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Turning around, Beth realises that the end of the street has disappeared. A creeping sense of dread starts to crawl through her, a whisper that maybe those kids on the T.V screaming about the storm of the century weren’t being fusspots. Maybe she should turn back, swallow her pride and call Henry and cancel.
But no. It’s only a few more streets to her boy’s place, and if it’s not safe for the kids to come to Grandma’s, Grandma is going to the kids.
She’s promised, after all.
Pulling the bag of presents - carefully hidden at Grandma’s where even clever Eliza wouldn’t find them - over her shoulder, she shuffles on. Short, careful strides, with an eye to where each step lands. On her hip, the bruise from the last fall aches as a reminder of what’s going to happen if she gets this wrong.
Her cane taps the side of the street, near the crossing. She looks up, surprise running through her at how engaged she’d been in her steps.
And her blood runs cold, ice filling her and snatching the heat from her in a way the piercing wind hadn’t yet managed to.
She can’t see the other side of the road. It’s dark , and blurred in a way that steals the breath from her. Worse still is the ever growing pile of snow between her and the other side of the road, a mass of white that’s only getting bigger every second she waits here.
‘Are you alright?’ a man asks, pulling Beth out of her thoughts with a jump. Her foot doesn’t land right and she starts to slip-
But then the man is there, a strong grip on her arm - that’s sure to bruise but Beth hardly has time to care about that now - that holds her up. She looks up into the dark eyes of the devil.
‘Daredevil,’ she breathes and Daredevil smiles. It’s a soft one that seems out of place with the red leather of his costume but it calms Beth’s frantically beating heart. She knows what Daredevil does - old McGrady across the hall loves to gossip about what criminal her son on the force found beaten half to death last night - but somehow… she feels safe. As safe as if she’d been on her sofa at home, under her blanket.
It’s something about that smile. It’s not a vicious smile. It’s the sort of smile that makes you want to wrap someone in blankets.
That, and the face it’s on - or at least the bit she can see - is a very good looking one.
‘Are you alright?’ Daredevil asks again, a note of concern in his voice. He pulls Beth to her feet. ‘It’s dangerous to be out tonight.’
Beth grimaces. ‘I’m fine young man!’ she snarls, pulling her arm from his grip. A hot drop of anger runs through her at how easy it is to get her arm back - he let her go then. ‘I’m just on my way to my son’s place.’
Daredevil smiles, a charming one that has Beth’s heart fluttering without her permission, damn it. ‘Would you allow me to escort you there then?’ he asks, raising his head towards the sky. ‘It looks like it’s only going to get worse, and I’d hate for someone to try and take advantage of you on the way.’
Running the words over in her head, Beth considers her options. She could refuse but something tells her Daredevil wouldn’t listen. He’d just appear to do so, disappearing from sight to follow her there.
Best to have him in sight then.
She pushes down the thought that accepting means a steady arm to hold for the rest of the walk.
‘If you insist,’ she says and something in her melts at the way Daredevil’s smile brightens. He holds out his arm and she takes it.
It’s a little awkward - for a moment, Daredevil’s grip is a bit off as if he’s used to the one holding an arm instead of being held - but that only lasts a second. After that, Beth has a steady presence by her side, holding her up whenever she slips even a tiny bit.
Daredevil asks for her son’s address, and nods slightly when she gives it. From then on, his steps are sure. He continues on a sure path forward; one that doesn’t stop at corners - not even to check if there’s any foolish soul driving. He just… continues, as if the path is clear for him.
Maybe he really is the devil.
He vanishes the moment Beth rings her son’s doorbell but the hairs on the back of her neck stand up right until the moment her son swears and pulls her inside. So he stuck around to make sure she got in.
If he’d waited, he would have got a cup of coffee before he went. Beth would’ve made sure of it, especially on a night like this.
He might be the devil, Beth thinks as her grandchildren scream in delight at the sight of her, but he’s a good one to have around.
Who needs angels with a devil like this?
********
Stupid. Reckless. Foolish. Idiot.
Ben grimaces at the words echoing through his head in his father’s voice, a continuous loop explaining that how fucked he is right now is all his fault. It’s not an uncommon loop to be running through his head, though usually he can scream back at it and mostly convince himself it’s wrong.
Not this time.
Staring out his windshield, all he can see is the wall he’s just crashed into and a thin layer of snow already settled on his hood. A part of him notes distantly that he’s been sitting here staring at this scene for a little while now and maybe he should move or something, but it’s a very distant part that’s hard to hear over the aforementioned loop.
Aforementioned. That’s a nice long word. Funny one too.
The door beside Ben is pulled open with a groan. He rolls his head towards it, and hisses when hands appear either side of his head to stop the movement.
‘Don’t move,’ a man growls, as the devil’s face appears above Ben’s. ‘I need a minute.’
‘Min ute ,’ Ben repeats, then giggles. Minute and minute are spelt the same but sound so different.
Words are so weird.
Daredevil - and a part of Ben jumps for joy because he’s meeting a real life superhero - gives him a concerned look. ‘You have a concussion,’ he says gently and removes his hands. ‘But I can’t hear any broken bones.’
Hear broken bones? That’s gotta be the coolest power ever.
‘Thank you?’ Daredevil says, looking very nonplussed. ‘There’s an ambulance on its way. Do you have a blanket in the car?’
Ben waves a hand at the back of his car. Sally’d nagged him into carrying one after their last date had to end early because Ben had gotten cold. Which had been awful as Ben had nearly convinced her that English Lit was a waaay better major than History .
Well. Maybe got her halfway to nearly convinced.
Daredevil smiles and throws the blanket over Ben. ‘Stay here,’ he says like Ben’s capable of moving. ‘I’m going to go get help.’
He turns and walks into the wall of white beside the car, the black of his suit standing out momentarily against the white of the snow. Then the snow swallows it, as it has all other things.
A part of Ben thinks maybe there’s something he should be wondering about here, but the rest of him is focused on the thought of Sally so it slips by.
********
Becky’s never worked a night like this and now, halfway through her shift, is so far past wishing it’d never happened she’s almost back to plain old regret.
It’s not just the poor conditions and near zero visibility making her job damned near impossible. No, it’s also the idiots ignoring every bit of screamed advice to stay in and coming out in this ‘storm of the century’. And, predictably, getting into trouble.
And staying in trouble, seeing as though the road is now so white Becky’s half sure she’s going to drive right by their next job. Even with Becca squinting out the window, searching for the rather large target of a crashed car.
But if it’s the wrong side of the road, they’re toast.
Becca gasps, and Becky’s already hit the brakes. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up with her body and register that there’s a man in a red and black suit, standing in the middle of the road.
Daredevil. Fuck.
And if Becca hadn’t gasped, Becky would’ve hit him.
Thank goodness for her partner.
Said partner is already throwing the door open, halfway through a shouted sentence full of the kind of profanity Becky’s sure Becca picked up from her sailor brothers.
Daredevil holds up a hand and a wave of surprise rolls through Becky when Becca actually stops shouting. And steps back, head tilted.
‘You here for the car crash?’ he asks, somehow projecting his voice so Becky can hear but not actually shouting. Considering the wind that’s stealing all but the loudest noises, it’s quite an achievement.
‘Yes,’ Becca says, already turning for the back of their ambulance and their equipment. Becky looks out at the road, noting the unmarked snow covering it. Dispatch had said a plow had been through here not five minutes ago, just after the call about the crash came in, but right now, Becky can’t see any evidence it was here.
‘This way,’ Daredevil says, pointing to the left. Becky climbs out, turning the engine off, and grabs her own equipment.
Daredevil’s steps are sure as he leads them through the white that is their world now. He doesn’t pause or hesitate; doesn’t look left or right - not even when a dampened bang sounds to their right.
But he does lead them true, straight to the blue car with a single male passenger that dispatch had described the crash consisting of. Becca’s at his side in an instant, being her work, while Becky hangs back to radio into dispatch. It looks like the victim isn’t trapped but they’re going to need a snow plow accompaniment if they want to actually get him there.
‘How’d you find him, if the roads are that bad? ’
Becky smirks, glad they’ve at least rostered the fun dispatcher for tonight. ‘Daredevil’s apparently giving up on beating the crooks for a night and playing at being a Saint Bernard for the night.’
‘Oh you too then? Twelfth one tonight - say if he’s still around give him a check up, will you? Reports say he’s been out for hours wearing only that suit.’
Becky turns without replying, already going for the space blanket she packed right on top.
But Daredevil’s already vanished.
********
BANG!
Foggy drops the files he’s been looking over, unable to find any concern for the messy pile they fall into. Instead he’s reaching for the pile of blankets that he left perched on the chair beside him and stumbling for the window.
He gets there just as Matt slams it shut and falls, tripping over his own feet. Foggy catches him and eases him towards the sofa, tugging off his mask in the process.
‘You’re insane ,’ Foggy hisses as he helps Matt out of his frozen suit. ‘You said you’d only be out for an hour nearly three hours ago!’
‘I couldn’t leave them,’ Matt says - or at least, tries to say. It comes out a mess of syllables that are barely in the right order. But Foggy’s got experience translating drunk Matt into English - though usually then he’d been drunk too - and is getting very good at translating injured Matt into English.
A skill he always wishes he didn’t have to learn but it’s coming in handy anyway.
‘If you kill yourself trying to help them, you’ll be leaving them anyway,’ Foggy snaps and tries to push down the bolt of pain that roars through him at the way Matt flinches. He should be pleased he’s managing to score a flinch from Matt - any words that don’t hurt him never seem to land.
‘I couldn’t leave them,’ Matt repeats in a bewildered tone and Foggy sighs. Matt might not be up for the attacks right now.
Even if all Foggy’s saying is what needs to be said.
‘Warm yourself up,’ he says instead, wrapping another blanket around his friend. ‘There’s a cup of your tea on the table and I’ll be making cocoa once you get that down.’
Matt smiles his soft friend smile, the one he only does when they’re alone and Foggy’s done something that breaks his world view a little. ‘Thanks Foggy.’
Foggy pats Matt on the back and goes to make the cocoa.
It’s all he can do, to maybe keep his Matt alive for just a little bit longer.
God help him, he hopes it’s enough.