and unpleasantly as the last. About an hour before the end of Sarah's shift, Ronan's shadow fell over her desk and she looked up in time to see him drop a large cardboard box of assorted objects onto her desk. She looked at him blankly, waiting for an explanation.

"Yates' belongings," he said in a bored tone. "No need for them anymore. I'd say just get rid of them, but apparently we have to keep it for forty-eight hours to give his family a chance to pick it up."

Sarah glanced down at the box. There wasn't much in it. A couple of folders, a few knick knacks, a water bottle, some loose papers.

"Will they be coming by soon?" she asked him.

Ronan shrugged. "No clue. Who knows if he even has a family? Who cares? Just keep it behind your desk for the next two days and then toss it."

She nodded, but he didn't leave her desk. Instead he lingered, staring from his watch to her with a smirk on his face, until she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Just wondering if they teach you to tell time in secretary school," he said.

"I...don't know if secretary school is a thing anymore," she responded.

"Well, wherever you learned your definition of 'lunch break' then."

Her face flushed. "Oh. I—I didn't feel well yesterday."

"Upset about your dead boyfriend?" he asked mockingly.

"My...what?"

"Well I can't think of any other reason you'd get that upset and rush out of here after the news spread. Unless you two were, uh, engaging in some off-the-clock teamwork," he said, baring his yellow teeth in a leer. She narrowed her eyes when she caught what he was suggesting.

He leaned a little closer and said lowly, "You know, if you were going to give it up to someone in the office, you probably should have shot a bit higher than Yates. You didn't even get a promotion out of him before he kicked the bucket."

Sarah stared at him, gritting her teeth in an effort not to respond. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, but something in his expression disturbed her deeply, more so than usual, and she had no desire to push farther. Ronan kept his beady eyes glued on her for a long, unsettling moment before returning to his office.

After he was gone, Sarah took a few deep breaths and stared down at the box. If someone at the company did kill Yates, maybe there would be some clue in there. She doubted that they would have left anything incriminating in there, but there might be something they missed. But the lobby during the middle of the business day wasn't the best place to be rummaging around in a dead man's things. She supposed she could figure out a plan with her frequent nightly visitor—who she was positive would be dropping by tonight, seeing as she hadn't been there the night before. And she was sure he would not be in a good mood.

➳

As she had expected, a knock came at her window around 11:30 that night. Her stomach flipped in anxiety; just how pissed would he be that she had disappeared for a night after basically accusing him of murder? On top of that, how much angrier would he get when she wouldn't tell him where she had been?

She heaved the window up and squinted out into the darkness. Even by his outline she could tell he was tense. Matt slipped in silently while she returned to where she had been sitting at her small kitchen table. He remained standing by the window, just outside of the glow cast by her kitchen light.

"You weren't here last night," he said.

"No," she acknowledged nervously. He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't.

"You know, it's not...a great feeling to have someone call you on the phone and hysterically accuse you of killing someone, and then suddenly become completely unreachable."

Sarah looked down at the table, nervously tracing patterns on the surface with her index finger. "I just...needed some time to think. I told you I wasn't going to talk to anyone."

He laughed harshly, and she winced at the sound. "Yeah. You sounded really convincing, too. Besides, you ratting me out wasn't the only possibility going through my head when I couldn't get in touch with you."

She looked up at him, confused as to what he meant, but he didn't appear to notice. Which would seem normal for any other blind man, but this one was usually inexplicably observant.

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"Not to the police."

"I figured as much, what with me not being dead or in handcuffs. That's not what I asked."

"Does it matter?" she said evasively. "I just...spent the night somewhere else. I needed time to think."

"And...what conclusion did you come to? After all this thinking?"

Sarah bit her lip. "I let you in, didn't I? I guess it...it doesn't make a lot of sense. For you to have killed Yates."

"A ringing endorsement," he said dryly.

"You interrogated a man in his apartment and he was found dead the next day, Matt. What...what did you think it would look like? But I'm not—I'm not breaking my end of the deal. I swear."

"So you never considered going to the police?" he asked her evenly.

She looked away. Of course she had thought about it. She had dismissed the thought pretty quickly, but it's not like it hadn't crossed her mind. Somehow she didn't think that would go over well, though.

"No," she lied. Her heart pounded as she waited to see if he would catch on somehow, in that way he often did. Instead, he was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.

"Do you have anything new for me?" he asked. Sarah was relieved at the change of subject.

"Yeah, um...maybe. Ronan gave me a box of Yates' stuff that they cleared out of his office. It has some old papers and notebooks and stuff. I'm sure they probably removed anything incriminating, but I figure it's worth a look."

He nodded. "Do you have the box here?"

"No. I have to keep it at work for forty-eight hours in case his family comes to claim it. And I couldn't get a good look with so many people around. Um, if we don't mind waiting a couple of days, I can just wait until the time limit is up and toss it, then we can go back and get it out of the dumpster."

"And if we want it sooner than that?"

"I...can pretend like I left something at work and go back to get it. I mean, I can't get the whole box out the door with the security cameras, but the folders and papers would fit in my purse."

"No," he said immediately. She blinked in surprise. "We'll wait til the forty-eight hours are up."

"Are you sure? I've gone back to work after hours before...which I guess you probably remember," she said awkwardly. "I don't think it would draw a lot of suspicion."

He shook his head. "Too dangerous. Someone might catch on. And if someone does come to claim that box, we don't need them figuring out that some of the contents are missing. We'll wait."

She raised an eyebrow. She hadn't realized he had even considered the danger on her end of their bargain.

Matt shifted oddly, leaning slightly against the wall, and as the kitchen light hit him a bit more Sarah noticed that he was swaying slightly where he stood. Peering at him closer, she saw that the sleeve on his right arm was torn, revealing a long, deep cut down his bicep, and his lip was bleeding. She frowned and hesitated, unsure where the line was drawn when it came to asking about what he did when he wasn't climbing through her kitchen window.

"Um...are you...are you alright?" she asked uncertainly.

"What?" He seemed confused by her sudden change of subject.

"You look, um...injured," she said, gesturing vaguely at his injuries, although she knew he couldn't see the movement.

He shrugged. "It's nothing. Found a few guys who had cornered a—a teenage girl in a parking lot. A couple of them were...surprisingly quick with the switchblades," he said, gesturing to his bleeding arm.

She winced. "Is the girl okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she'll be fine. They pushed her around a bit, but they didn't..." he trailed off and Sarah could see his fists clench and unclench. "She'll be alright," he finished firmly.

Sarah fidgeted uncomfortably. She didn't exactly want to send out friendly vibes, but she couldn't very well let him stand there, bleeding from various wounds after saving some poor girl, and not offer him any sort of help.

"Do you, um..." she trailed off, and he tilted his head back, waiting. "Do you need like, a—a bandage, or...ice or something?"

Her question seemed to confuse him again. Was it that weird of her to ask a bleeding person if they needed some medical assistance? I did recently accuse him of killing someone, she admitted mentally. Maybe it is weird.

He started to answer, then turned his head towards her open window suddenly. It almost looked like he was staring outside, but obviously he couldn't be.

"What—what are you doing?" she asked, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

He didn't answer. Was he hearing something out there? Sarah strained her ears, but she couldn't hear anything beyond the usual traffic below.

"I need to go," he said, already pulling himself through the window. Sarah raised her eyebrows, baffled by his sudden exit. He landed on the fire escape and turned back to her for a second. "I'll check in soon. Just...don't disappear again. This works better when I can keep in touch with you."

He vaulted off the metal scaffolding, and Sarah leaned back in her chair, relieved at how not-violent the night had gone. They seemed to have almost reached a kind of truce. Sarah paused after the thought, then quickly knocked on the wooden table. No need to tempt any jinxes.

Unfortunately, knocking on wood doesn't always work, and the fragile détente between the two of them was to be short lived. In fact, it would be blown all to hell by the next night.

➳

The next day after work, Sarah hailed a cab instead of walking to the subway stop. She had promised her father she'd go to the police station about his ticket. She assumed it was a long shot, but it wasn't unheard of for police to give the court a recommendation for dismissal or leniency if someone presented a good case. She had no idea what that good case could be in this situation, but it was worth a shot.

As it worked out, rush hour traffic ensured that her cab ride to the police station took just as long as the subway would have—at about three times the price—and by the time she arrived the sun was already getting low. Entering the lobby of the police station, she got in line behind two other people and fiddled with the traffic ticket in her hands.

Sarah let her gaze wander around the lobby, and unwillingly her mind turned back to the thoughts that had been plaguing her all day: Yates' death, and Matt's potential hand in it. Maybe she really was in over her head. Here she was, already in the police station, where it would be so easy to just ask to speak with an officer about a wanted criminal...

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the doors leading to the interrogation rooms opened and three men walked through, conversing quietly: a dark skinned officer in uniform, a man in a suit with shaggy blonde hair, and lastly, a familiar dark haired blind man.

Shit.

Sarah realized immediately what the situation would look like to him, but it was too late. For about half a second she hoped that he might not know she was there, but he stopped dead as soon as he came through the doors, turning his sightless gaze in her direction. She didn't know how he knew she was there, but there was no doubt that he did.

"Ma'am?" the desk sergeant behind the counter said. "What did you need?"

Sarah hadn't even realized that the two people in front of her in line had already gone, and that she was next.

"What?" she said too quickly. "I—um—n-nothing. I don't remember. Bye."

The officer raised her eyebrows doubtfully as Sarah hastily shoved the papers back in her purse and made a beeline for the door. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Matt still had his head tilted just slightly in her direction; the officer speaking to him looked confused by his sudden stillness. She could see the vigilante's knuckles turning white as he gripped his cane harder.

As soon as the doors to the station swung closed behind her, she realized that leaving had probably been a mistake. Way to make the situation look even more suspicious, she berated herself. But she knew the damage was already done, and there was no way she was going back inside to explain. Sarah hastily headed towards the subway stop as fast as she could without flat out running. She figured once she was a few blocks away, she could maybe call him and leave a message explaining that she wasn't there about him, and just pray that he believed her and didn't show up at her apartment.

Sarah had just gotten to the intersection when she felt a strong hand grab her upper arm, forcing her to a stop. She knew who it was before she even looked. Turning her head, she saw Matt standing next to her, facing straight ahead. Considering how fast he must have moved to catch up with her speed walking without her noticing, he was remarkably not out of breath.

"I think we should talk, don't you?" he said, speaking lowly so only she could hear him.

"Matt—" she began, but he cut her off.

"You're going to act like you're helping me cross the street, and then we'll find a place to discuss some of the terms of our agreement," he said. His voice was deadly calm, but his vice-like grip told a different story. Any trace of the almost-truce they had come to the previous night was long gone.

Sarah glanced around at the few other people nearby. No one seemed to notice anything off about the situation; to them, she realized, they just looked like a blind man holding onto a friend's arm at a crosswalk. She felt a low hum of panic begin to build in her chest.

"N-no, we don't have to—you don't understand—" She hissed in pain as his grip on her arm tightened suddenly and painfully.

"I think maybe you don't understand. Let me rephrase," he said quietly. "You're going to do as I say and cross the street, or I'm going to break your arm. Is that clearer?"

The crosswalk turned green and began beeping, and he nudged her arm forward. His tight grip on her arm didn't lessen as they crossed. When they reached the other side, he began steering her to the right, though she knew to any potential onlookers it probably still looked like she was leading him. She quickly realized what he was pushing her towards, and her stomach dropped in dread as they approached the opening to a very dark and out-of-sight alleyway. Sure enough, he turned sharply when they came to it, and yanked her a few yards further until they reached a large dumpster. They rounded the side of the dumpster, which effectively blocked them from view of the street, and he let go of her arm roughly, so that she stumbled back against the metal container.

Matt was breathing heavily, and even with his dark glasses instead of the mask, she instantly recognized the look on his face. It was the same one he had gotten when she accidentally revealed his friend's nickname, right before he had lost it and pinned her to the wall. Sarah nervously glanced around her. Almost all of the windows in the building behind him were boarded up, and the alley ended in a brick wall. She eyed the windowsill to her right, which was also boarded up; there was an empty beer bottle within arms reach.

"You know, if you were going to try and turn me in without me catching you, it might have been a smarter move to go to a police station not in Hell's Kitchen," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

"Okay, w-wait. I know what you're thinking—"

"I'm thinking that you just broke your part in our agreement, Sarah, less than twenty four hours after you swore you wouldn't, so give me one good reason why I shouldn't do the same."

She paled at his words. Most of his end of the deal consisted of him not throwing her off a roof, and right now it looked like he meant it when he said he wouldn't be holding up that end anymore.

"I wasn't there about anything to do with you. I swear. I wasn't going to—"

"We'll get to what you were going to do in a minute. What I need to know right now is what you've already done. If the police station wasn't your first stop then my friends are in danger, meaning you have about ten seconds to tell me the truth. Have you already told someone?"

"No. No, I—I haven't. A-and I wasn't going to in there, either."

"Then why were you there?"

Sarah hesitated, holding her purse closer to her side as her mind flashed to the traffic ticket she had shoved inside. The ticket with her father's full name and address on it. She knew he couldn't read the actual physical paper, but he was a lawyer; who knew if he could look up tickets in the system somehow, and figure out the connection between her last name and her father's? If she had her way, Matt would never even know she had a father. Or any family or friends, for that matter. In a perfect scenario, he would believe that she had simply popped into existence and lived her life in a vacuum, with nobody that he could track down if their partnership went downhill. Which it looked like it was about to do. Rapidly.

"You know, when someone takes this long to answer, it's not usually a good indicator that they're about to tell you the truth," Matt said coldly.

"It...it was for...personal reasons," she said lamely. Her mind was blanking on any possible excuses she could come up with.

"Personal reasons?" he repeated. She could hear the disbelief in his tone. "This is my life you're messing with. The lives of people I love. You can at least come up with a better lie than personal reasons," he spat.

"It's not a lie! I just, I can't—I can't tell you. Why I was there. B-but it had nothing to do with you, I swear."

"Really. If it had nothing to do with me, why can't you tell me what it was?"

"I just—you don't need to know," she said, trying to sound firm, but even she could hear the tremble in her voice. "It's not relevant. T-to anything that we're doing."

"So you're telling me," he said slowly, his voice heavy with skepticism as he took a step towards her, "that your mysterious reason for being in the police station has nothing to do with me? Nothing to do with Orion, or why you're working there? No connection to...any of that at all?"

Except that I was there for the one person who got me involved in any of this in the first place.