days after that night- well, that was immaterial.
You want it bad, a gravelly voice had said in his ear, tell me how bad . An actual shiver had gone down his spine just from the memory, right there at his desk in the middle of the damn day. Allegedly. That was all before he knew about the Punisher, before last night when he finally kissed Karen. So it was fine and it didn’t matter. It was just a really good lay. Not guilty, your honor.
As for the daydreams after knowing who Frank was? That was just stress and leftover hormones. Nobody’s damn business but his and God’s. Defense rests.
It didn’t matter, and Frank wasn’t going to say anything.
That second half of the mantra had been tacked on ever since Matt had made the brilliant decision to defend the Punisher.
Not that what happened between them had anything to do with representing him. Frank Castle was a human being with inalienable rights just like everyone else, and Reyes was trying to kill him. This wasn’t any different than saving him from the Irish- something he also would've done regardless. No human should have to endure the kind of torture that made even a man like Frank scream loud enough to echo off the walls. No human should be killed by a D.A. looking for political clout, either.
Daredevil had saved the Punisher's life once, and now Matt Murdock was going to do it again.
Frank was a person with goodness inside him who didn’t deserve to die. Deep down he knew that even before they spoke in the graveyard. The tenderness that had been missing from their rooftop encounters finally showed its face.
Nobody who listened to Frank describe holding his daughter’s shattered body could think he was a stone-hearted killer. This was a loving husband and father. The kind of man who said things like want a ride home and am I hurting you? Who stayed the night curled so tightly around a lonely blind man that the morning after hadn’t brought its usual devastation and regret.
Frank Castle was someone who did all that, and then murdered upwards of several dozen people.
Of course he wouldn’t have taken him home if he knew what Frank was about to do. Of course. And Matt didn’t exactly appreciate being used as stress relief before perpetrating a massacre. But Frank would’ve killed those people anyway, right? Or he would’ve just taken someone else to bed. There was nothing special about Matt. Ergo, he had no reason to feel used, or betrayed, or responsible.
Murderers had a capacity for kindness same as anyone. Matt knew this. Their night together and what Frank had done, they had no bearing on each other. He could argue that one in a court of law and win. They were done. No, even that wasn’t right, because it implied they had ever been something in the first place. Which they hadn’t.
Matt wasn't anything in particular to Frank Castle, outside of a completely unbiased attorney considering a potential client. And Frank had no reason to care about him now that their transaction had been completed. If the man wasn’t an idiot, had any sense of propriety or conflict of interest, he would keep his mouth shut about the whole thing.
It didn’t matter, and Frank won't say a goddamn thing.
That’s what Matt reminded himself one last time outside of the Punisher’s hospital room, about to offer legal services. Karen was holding his hand and went in first. She wanted to save Frank too, or maybe she just wanted the truth. He loved how much she cared about truth. He also hoped she wouldn’t pursue one specific truth, even though, again- irrelevant. Before they kissed.
Matthew Murdock was completely calm as he approached, and he didn’t startle in the slightest when Foggy called out, “Matt, the tape.” He stood before the hospital bed, breathing in the scent of blood, antibiotics, disinfectant, and gunpowder as a neutral and unbiased party.
“Frank Castle,” said an emotionally serene defense attorney, whose stomach did not swoop clear to his toes when he heard the heartbeat tick to wakefulness, “My name is Matthew Murdock. These are my associates, Foggy Nelson and Karen Page.” He tried to block out the bruised and broken state of his body as best he could. That hole in his foot alone, Christ. How had he walked on that?
Don’t say a word, Frank. It doesn’t matter. Be smart.
Frank’s heartbeat ratcheted up along with an accompanying sharp breath. The grind of his cracked rib had to be agonizing- Matt knew that from personal experience. After an extremely long handful of seconds, his vitals settled back down. Good. They were going to be rational about this.
“Huh. Small world, ain’t it?”
God fucking dammit, Frank.
Matt let his shock at Frank being such an idiot show, barely remembering that he had a role he needed to play. Couldn’t let it slip that he’d already known. In the oft-neglected corner of his mind that actually planned ahead, he was running the calculus needed to preserve his identity. Tallying up what Frank, and Karen, and Foggy knew.
Oh Christ, Foggy. There was no way he was going to buy that Matt hadn’t figured out who Frank was back on the rooftop. Not even a reasonable doubt could save him here.
But to Frank and Karen, he was just a hapless blind man who was finding out this very second that he had slept with a mass-murderer. After all, it had only been Frank’s face that was plastered all over the news. If Daredevil hadn’t met the Punisher in person, he really wouldn’t have known.
“Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?” He asked through gritted teeth in a desperate toss of a life preserver called “plausible deniability”.
Frank didn’t take it. “Yeah. From, you know. It’s me. Frank.” A drag of rough cotton went along with the admission, a shrug maybe.
“Matt? What’s he, uh, talking about?” Foggy’s heart was going a mile a minute. Shit, he probably thought Frank had just seen through the Daredevil mask.
Matt spun on heel, as if that made him even the slightest bit less hyperaware of the man in the hospital bed. “No, it’s not- I can explain. We just met at a bar, and, yeah . ” He was relatively sure Foggy would pick up the hint. That this wasn’t Daredevil thing, somehow.
If Foggy’s decreasing heartbeat was any indication, the message got through. Then the other message got through and his stress went right back up. Along with his hands, covering his face and muffling his words. “No. Oh my God. Tell me you didn’t .”
A part of him was a bit offended that Foggy jumped to that conclusion so immediately. But it’s not as if he was wrong. His best friend knew him and his proclivities a little too well.
“I…” all Matt had to offer was a kind of helpless shrug.
“God dammit, Matthew Murdock! Millions of people in this town, and you hook up with the Punisher ?” Foggy had the presence of mind to keep the volume to whisper-yelling. His complete exasperation, however, came through loud and clear.
“You what? ” Karen exclaimed. Shit, and now she thought he was a cheater. Given a few more seconds, she’d remember the timeline and realize this couldn’t have possibly happened after they got involved, but Matt couldn’t bear her betrayal for even that long.
“It was weeks ago!” He blurted. “Before, you know, everything.”
She relaxed. They were too brand new to have talked about any of this, but it was a huge relief that Karen wasn’t bothered by what he did before they came together. There was… quite a lot to be bothered by. “Uh, okay, sure” she acquiesced, “but what, how did that happen?”
“The usual way, I’d guess!” Foggy actually threw his hands in the air. “Stupid puppy-dog eyes and handsome wounded duck routine. Works on everyone, apparently! How do you keep finding every- you have one hell of a type, Matt, you know that?”
“Foggy…” Unfortunately, Matt didn’t have much of a defense on that last point. So his choice in partners hadn’t historically been great. So Elektra turned out to be even more dangerous than he thought back in college. But as for the first- “I do not have puppy-dog eyes,” he grouched.
“You definitely do. They’re devastating,” his friend deadpanned.
“I wear glasses!”
“Still.”
“Wait, does this mess up our case? Is it a conflict of interest or something?” Karen cut through their childish teasing, ever the pragmatist. All things considered she was taking it well.
“It's fine. Nobody will find out anyway,” Matt said smoothly.
“So you’re going to perjure yourself for him?”
“They’re not gonna put me on the stand, Foggy.” The only thing he would perjure himself for would be Daredevil's identity, which... is probably what Foggy is really worried about with all this. But even if Frank knew who Daredevil was, he wouldn't say anything. He's almost completely sure.
“And what if they do? Matt, you've literally fucked this case for us!”
Karen snorted a laugh and pretended she hadn’t. “Can we keep it professional, please?”
“Okay, I am not the one you need to talk to about professionalism.” Foggy shot back. "This is a real mess you dragged us into, Matt, you know that?"
“Hey.” The voice went ignored.
“Come on, this is-”
“Hey!” This time it was a commanding bark. A voice that was used to dealing out threats and being listened to. A voice that softened immediately at the collective flinch in the room. Frank shifted in his bed again, sounded like he licked his lips. “He didn’t know. He couldn’t have known, yeah? Not his fault.”
God. Frank would kick the Devil's ass no question, but he just had to be all fucking decent to Matthew Murdock, didn't he?
Later he would attribute it to the heat of the moment, frustration and exasperation and not a little embarrassment. But at the time it was all too easy to let out all the ugly accusations he’d shoved down deep.
“Oh, so it’s not my fault ? Your mugshot’s on every goddamn screen and newspaper in this city, but I couldn’t have known, right?” Matt moved forward as he spoke, uncaring of any stupid line he couldn’t even sense. He held a hand in front of him so when it brushed the foot of the hospital bed he had something to ground him. Usually it was his cane he had in a death grip while he tried to keep a lid on his temper.
It didn’t matter that Matt had already figured it out, because Frank couldn’t know that. The idea that he’d gotten picked up for convenience, to take advantage of his inability to look at a goddamn picture, when he could do a dozen other things Frank could only dream of-
“Is that what it was? Sure, pick up the blind guy. Not like he can identify you later, right?”
“No-”
“Something to take the edge off before a massacre? Must’ve been pretty convenient for you. You can kill whoever you want, he’d be none the wiser!”
“No!”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t come back for seconds with blood on your hands, make me a goddamn accessory-”
“Stop, Jesus . Is that really what you think of me? That I’d take advantage of someone like that? Bring you into my bullshit?” All the signs of emotion that Frank hadn’t been showing were now lit up in his senses. The clinking of the handcuffs and rasp of the sheets in his clenched hands, the uneasy twitch of his head. Here was a man who would happily admit to dozens of homicides, yet snarled at the implication that he had used someone for sex.
The worst part was even now, it wasn't. He thought a lot of things about Frank Castle, but not that.
What did it matter if Frank had used him, anyway? Not like Matt hadn’t used him right back to take the edge off of his loneliness. All of this was Matt’s fault. At least if Frank was being an asshole about it, he could have somewhere to direct his anger besides himself. But no. He had to be a perfect gentleman. And not just to Matt Murdock.
Despite himself, he'd noticed that even with as much as he'd terrorized Daredevil, Frank hadn't killed him or left him for the cops to find. Not even when the Devil had given him every reason to want him gone.
Matt could do nothing but let his shoulders drop, and with it, his rage.
“Then what did… you knew what you were about to do. Why would you… why ?” He sounded pathetic. Why should it even matter?
“Wasn’t anything complicated. I just…” Frank trailed off into an unintelligible mumble under his breath. Matt found himself hanging desperately on his words. He had no idea what it was he wanted to hear, but it certainly wasn’t “felt like a quick fuck”. The handcuffs clinked. Not with any intent, just uncomfortable shifting.
“I just liked you. Is all.” Unashamed yet a little meek, voice turned to the pillow. But still similar enough to the way he’d said I want to see you and asked to turn the lights on . Unselfconscious and direct without being demanding. A voice that knew exactly what it wanted and wasn’t afraid to say it. The same voice that had said not yet, I’m not done with you yet , the same hands that had- fuck. He really needed to get a fucking grip.
I liked you too , is the exact thing Matt could not under any circumstances say, for a dozen reasons. Yet the words danced at the tip of his tongue nonetheless. The silence stretched as he searched for the right words. What he ended up with was, “Oh.”
“Sorry if I caused you any trouble. I wasn’t tryin’ to- any of that.”
The exhaustion from the graveyard was still loud and clear. He was still tired, still done. Frank would defend his own honor but didn’t seem to care very much about his life. That, more than anything, hardened Matt’s resolve to save him.
“It doesn’t matter. I apologize. That was unprofessional.” Matt took a breath. Belatedly, he remembered Foggy and Karen behind him, silently witnessing this whole mess. The amount of shit they put up with for him was astounding.
Frank also took a breath, shorter and quieter than his. “’s fine.”
“I… we came here for a reason, Mr. Castle.” This meeting had gone so wildly off the rails he’d nearly forgotten why they came here in the first place. “We want to make you an offer. As Nelson and Murdock.”
Almost to himself, Frank said, “Nelson and Murdock. I know who you are. Not that you were Murdock- I didn’t even know you were a lawyer.” It sounded a lot closer to a plea to be believed than it should. “But I know you defend shitbags.”
“Yeah, well, now we want to represent you.”
“Look, if the only reason you want to defend me is because we-”
“As established ,” Matt cut in, “I couldn’t have known until now.” Which was just a rephrasing of a previous statement and not technically a lie. “This isn’t about that. We’re not interested in money or fame. We don’t have to be here, weren’t even assigned your case. But you’ve made a lot of powerful enemies besides just the gangs you killed.”
Until then, Matt had been clinging to the hospital bedframe just to keep his fists from flying. Now he eased back into his element with a preplanned speech and let the cold metal bar be a simple anchor.
“When you were admitted for the bullet in your head, a do not resuscitate order was placed on you. And a shoot to kill order, a few days ago. Both came from the District Attorney, and the fact she’s had it in for us ever since we started asking questions tells us we’re on the right track. Someone in the DA’s office wants you dead , and we want to know why.”
Frank was, he assumed, still watching him. Hadn’t moved, heartbeat steady. Between the injuries and the pain medication, it should be hard to get a read on him just from his vitals, but he was right back to being indifferent. Like he didn’t even care how many people wanted to kill him.
“We’re talking about your life , Frank.” Matt went for demanding over begging, and hoped to God he succeeded. “We can help you keep what’s left of it. Maybe even find out what really happened to you. And to your family.”
The mention of his family was the only part that got a reaction. Frank tensed up all over. “You wanna help me. What, like you did Grotto? Set him up like bait for your little trap?”
“We had nothing to do with that!” Karen snarled unexpectedly, stalking towards them. Matt threw out a hand to block her. She was pissed and didn’t have the excuse of not being able to see the line- Brett might just make good on his threat to arrest her. He got a hand on her arm, but she charged right to the bedside, pulling Matt along with her. “That was all Reyes. She used us to get to you. I’m not about to sit here and let her get away with it.”
“Don’t need any of your help,” Frank dismissed, but he hadn’t relaxed either.
Outside, Matt suddenly heard Reyes herself. Shit. He should’ve been keeping an ear out. “Karen,” he warned, trying to tug her back, but she just fished something from her purse and held it up to Frank. Paper, small and smooth- a photo?
“You want answers? So do we. But we can’t get them if you’re dead .”
Matt thought he knew what Frank was like angry. This, though, this was an ice cold rage . Breathing and heart rate ratcheted up high, his whole body gone still and tense, right index finger twitching against the sheets.
“Where’d you get that?”
Matt found himself pulling Karen back by instinct. Despite his own personal baggage about the man, Matt wasn’t under any illusions about how dangerous Frank could be. He didn’t want to think he would hurt Karen, but even the Irish’s torture hadn’t pushed him as far as whatever she showed him.
Karen was too brave for her own good. “Your home.”
“You were in my home?” Almost whispered, almost indistinct, and more chilling for it. Frank breathed like he was ready to tear the cuffs off the bed. Karen was poking the tiger, and Matt suddenly wasn’t sure the cage would hold. “Why were you in my house?”
They were saved, ironically, by Reyes. “ Who is in there?” Even the normal people in the room must hear her voice in the hall. This time Karen didn’t resist to being walked back behind the line.
“What were you doing in my house ?” Frank demanded again.
“Someone’s lying about what happened to your family, Mr. Castle.”
And then Reyes throws them out.