Jim stared at his surroundings, praying it wasn’t real. “No, no, no,” he muttered as he grabbed his hair. His fingers brushed his horns, and he flinched slightly, still unused to the hard spikes on his head. His appearance however, was the least of his concerns at the moment. “What am I doing back here?”
The damp, musky smell. Loud, echoey chambers that gave away his position every time he took a step. The black rocks infused with haunting green light. He was somewhere he never wanted to set foot in again: the Darklands.
Jim stared at his surroundings, praying it wasn’t real. “No, no, no,” he muttered as he grabbed his hair. His fingers brushed his horns, and he flinched slightly, still unused to the hard spikes on his head. His appearance however, was the least of his concerns at the moment. “What am I doing back here?”
The damp, musky smell. Loud, echoey chambers that gave away his position every time he took a step. The black rocks infused with haunting green light. He was somewhere he never wanted to set foot in again: the Darklands.
“This is a dream,” the Trollhunter muttered, shaking his head. “Time to wake up.” He quickly closed his eyes and rubbed vigorously, then gave his arm a nice pinch for good measure before looking around again, hoping his situation had changed. It hadn’t.
“Come on, wake up Jim. Wake up!”
Slapping himself did nothing to change his predicament either, though it did leave his cheek smarting afterwards. Before he could try anything else to wake up, he heard a deep grumbling laugh from behind him.
“Pathetic.”
Jim’s blood froze in his veins. He knew that voice, but it was one he hadn’t heard for ages.
“Bular?”
This is a dream, Jim. Bular isn’t really here. You killed him on the bridge. He’s gone.
“You may have killed my body, Trollhunter, but where do you think the rest of trolls go when they die?”
“No … no, that’s not right. They go to the void!”
Another chuckle sounded, but this was one Jim had heard more recently. “Gunmar,” he growled. In an instant, Eclipse appeared in his hands. Now if he could only see his enemies …
“Be that as it may, Trollhunter, this is all in your head, isn’t it? To you, all trolls like my son and I belong in the Darklands, not the beautiful rest the void provides.”
“It is a dream?” Even if the assurance came from Gunmar, it still provided Jim with a modicum of relief to have someone else confirm it as well.
“You think you defeated us, tiny champion,” a new voice said from above. “But we’re never far away.” With a jolt, Jim’s eyes shot upwards, and he backed away as he saw Morgana descending towards him. He didn’t get very far before he backed into something hard, and large hands wrapped around his biceps. Even in Jim’s new, bulked out troll form, Bular’s hands still engulfed his arms like they were twigs, and when the massive troll squeezed, Jim felt like his bones would crumble to dust. Jim grunted and struggled, but nothing he did freed him from Bular’s grasp, and only made Bular squeeze harder. Finally, for the sake of his arms, Jim stilled. Eclipse dangled in Jim’s hand, but with his arms trapped and unable to move, it wasn’t much use at the moment. Hopefully he could use it soon.
Morgana touched down and sauntered toward the Trollhunter. From behind the Pale Lady, the hulking figure of Gunmar appeared, his black and gold body glowing.
“No matter where you go, no matter where you and your tiny friends find to hide, we will always find you.” Morgana was close enough that she ran her fingers over Jim’s cheek. The teenager impulsively bit at the witch, hoping his new incisors would do some damage, but she pulled back.
“Tsk tsk, tiny champion,” she said. “When will you learn manners?”
Out of nowhere, one of Morgana’s golden whips appeared, and she lashed out at the young Trollhunter. This time though, instead of wrapping around his wrists or chest, the golden thread coiled around his throat. Even if the move hadn’t cut off his airway, the strand burned like the sun, and Jim found himself gasping in pain as well as desperation for air.
“It’s just … a … dream,” the teenager groaned out as he jerked and fought against Bular’s grip and Morgana’s rope. “It’s not … real!”
“It may be a dream, boy,” Morganna sneered. “But this is very real.”
At that, Gunmar raced forward, vaulting himself into the air with a roar. As he descended, the Gumm-Gumm leader clenched his fists.
Desperately, Jim twisted his wrist, pointing Eclipse straight up in the air, hoping to impale the ghost of Gunmar, but Bular yanked Jim’s arm behind his back, turning Eclipse away from its target. Jim shouted in pain and frustration, but couldn’t do anything else as Gunmar’s fists reached their target.
Suddenly Jim bolted upright with a gasp and a cough, rolling away from his position, Eclipse striking a deep divot in the ground as he did so. Springing to his feet, Jim turned and looked wildly.
“Where’d they go?” he asked out loud, unable to see Bular, Gunmar, or Morgana.
“Jim!”
Jim knew that voice, better than almost anyone’s. “Claire?” He spun around and there, standing right behind him, was his girlfriend.
“Jim, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she said quietly. When Jim looked at her, he was surprised to see a touch of fear lining her face. Suddenly he realized he was still holding Eclipse, and in his current state of apparent fight or flight, he realized he was capable of swinging the sword at anyone who approached him.
“Where are they?” he asked, trying not to growl at the girl he loved.
“Where are who? Jim, you were having a nightmare. Whatever it was, it’s not real.”
“It is … it was.” Jim faltered. It had to have been a nightmare, right? There was no way all three of his worst enemies were able to hijack his dreams and actually hurt him. Now that he’d been awake for a few seconds, he was calming down and realizing he was safe. Slowly, he reached up and hooked Eclipse onto his back before rubbing his eyes to get the rest of the sleep out of his system.
“Did I hurt anyone?” he asked, looking around at the sleeping trolls.
To his immense relief, Claire shook her head. “No. You just started twitching, and then groaning. I tried to wake you up, but that’s when you pulled Eclipse and jumped up. You didn’t do anything for a bit, but then … I don’t know, it was like you snapped. What were you dreaming about?”
Jim rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed that he could have hurt any of his friends. Apparently he needed to learn to control himself better.
“Nothing,” he lied. It was obvious Claire didn’t buy that lie though, with her cocked eyebrow and skeptical stare boring into Jim’s soul.
“It was Gunmar, wasn’t it?” she asked. She’d always been more observant than the average teenager at Arcadia Oaks. For a moment, Jim didn’t say anything, but then he nodded shortly.
“And Bular and Morgana,” he added. “But it was just a dream,” he continued, not wanting her to worry.
“What’s this, Master Jim?” Blinky asked, coming up behind the two teeangers.
“Nothing,” Jim said, wishing the attention would fall somewhere else. “Just a bad dream.”
“A dream where he ran into Morgana, Gunmar, and Bular,” Claire contended.
“Ah. I can see why such a dream might cause alarm, Master Jim. Tell me, what happened in the dream?”
Jim looked at his friends. “If I tell you, do you promise to drop it?”
Claire crossed her finger over her heart. “Promise.”
Blinky held his right hands to the square. “You have my word as well.”
After staring at them critically for another second, Jim finally explained what happened in his dream. At first, he just tried to skim over and give them a quick summary, but they kept asking questions about parts he glossed over, so he ended up giving a more detailed explanation. Not quite a play-by-play, but almost. What was said, what happened, and how it ended. By the time he finished, Jim was unconsciously rubbing his arms where Bular had grabbed him--it was like his arms were actually bruised from the imaginary pressure.
“But it was just a dream,” Jim finished. “I’m awake now, and we need to get moving.” He wanted to forget the dream had ever happened. Besides that, Morgana’s words about it being real unnerved him. She was a liar and manipulator, but her words echoed in his head, refusing to leave him alone.
“Master Jim,” Blinky said after a moment. “You said Morgana attacked you, correct? Used her whips of light around your throat?”
“Yeah, why?”
Jim had a feeling he didn’t want to hear what Blinky had to say next, but he didn’t stop the troll.
“Well … correct me if I’m mistaken, but … there’s a mark on your throat that you didn’t have yesterday.”
The rain lashed against the window, blown horizontal by the wind. Thunder and lightning flashed around, but Tony paid the weather little attention as he made his way through the compound. The billionaire mentally ran through a list of things he needed to finish before the day was over. Pepper needed to sign off on a few expenses, there was that press conference at four that he needed to be at, his teenager was sitting in front of one of the TVs, he had to--
Tony stopped, then backtracked, just to double check. Sure enough, Peter was sitting in front of a TV, a controller in his hand.
“Kid, what are you still doing here?”
With a jump, Peter turned and stared at Tony for a moment. “Hey Mr. Stark! Sorry, I just--No!” Peter turned back to the television just in time to see his animated character fly off a brightly colored bridge, sinking into the starry expanse below. His character was quickly resurrected by a turtle on a cloud, but Peter hit pause before he could fall again or lose the race entirely. When he was sure the game was paused, the teenager turned back to his mentor.
“I thought your training with Romanoff ended hours ago?”
“Yeah, no, it did. I couldn’t find Happy for a ride, so I was just gonna swing home, but …” The teenager made a wide gesture to the stormy weather outside.
“Makes sense, I guess.” Tony sniffed, and Peter sat there, a little awkwardly. “I didn’t even know we had this … getup,” Tony added, gesturing to the TV.
“You didn’t know you had … TVs?”
“Yeah, okay, smart aleck, I knew we had the TVs, just not the … Wii? Is that a Wii? Aren’t those things outdated? I didn’t even know they still sold those things in the store?”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, this isn’t new. I’ve had this console for years. Yeah, this was actually the last thing my uncle got for me.” Peter looked down. “I’d been begging for months to get one. Ben and May, they saved for almost as long as I’d been asking, and I came home from school one day to find this sitting on my bed. That was right before the spider bite,” the teenager finished, looking at the screen with a distant look in his eye, like he was reliving his life before everything changed.
Tony knew Peter didn’t usually get this nostalgic, at least not in front of people. Something must have triggered him, or set something off inside to make him start talking like this.
“Anyway, sorry, Mr. Stark. I know you’re busy, so I’ll just stay here until the storm calms down a little, and--”
“Nah, not really a lot goin’ on today,” Tony interrupted nonchalantly. The billionaire came around and sat on the couch. “Just as long as your aunt knows you’re still here? I don’t really need to be yelled at today.”
Peter chuckled. “Yeah, she knows. I texted her when I decided to stay here.”
The two of them sat there, more than a little awkward. Tony finally glanced around, spotting a second remote sitting by the TV.
“‘Kay, well, you’re gonna need to grab me that remote then,” Stark said, nodding towards the TV. Peter looked to where the older man was looking, then glanced back at Tony.
“You wanna … you’re … are you sure you don’t have other things to do?”
“You don’t want me to play with you?”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant, I just know that you’re super busy and everything, so--”
“Whatever else I’ve got going on today, it can wait. I’m gonna show you how to really play this game.”
“You’re gonna … do you even know what Mariokart is?” Peter’s cheeky grin earned him a shove from the billionaire, and the teenager couldn’t stop himself chuckling as he moved to get Tony the remote.
“Who do you think helped design and build this game?” Tony asked. Peter stopped in his tracks and looked back at Tony.
“You … wait, are you serious?”
“Nope, definitely messing with you. I have no idea how this works. Show me.”
Peter spent the next few minutes explaining how to play, how to work the controllers, and helping Stark pick a character.
Peter stuck with his original character, Yoshi, and Tony chose Waluigi. “Okay,” Peter said after they’d chosen their characters and vehicles. “We’ll start with the first track, just to get you used to the controls and everything, so--”
“Nuh uh,” Tony cut in. “Let’s go to that last one you were racing.”
Peter’s eyes widened a little. “Rainbow Road? You wanna start on Rainbow Road?”
“I don’t start off easy, kid. Besides, it’s a game. How hard can it be?”
0-0-0
Pepper stared at her phone, waiting for a reply from Tony. He’d disappeared, which wasn’t necessarily unlike him, but the fact that he had a press conference in thirty minutes, and no one had been able to get ahold of him for a few hours made her a little antsy. Friday confirmed he was still on the compound, but apparently the billionaire had instructed the AI not to give his exact position away. Pepper had no idea why Tony would do that, but she now had to search the compound for him herself, especially since he wasn’t answering his phone.
As she made her way down one of the hallways, she suddenly heard voices coming from inside one of the rooms. Silently, Pepper poked her head inside the room and came across a sight that made her heart melt.
Tony was sitting on the couch, and Peter was on the floor in front of him. They were playing a video game while talking loudly over each other.
“You’re cheating. There’s no way you keep coming in first,” Tony argued.
“I swear, Mr. Stark, I’m not cheating!” Peter cackled as he zoomed past Tony, lapping him.
“Well then, your head is blocking the sensor from my severely outdated Wii remote, and that’s why I keep falling off.”
“That’s not why you keep falling off, Mr. Stark,” Peter assured his mentor. Peter raced across the finish line, and the screen flashed, alerting Tony that his character had come in last place.
“You’re just blocking my sensor on purpose,” Tony insisted.
“Here, I’ve got an idea that’ll show you how I’m really not,” Peter said with a laugh. The teenager got up, and with a flip jump, stuck to the ceiling with his sticky feet. “Now I have to play upside down and backwards, so you’ll see that I’m not cheating. I’m just better at this game than you!”
“That, Mr. Parker, sounds like a challenge.”
“It’d only be a challenge if you were any good at this game.”
“Start the race, kid. I’ll show you just how good I can be.”
Pepper watched in silence, amused, as Peter selected one of the races again. The countdown started, but as the small animated figures took off, a black cloud appeared over Tony’s character, and he got a later start than the rest of the racers.
“You keep pressing two too early!” Peter said from his spot on the ceiling. “Gives you a false start.”
“Yeah, yeah, just drive.”
The race took less than five minutes. Tony fell off the track at least once per lap, and Peter ended up lapping him again.
While Tony loudly exclaimed that somehow, Peter was indeed cheating, Pepper turned and walked back down the hallway.
“Friday?”
“Yes, Ms. Potts?”
“Cancel Tony’s press conference today, would you?”
“What should I say is the reason for the cancellation?”
Pepper paused as Tony let out a curse as the redhead assumed they started another race. “Just tell them he’s taking a personal day.”
0-0-0
“Let’s do that Bowser’s Castle again,” Tony said, determined to not fall off this time.
Peter hesitated, glancing at the billionaire. When the screen didn’t show the opening credits for the race, Tony looked up at the teenager and caught him staring. “What? Come on, let’s go. I’m getting better, I got eleventh last time. And don’t think I didn’t notice you slowing down for me a couple races ago. No gimmes.”
Peter let a small smile light on his face. He wasn’t going to tell Mr. Stark, but exactly a week from today would be the anniversary of his uncle’s death. That was why he’d broken the Wii out again. He and May had something special planned for the day of, but Peter had his own tradition. Mariokart had been the last game he and his uncle had played, a week before Ben died. Playing the stupid racing game always made Peter feel a little closer to his uncle. And now, playing it with his mentor, somehow made him feel closer to Ben. As if playing with Tony reminded him of what it was like to have a father figure.
Finally, Peter selected the Bowser’s Castle he knew Tony was talking about, and the two of them waited for the race to start.
Natasha and Clint trekked across the sandy expanse of Vormir, heading towards the ridiculously large mountain. The wind whipped at them, pulling a few hairs from Natasha’s braid loose and ruffling Clint’s new haircut. Neither spoke; the rest of the planet lay in silence, and the two of them mentally agreed not to break it. That was, until a voice came from behind them.
“Wait.”
Shocked, the two spies turned around and watched Captain America coming towards them. Natasha watched him, fear playing across her face.
“Steve? What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story. Basically, if you go to get the stone, Nat, you’re going to die.”
Steve’s words seemed to resonate with the assassin, and she looked back at the mountain. After a moment, she straightened up and looked back at the two men with her. “Whatever it takes,” she replied evenly.
“Wait, how do you know that, Cap?” Clint asked. Natasha’s gaze seemed to penetrate Steve’s soul, and by the change in her expression, Steve could tell she understood.
“You’re from the future.”
Clint looked over at his partner, then back at the Captain. The soldier wasn’t denying Natasha’s statement. Shoulders shuddering slightly as Clint breathed deeply, the archer stared at Steve.
“Did we win? Did they … did everyone come back?”
“I don’t know how much I should tell you. All I know is that if you go up that mountain, only one of you is coming back.”
“Whatever the cost, I’ll pay it,” Clint rushed.
“There’s no way,” Natasha argued. “If we did win, your family needs you. The kids need their father.”
“And what do I tell ‘em when they ask what I did while they were gone, huh? I can’t tell them what I did! They’d never speak to me again. They could use their aunt Nat way more than me.”
“That’s not true Clint, and you know it. Besides, I’ve got a checkered past--much more than yours.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Steve interrupted. The spies looked back at Rogers, both of them seeming to have almost forgotten he was there. Steve reached into the bag he had at his side, being careful to only touch the contents with his gloved hand. He retracted his fisted hand and held out the large yellow stone.
“Just … take this. Take it back, and use it.”
“Where did you get this?” Natasha asked.
Clint had questions too. “Steve, what if this changes … everything?”
“Banner’s whole explanation of time and time travel still confuses me, but from what he described, it sounds like we’re good. Besides, at this point, there are two soul stones on the same world. That’s gotta mess things up more than not, right? A paradox?”
Barton and Natasha looked at each other, still unsure of what to do. Finally, Natasha reached out and gently took the stone from Steve. Physically, nothing changed. There was no bright light, no flash of color, nothing, but Steve could feel it. Something had changed. With a nod to the two spies, Steve tapped on his time GPS. Before he initialized the jump, he looked at Natasha.
“See you in a minute.”
~~~
“Danvers. We could use an assist.”
Zeroing in on the target, Carol landed in front of the young man clutching the gauntlet, who stared up at her with wide eyes.
“Hi I’m … Peter Parker.”
Carol felt a grin tug at her mouth. “Hey Peter Parker. You got something for me?”
Peter struggled to his feet, groaning as things jostled inside his body that shouldn’t be jostling. He stared at the approaching army, a tired look in his eyes. Without hesitation, Peter handed the gauntlet over to the new comer, stating, “I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that.”
Suddenly, Scarlet Witch descended from above and landed behind the glowing lady. “Don’t worry.”
“She’s got help,” came another voice. Peter looked over and saw a woman in a red dress staring at the army determinately. Pepper Potts landed next, flipping her mask back, and Peter watched as more and more powerful women appeared almost out of nowhere. He felt around for a solid surface, the pain in his chest making it more difficult to breathe, but he couldn’t stop watching the parade of women in front of him. Their power gave him goosebumps. Then, just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, Natasha Romanoff stepped in front of the group.
The redhead-turned-blonde-turned-back-redhead glanced at the women behind her. With a small smirk, she said, “Let’s go.”
In unison, the group surged forward, taking on alien after alien that came their way.
A sappy tribute to our wonderful Birthday Irondad and his spiderson ♥️
.
“Peter? Peeeeter?” Ned waved his hand in front of his friend’s face, finally breaking Peter out of his dazed trance.
“Hmm? What? Sorry,” Peter said, looking around as if just remembering where he was.
The final bell had rung, dismissing students. Usually Peter was the first one out the door, eager to get on patrol, but he’d promised Ned he’d go to the store with him to get stuff for their English project. Peter began gathering his backpack and shoving his pen and various books inside.
“Where’d you go?” Ned asked. His eyes lit up. “Were you reliving your last mission? Was there a lot of fighting? Did you see any epic—“
“Shhh.” Peter stared at his friend expectantly. “Remember the whole secret part of my identity?”
“Sorry,” Ned replied immediately, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Thankfully, there was no one else in the room with them. Even the teacher had already left. “What were you thinking about?”
“What do you get a man who has everything?” Peter asked, hoping maybe Ned could shed some light on the subject.
“What do you mean?”
Peter stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, and he and Ned made their way out of the classroom. “It’s Mr. Stark’s birthday, and I mean … he’s done so much for me, I just feel like I should get him something … y’know, show him I appreciate everything. But … he’s Tony Stark. If he doesn’t already have something, he can go get it himself really easily.”
“I don’t think that’s the point of getting birthday gifts though,” Ned pointed out. “The point is that you thought of him. I bet he’ll like anything you get him.”
“What are we talking about?” a new, but familiar voice piped up from behind. Ned and Peter glanced back and saw MJ walking directly behind them.
“How … how long have you been there?” Peter asked, hoping she hadn’t overheard everything.
“Just something about a billionaire and birthdays,” came her slightly-bored reply.
“Oh. Well, it’s uh, Mr. Stark’s birthday, and I thought I’d get him a gift. Y’know, to say thanks for the … internship.”
“He’s already got everything he needs,” MJ said flippantly. Peter stared at the girl, unamused.
“Yeah, thanks for pointing out what I already know.”
“I wasn’t finished.” Michelle didn’t sound upset at Peter’s snark. “He’s already got everything he needs. You just need to get him something he doesn’t know he wants.”
“That’s … actually a really good idea,” Ned agreed.
“Yeah, but how do I know it’s what he wants if he doesn’t even know it?” Peter asked.
“Where are you guys going now?”
Peter wanted to ask what that had to do with his current predicament, but Ned answered before he could.
“WalMart. We gotta get poster board for Ms. Randolph’s assignment.”
“Cool. I’ll come with.” She looked at Peter. “Just keep your eyes peeled. I bet there’s something there you can get your boss.”
Peter seriously doubted it, but he kept those doubts to himself.
0-0-0
“Cool. Finding poster board took all of two minutes. Now birthday shopping.” Michelle turned and stared at Peter. “See anything?”
Peter looked around the section they were in. “Um … I don’t think Mr. Stark cares about … eco-friendly cardstock.”
“Hey, who knows. Didn’t he have something to do with clean energy a few years back?”
“You know what I mean.” Peter was trying not to scowl at the girl.
“Okay, fine. Let’s go check out other things.”
They exited the crafts section and began wandering around.
“Hey,” Ned said as they passed by the fabrics. “You could do something with this!” The young man was pointing to a bunch of fleece that had Iron Man plastered all over it. Peter made a face.
“Seems tacky,” MJ said, thankfully voicing what Peter was thinking.
They wandered a few more minutes. When they passed by the shoe section, MJ chuckled. “You could get him some of these,” she suggested, taking down a pair of duck slippers.
“Maybe …”
“Come on. Everyone needs a good pair of animal slippers,” MJ coaxed.
“Hey Peter!” Ned called out. Peter and Michelle looked up from the slippers and saw Ned standing by the frozen food, holding up a small carton of something. The two of them made their way over to their friend. “What about this?”
Ned was holding a carton of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, only it was a new flavor. A uniquely-named new flavor.
“Stark-Raving Hazelnuts?” Peter read aloud.
“Look, it’s not the only one,” Ned pointed out. Sure enough, there were at least half a dozen other flavors, all having to do with the Avengers.
Peter was holding the ice cream in his hand, weighing the options, when his eyes wandered over to the clothing section. More specifically, the shirts. Passing the ice cream to Michelle, Peter made his way over to the shirts. There was one in particular that caught his eye, and for some reason, it just felt right. Peter picked up the shirt and held it up for Ned and Michelle to see. In unison, both of them nodded in agreement. That was the gift for Tony Stark.
Suddenly, Peter’s phone began ringing. He looked at the screen to see who it was, and with a jolt he saw Stark’s name pop up on his screen. Quickly, he answered it.
“Mr. Parker,” Tony greeted.
“Hey, Mr. Stark!”
“Where are you, kid? Doin’ anything important?”
Peter looked at his friends. “Uh … just out getting some stuff for school with Ned and MJ.”
“Great. Happy’s on his way to pick you up. Got something I wanna show you. He’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“O--okay,” Peter stammered.
“Is it okay?” Tony sounded skeptical.
“Hm? Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. I’ll see you soon.” The call was disconnected, and Peter looked up at Ned and MJ. “I need something to wrap this in.”
0-0-0
“Gooood afternoon, Mr. Parker,” Tony greeted as he came up behind Happy and Peter. The billionaire was holding a framed something in his hands, but he was holding it so that it was facing away from Peter, and the teenager couldn’t see what was inside the frame. Suddenly, the bag in Peter’s hands felt a million times heavier, and the teenager desperately tried to figure out if there was some way he could get rid of the cheesy gift. Tossing it out the window seemed like the best idea, but unfortunately, all the windows were currently shut, and more than likely didn’t even open. So Peter did the only thing he could think of: he put his hands behind his back and stood with his legs as close together as possible, trying to hide the fact that he was hiding something.
Unfortunately, Tony didn’t miss anything. “What is that you’re desperately trying to hide behind your back?” he asked. Slowly, Peter brought his hands out from behind him. The brightly colored “Happy Birthday” bag felt childish to Peter now, and he didn’t even want to think about the shirt inside.
“It’s … uh … nothing. Really, it’s nothing.”
Tony’s eyebrow quirked up. “Wanna try that again?”
“It’syourbirthdaypresent,” Peter finally said, slurring all his words together in a desperate attempt to his humiliation over with.
“Oh?”
Peter stared at the ground in embarrassment. How could he think that he could actually get something for Tony Stark, the billionaire who could get anything he wanted?
“Do I get to open the birthday present, or are you just gonna stand there?”
Peter reluctantly handed it over as Tony slipped the frame under his arm. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, it’s just dumb, I wasn’t really thinking. I can give you the receipt, you can return it. Or I guess, I can just return it myself …” Peter stopped talking and bit his lip as the billionaire opened the bag and reached inside.
“Stark-raving hazelnuts?” Tony pulled the ice cream out of the bag. There were droplets of water on the carton, and Peter mentally smacked himself in the head. He’d tried to keep in front of the AC on the car ride up, but apparently it wasn’t enough to keep the ice cream from melting.
“Sorry,” Peter muttered.
“I’m technically not eating dairy anymore, but I gotta try this.” Tony pried the lid off, and to Peter’s amazement, stuck his finger right into the container and pulled out a decently-solid piece of ice cream. Before any of the creamy liquid could drip onto the floor or his suit jacket, Tony quickly stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking off the sweet treat. After a moment, Tony nodded. “That’s not half bad,” he said. “Hap, you wanna put this in a freezer?” Tony stuck the lid back on and tossed the ice cream to Happy. “Make sure it’s known that if anyone eats it, I’m comin’ for them.”
“You … you want me to leave you alone again?”
“I promise. I’ll be good for thirty seconds while you run to the freezer.”
Happy didn’t look like he agreed, but he did as his boss and friend requested.
“You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it, Mr. Stark,” Peter rushed to assure the billionaire. Tony looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t do things if I don’t believe in it, kid. The ice cream is good, and I want to eat the rest of it.”
Tony reached into the bag again before Peter could apologize again, and he pulled out the shirt, unfolding and turning it around to get a better look at it. The billionaire squinted at the picture on the front, but after a few seconds he figured it out. Peter wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a smile and a laugh were definitely not it.
“That’s good,” Tony stated, turning the shirt around to face out. The graph depicting the similarities between a rabbit and duck stared at Peter. The teenager looked at the older man with slight disbelief in his eyes.
“You … you like it?”
“Kid, remember what I said literally twenty seconds ago about how I don’t say I like things if I really don’t?”
“Ice cream is put away,” Happy announced as he came back into the room.
“Happy, here. Hold this.” Tony handed over the frame that he was still holding, making sure to keep it facing away from Peter. “And this.” Tony stripped his suit jacket off. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt underneath, and Tony just slipped the new shirt on over his old one. “Coat?”
Happy handed back Tony’s jacket, which the billionaire slipped back into. “And frame.” Tony held out his hand and accepted the frame from Happy. Peter couldn’t stop staring at the shirt, surprised at how much Tony seemed to actually enjoy it.
“Mr. Parker. I figured it was about time we make your internship here official, wouldn’t you say?”
Peter wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but everything was cleared up when Tony turned the frame around and revealed a certificate inside. Stark handed it over to the teenager.
“‘In appreciation for your successful work with the Stark Industries Internship Program Peter Parker Has shown exemplary work Performance in the Science and Technology division,’” Peter read out loud. He looked back up at Tony.
“Meant every word,” Tony said.
“Mr. Stark, I … I don’t know what to say,” Peter muttered, staring down at the sheet in awe.
“Maybe try saying ‘cheese,’” Tony suggested. Peter looked up and saw Happy standing there with Mr. Stark’s phone, ready to take a picture. Tony was putting his arm around Peter’s shoulder, and for a minute, Peter wondered if Mr. Stark was giving him a hug, but the arm stopped right between Peter’s shoulders, which the teenager thought was an odd place. Something brushed the back of his head, and Peter glanced up, slightly shocked to see Tony giving him bunny ears. Impulsively, Peter stuck up his own hand, giving the billionaire his own set of extra ears right as the picture was snapped.
Happy handed the phone back to Tony, who looked at the picture.
“Oh,” Peter said as he noticed something. “The frame is upside down.”
“You wanna retake it?” Happy asked, trying his best not to sound impatient.
“No, leave it,” Tony said. “This is great.” He smirked at the screen, the sniffed. “Right. Well, I wish I could stay and chat longer, but Pepper’s got something special planned for tonight. Hap, you good to drive the kid back?”
Happy didn’t seem too thrilled to be leaving again so soon, but he didn’t say anything. He and Peter began making their way towards the exit, but Peter turned back around.
“Mr. Stark?”
The billionaire, who had begun walking in the opposite direction, also turned around.
“Thank you, so much for this. Have a happy birthday!”
Tony smiled, a truly genuine smile. “Of course, kid. You earned it. And hey.” The billionaire gestured to his new shirt. “Thank you.”
This is a tag to 3x04 in the new season of Daredevil, so read ahead at your own risk! Also, if you have a fear/phobia/anxiety about water and/or drowning, this may not be the story for you.
Matt felt himself slowly coming out of the drug-induced sleep he’d fallen into. He was still in the cab; the smell of worn polyester clawed through his nose and helped clear his sinuses slightly, but something felt off. They were passing the objects outside the car at an alarming rate.
“Wherearewe?” His words slurred together, his body still trying rid itself of the drugs in his system. He tried to sit up, but movement meant pain. “Where, uh …” Something wasn’t right. The cab was moving fast, and Matt could smell something salty outside his window. “Hey,” he said, pushing himself further up on the seat, his slightly panicked state giving him adrenaline, which made it easy to push past the stiff and sore muscles. “Hey, hold up, stop the car,” he requested.
“No problem. We’ll get you home.”
As soon as the driver spoke, the feeling that something was wrong cemented in Matt’s core. It was a different driver. Matt sat forward.
“Who are you?”
The driver didn’t answer. Instead, there was a click as the door opened, and the salty smell Matt had sensed before was multiplied exponentially. Then the man was moving, his heart rate spiking as he prepared, and then launched himself out of the moving vehicle. Matt’s sightless eyes widened in shock.
“Hey! Hey!” Matt frantically shoved his hands to the side as he felt for the doors of the cab. Both were locked. Matt could hear the ticking of the meter, still running as if they were still planning on charging him for this ride through Hell. “No, no, no!” The panic in Matt’s chest was building, threatening to crush his lungs. “No,” he continued saying as he tried the doors again. Yanking on them did absolutely nothing, and Matt realized he was out of time. His sightless eyes sought out the front of the cab, his senses going haywire as the speeding car brought him closer and closer to the rail, the only thing separating the car from the water.
With one last desperate attempt, Matt got on his back and tried kicking at one of the doors to try and get it open, but before he could get in more than one kick, it was over. The cab slammed into the guard rail, and was suddenly soaring freely through the air. For a second or two, anyway. Then it crashed down into the water.
Matt heard the windshield crack and shatter on impact. Glass was flying through the air towards the back of the cab, but those shards were the least of his problems. The cab was taking on water, and fast. Matt could already feel his shoes slowly filling with the salty liquid. He forced himself to take in one deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Escaping would be impossible if he began panicking. If there was one thing Matt hated, it was being underwater. Half of his senses didn’t work, and the others were distorted at best.
Panic was bad, but fear? Fear is good. Fear is an excellent motivator, as long as you make sure it doesn’t control you, and that’s exactly what Matt had learned how to do. So once he took in one deep breath, he used that fear and focused on getting the cab door open. Once again on his back, he began kicking. Over and over and over again he pounded his feet against the door, and finally felt it budge. Unfortunately his relief at that was quickly replaced by the fear as he felt the water brush his chin. The submerged cab had sunk almost completely, and Matt had only begun to get his escape plan to work in his favor. There was limited air left, and the blind man knew that his time was up. It was now or never.
Pressing his cheek against the roof to give himself as much space as he could, Matt sucked in a deep breath as the water slowly creeped higher and higher. Then, he was submerged. The panic he’d been holding back threatened to claw its way out of his chest as he held his breath, but he managed to get ahold of himself and get back to work. Knowing it was next to impossible to build up the momentum he needed to get the door open underwater threatened to break the feeble dam holding back Matt’s panic, but he somehow managed to keep it together.
He could feel the pressure getting tighter as the car sunk lower into the bay. The body of water wasn’t that deep, but for Matt, whose senses were heightened to an almost-superhuman amount, it wasn’t that difficult to feel it building.
The door was already slightly busted, and Matt knew it would only take one more good ramming to get it to open. The only question was how to build up the momentum under water. The liquid threw off Matt’s perception, but he was able to throw his hands around until he connected with a headrest, along with a seatbelt in the back seat with him. Using those two objects as solid anchors, Matt once again drew his legs back and kicked, frustrated with how slowly he moved.
The pressure behind his eyes was building, the feeling one gets moments before passing out. He couldn’t do this for much longer; he needed air soon. Tiny air bubbles escaped from his nose and mouth every time he kicked, each movement causing him to lose a bit of the precious oxygen. Finally, just when he felt the last of his air escape, the cab door swung open. With a push, Matt managed to get himself out of the still-sinking vehicle and swam for what he hoped was the surface. Thankfully, the further he swam, the less his chest ached from the pressure. His oxygen supply was depleted, but Matt knew that if he could hold on for just another few seconds …
His head broke the surface of the water, and he coughed out the liquid that had entered his mouth and was trying to make its way to his lungs. It took a moment for his brain to process that he was breathing again, but once he realized it, Matt gulped in breath after breath of the precious, much-needed, stale, salty air.
He could hear traffic in the distance, and he used that to help guide himself back to shore. It was slow going, thanks to the drug Fisk had him injected with, along with the barrage of injuries he’d sustained during the riot, but finally his hand brushed against the wooden pier. He dragged himself out of the water, and hoisted himself up onto the dock, where he rolled onto his back and just laid there for a few minutes, trying to calm his breathing, along with his racing heart.
After a moment, Matt rolled to the side, despite his body’s desperate pleas to stay put. He could taste and smell the coppery tang of his blood as he moved, opening up cuts that had temporarily stopped bleeding, and he could hear the liquid running through the fibers on his shirt. He was glad it was dark. This was definitely not a good look to be wearing around town if you wanted to go unnoticed.
Get off the streets, Matt’s mind blustered at him. Get somewhere safe.
There was only one place in Matt’s mind. The only place he could think of that meant safety. Something the fake cabbie had said right before he bailed from the doomed cab.
The voice sounded distant to Matt, echoey, like whoever was speaking was down a tunnel. He knew that wasn’t true though, because he heard her heartbeat close by, and he felt the added weight by his legs. He tried to move, roll over, sit up, anything, but every movement made him hurt. With a soft moan, he gave up and let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness claim him again.
The next time he woke, it was someone different in the room with him. She smelled different; like lavender and vanilla, and her heart rate was slightly more elevated than the previous woman.
“You’re alright,” she whispered. Her hand moved and grabbed a rag, dipping it into a bowl of water. She squeezed the excess liquid out, and each drop that fell back into the bowl sounded like a piece of glass shattering in Matt’s ears. Finally she brought the rag over and gently dabbed Matt’s chest. As soon as the liquid touched his bruised and broken skin, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips before Matt could stop it.
“I’m sorry,” the woman muttered, but she didn’t stop. “We need to keep these wounds clean. You were in bad shape when you were brought in. Blood loss, broken bones, a fever–”
“Who are you?” Matt interrupted. He had the strangest feeling that he knew the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He figured it was because all the pain his body was experiencing, but still. There was something about this woman that was sitting funny with him.
There was a pause before the woman answered. “I’m … Sister Margaret,” she finally answered. The pitch of her voice alerted Matt that something was off, but she wasn’t lying. She was Sister Margaret. “You’re at the Lady of Grace convent. You’re safe.”
Matt almost laughed that once again, he’d somehow ended up being taken care of by nuns. “What happened?” His head was pounding, and Matt could feel himself slipping back into dreamworld, but he fought against it as hard as he could. Something was off, and he needed to know what was going on. Words tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out in a jumbled heap, one word barely legible from the next.
Sister Margaret picked up another washcloth, dipping it in the water as well. The droplets hitting the water weren’t as loud this time, which Matt was grateful for, and the cool water felt nice when she laid the cloth on his forehead. “Shhh, just rest. Everything will be explained soon.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Matt could hear her perfectly. In his bleary state, he could at least remain grateful that his other senses, while seeming to be on the fritz slightly, were still functioning as normal as could be expected.
“Foggy. Karen. Claire.” Matt was struggling to stay conscious. “I need to … need to get ahold of them. They don’t … I … They don’t know where I am.” Suddenly another person’s face popped into his mind. “Elektra?”
A second hand gently cupped the side of Matt’s face, and he flinched slightly.
“You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” The woman’s thumb moved back and forth across Matt’s cheek. He didn’t know why, but the touch felt … right. Familiar. It was the last coherent thought he had before he once again slipped back into the arms of sleep.
The next time he woke up, he felt more awake, though he still felt like he’d been through a meat grinder. Thankfully, he was alone in the room, and he didn’t have to worry about pretending not to know his surroundings. There was a table to his left, with a string of rosary beads on it, along with a cross hung up on the wall above his bed. Aside from those few things, there was one small chair in the corner of the room he was in, but that was it. The rest of the room was barren.
Slowly, Matt began sitting up. His whole body was sore, and he made a mental note that getting three-hundred feet of building debris dropped on himself was one of the more unpleasant things he’d been through. Not that he’d expected to survive.
As much as he wanted to move faster, his body would physically fight him whenever he tried. He gradually brought his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands on the bed, bracing himself so he remained upright.
The woman before had told him what injuries he had, but Matt took a mental stock of himself anyway. He could feel each and every cut and bruise on his body, each stinging and pulsing. He also counted three broken ribs, along with two cracked ones. Every inch of his body felt like it had been raked over by a claw, and his heightened senses just made the feeling ten times more prominent.
As he stood up, his head began pounding, and he had to stick his hand out and place it against the wall to combat the dizziness and nausea that assaulted him.
Add concussion to that list, he thought to himself. Once the dizzy feeling passed, he started shuffling around the room, too sore to even pick up his feet fully off the ground. He made his way over to the door, but as he reached for the handle, he picked up on footsteps coming his way. The soft scent of vanilla mixed with lavender washed over him, and he knew it was the woman from the last time he woke up, Sister Margaret, coming down the hallway. He took a few steps backwards as the woman neared the door.
When the door swung open, Matt got his first clear image of her, not that it was detailed. She was average height, wearing a nun’s habit, and judging by her heart rate and the way her bones creaked slightly, he guessed she was probably in her mid-to-late fifties. He really had no idea what she looked like, but that didn’t matter to him. By the way she held herself, Matt could tell she was reserved, and he would even go so far to say nervous as she entered.
She let out a small exclamation of surprise when she saw her patient standing by the doorway.
“You startled me,” she said, walking in further. She had a tray of food, and Matt couldn’t help the rumble his stomach released when he smelled the broccoli and cheese soup, paired with the warm roll. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d eaten was.
“Sorry,” Matt said softly.
“Here,” the woman said, setting down the tray of food on the table and walking over to her ward. When she gently grabbed Matt’s elbow, he once again had the strangest feeling that he knew whoever this lady was. It was maddening that he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. He was usually much better at remembering things like that. He knew for sure that she wasn’t one of the nuns from the orphanage, but other than that, he had no idea where he could possibly know her from. She helped guide him back to bed, walking slowly with him to make sure he didn’t topple over.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised lightly.
“Needed to stretch my legs.” They reached the bed and she helped Matt sit down, even though he knew exactly where he was.
“Well, you really should be careful. Here, sit back.” She eased Matt back into the bed so that his back was against the backboard, sitting upright. Matt heard the light padding of her footsteps as she retrieved the tray of food from where she’d set it, and there was sudden pressure on the mattress to the side of his legs. “Don’t move your legs,” she cautioned. “I’ve got this tray of food, and we wouldn’t want it spilling everywhere.” She grabbed his hand and placed a spoon in it, then closed his fist around the utensil.
“Hey, uh, Sister Margaret, right?”
The woman sat back in surprise. “How could you tell?”
“It’s uh, your voice. I’ve got a good memory for voices.”
Sister Margaret inclined her head. “Well, that’s me. What do you need?”
“Listen, I was wondering. Is there a phone I can borrow?”
With that question, Sister Margaret shifted away from the blind man slightly. It wasn’t a response Matt was expecting, and his face scrunched up in confusion slightly.
“I’m sorry. Our electricity has been on the fritz ever since that quake, and I don’t think our landline is back up yet.”
Matt didn’t even have to listen to her heart to know that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. He once again had the feeling that Sister Margaret was hiding something, but he decided not to force the topic for the moment.
“What happened? To me?”
“You were found, trapped under a mound of rubble. The debris you were caught under formed a pocket around you. It’s the only reason you’re alive.”
“Was … was anyone else, uh, found?”
“No, I’m sorry. Was there someone else down there with you?”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” Matt didn’t answer the question about whether he was alone or not.
“Well … the people that found you, uh … said you were very insistent about not going to one.”
“I was awake?” Suddenly Matt realized what must have happened, what they must have seen. “You … do you know … about me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? Depends on what?” Matt’s heart was racing.
“On if you’re going to kill anyone who knows your secret.”
Matt choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment. “No,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Alright, then yes. We know who you are.”
Matt let out a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. “How many people know?”
“Just us sisters here. The people who pulled you from the rubble left your mask on.”
Matt groaned again.
“Your secret is safe with us, I promise. Don’t worry, Matthew. No one else will know.”
Matt’s head swiveled sharply towards the sister’s voice. “How did you know my name?”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, which most people wouldn’t have caught. Matt Murdock was not ‘most people’ though, and he definitely heard the pause. More than that, he heard the lie building in the pause.
“I told you, we know who you are.”
“You said you knew who the other guy was. You never said anything about knowing my name.”
“You woke up momentarily when you were first brought in. There wasn’t much that we could make out, but we did hear the name Matthew, and I figured I would take an educated guess.”
Matt almost called the sister out on that blatant lie, but she stood up and made her way towards the door, and Matt had another question he needed answered before she left.
“How long have I been here?”
She paused and looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “You were found and brought here just under a week ago.”
“A week?” Matt asked incredulously, trying to sit up further. Sister Margaret anticipated such an act though and had already moved back to her patient, placing her gentle but firm hands on his shoulders to keep him in the bed.
“Stay down, Matthew. You’re not well enough to be up and about yet.”
“I can’t stay here,” Matt muttered. He tried to move his legs, but the tray set above him rattled with the plate on it, and he stopped himself before he knocked everything over.
“Well you can’t leave yet, that’s for certain,” Sister Margaret said evenly, keeping her hands in place. They stayed there until Matt finally stilled enough for the nun to feel comfortable letting him go.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but please. Eat your soup, try to get some rest. It’s the best thing for your health right now.”
Matt didn’t want to eat, but the sister stayed there, and he could her expectancy was practically tangible, so finally with a soft huff, he picked up the spoon and placed it in the soup before him. He didn’t eat right away though; instead, he swirled the utensil around for another minute.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Matthew?” Sister Margaret began. She paused, waiting for Matt’s signal to continue, which he gave with a nod of his head. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask anyway.
“Your eyes … they’re non responsive, which leads me to believe you really are blind, but …”
“But how can a blind man do everything you’ve seen the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen do?” Matt finished. Sister Margaret nodded, then remembered her patient’s disability.
“I’m sorry, yes. That is my question.”
Matt let out a long sigh. He didn’t like explaining exactly what his powers were, especially since people didn’t believe him at first. Either that, or they got upset. “It’s … it’s complicated. And something I’d rather keep to myself for the moment,” he added. “I’m sorry Sister, I just—“
“There are some things that you need to keep for yourself. I understand that.”
That was the first time she had been completely honest with him. That made Matt think that she knew firsthand what she was talking about. Still, there was something more there that he could sense in her voice. Longing curiosity, maybe? Or was it something deeper than that? The two of them sat there in silence for another moment before Sister Margaret patted his knee gently. She stood up and made her way towards the door, where she turned around one last time.
“I’ll be back in a little while to pick up the dishes. Take as long as you need to eat, but just remember: you need your rest. Your body’s been through an awful ordeal, and the best thing for it right now is sleep.”
Matt nodded contritely, and he did stay in bed. He even took a few bites of soup, which actually helped him feel much better. But that only lasted until he heard the nun turn the corner at the end of the hall. That was when he pushed the food tray past his legs and once again slowly sat up. His head swam with the effort it took to accomplish even that small task, and Matt realized if he was going to be able to do anything, he’d actually need to finish whatever food the sister had brought him.
With a sigh, he reached out and grabbed the bowl of soup, lifting it up and bringing it over to him. The clanking of the spook against the bowl was louder than it should have been as Matt’s hand shook under the weight of the bowl. For a moment, Matt fought the urge to throw the dish in frustration. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time. Not since he’d first lost his sight. Sure, there had been other times when he’d felt helpless, but he’d had other things going for him then. His full strength, his heightened senses, and … and friends. Now? Now he didn’t have any of those. He felt as weak as a child. His senses, while they were still heightened, seemed to be on the fritz, one minute too attentive for him to concentrate on, the next minute making him feel like just another blind schmuck who didn’t have super powers. As for friends …
Matt had pushed everyone in his life away. Foggy, Claire. Karen. At the thought of the blonde woman, Matt’s heart skipped a beat. No matter how much he tried to push thoughts of her away, it never worked. Even remembering how harsh she sounded, her cold words when he asked her to come with him to the precinct couldn’t make the feelings for her go away.
Matt’s hands shook as he raised the bowl of soup to his lips and drank the liquid down, chewing the broccoli and carrot chunks as he reached them. Eventually his hands stopped shaking as bad, and he reached out for the roll he’d also smelled. It was warm and soft, clearly homemade, and was gone within about three bites.
Once his food was eaten, Matt decided to try and stand. He was still sore, but with the food in his system, he wasn’t as weak as before, and he was able to move around much easier than he had earlier.
He focused on the noises outside the room. For the time being, his senses were agreeing with him, and not bombarding him with information he didn’t need at the moment. He heard several of the nuns in the kitchen on the other side of the convent, preparing meals for the soup kitchen. That was good information, to know that he was near a soup kitchen. It wasn’t what he was looking for though.
He focused even more, tilting his head as he concentrated. He picked up a conversation between a couple of the nuns, and it piqued his interest.
“— he knows?” one of them asked.
“No. At least, I don’t think he does. Poor Maggie though. Do you know how she’s doing?”
There was a soft chorus of negative answers to the sister’s question, and Matt would have kept listening, but suddenly he picked up on something else, another noise that he’d been looking out for. The gentle click of someone picking up a phone off the cradle. Bingo. It was what he’d been waiting for. He carefully moved forward, heading for the door. He needed to find that phone.
He opened the door carefully, keeping an ear out for any sign of someone coming his way, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. The sister who was using the phone bid farewell to whomever was on the other end of the line, and Matt focused on the reverberation the machine made when the phone was set back in the cradle. That was what he followed as he slowly made his way down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his tender ribs and midsection, while his other hand was placed against the wall as a support.
His senses were still slightly muddled, but his perception was good enough that he could avoid any objects in his way with relative ease. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he finally discovered it. It was sitting on a small table near the end of one of the halls, thankfully not too far from his room. Matt picked the phone up off the cradle and dialed a number he knew well, trying to decide whether the feeling in his chest was hope that the person would pick up, or wouldn’t.
“This is Foggy Nelson.”
Crap. It was at that moment Matt realized he’d wanted to get Foggy’s answering machine.
“Hello?” Foggy sounded impatient. “Listen, stop calling me! Take me off your list, or whatever it is that you guys get my number from. I’m sick of scams, ‘winning’ a trip to a hotel where you’ll probably knock me out and steal my kidney, or being told my car’s warranty is going to expire. Guess what, jerks? Joke’s on you, cuz I don’t own a car! So stop. Calling. Me.”
Matt could tell his friend was about to hang up, and for a split second Matt couldn’t decide if he wanted to let him or not. Finally though, Matt spoke.
“Foggy?”
Through the phone, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath spike, and he even heard his friend’s heart accelerate.
“Who is this?” Foggy’s voice had taken on a colder, sharper edge.
“Foggy, it’s me.”
“No. No, screw you, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.”
Matt heard a slight hitch in his friend’s voice, indicative of Foggy’s emotions getting the best of him.
“I don’t know who you are, or what made you feel like you needed to do this, but it isn’t funny. If you call again, I will find any loophole I can to make sure you get charged with the maximum amount you can be charged with. Don’t screw with me man. Not about this.”
“Foggy, I swear,—” Suddenly Matt picked up on another heartbeat closeby. “Listen, Foggy, I’ve gotta go, but I promise, I–”
“What are you doing?!” Sister Margaret asked as she hurried over and saw what her patient was up to. She pulled the phone out of his hand and put it back in the cradle, harder than was necessary. The clang as the phone was set down echoed through Matt’s eardrums. “You’re supposed to be in bed, resting!”
“I needed to move around,” Matt argued.
“And you just happened to find the phone?” she accused.
“One that you said didn’t work!”
“Because I knew you would do something stupid like get out of bed if I told you we had one that worked.”
“I have people I need to make sure are safe!”
“And what if you’d fallen down and hurt yourself? What if no one had heard your cries for help?”
“I would have managed.” Matt almost sounded like he was sulking, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which technically, he had.
“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered. “You’re just like Jack.”
Matt started at the mention of his father’s name. “What?”
Sister Margaret didn’t answer his question about his father. Instead, she continued her tirade. “So, what are your plans now then? You’re just going to leave? You’re still injured, Matthew.”
Murdock was still trying to recover from his father’s name drop, and he stuttered over his words momentarily before he finally pushed past the shock. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got people out there, people I’ve got to make sure stay safe. If there’s ever anything I can do for you though, you know who I am. You know how to get ahold of me.”
Sister Margaret fumed for a few moments before throwing her hands up in exasperation, an act that wasn’t lost on Matthew, though he didn’t let on that he knew what she was doing. “Alright, you want to leave? Fine. Be my guest. I probably have it coming anyway.”
Matt opened his mouth to ask what her last sentence had meant, but he paused. Pieces of the curious puzzle he’d found himself in when he first woke up were starting to fuzzily fit themselves together, though the picture still wasn’t perfectly clear. He almost didn’t notice when she began moving away, back down the hallway. Her footsteps were forceful and determined, but Matt could also feel a sort of fragileness emanating from her. “Wait,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear. Matt sat there for a moment, his head tilted to one side as he worked through the pieces of information he had at his disposal.
Suddenly, everything clicked. Why her touch felt so familiar, but he was sure he’d never interacted with her before, the strange lies she’d told, and now some of the other things she’d said were confusing to Matt … He had a feeling he knew why this woman, this nun seemed so familiar, and the idea made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.
He took a few halting steps down the hallway after her, but he could hear her getting further away, and his limping wasn’t fast enough to catch him up with her in time. He needed to know the truth now, so he just called out again, louder this time, “Wait!”
Thankfully she paused, which gave Matt a little time to get closer to her. He stopped about ten feet away. She had her back to him, and Matt could feel her tension. With his head tilted to one side, Matt opened his mouth. He could taste the word on his tongue, but the thought of saying it scared him. Not just scared him. It terrified him. He closed his lips, trapping the word inside before it was unleashed on the world, never to be taken back. Once it was spoken, there was going to be an answer, and he wasn’t sure what his reaction to any answer would be.
He berated himself silently. He’d faced Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, a resurrected Nobu, and the entirety of the Hand without freezing. Why was this so hard? He could hear Sister Margaret’s heart beating slightly faster, but she didn’t move or say anything. Finally, Matt opened his mouth again.
“… Mom?”
The woman in front of him hesitated for just a moment before she slowly turned around. Her hands were clasped together and she began wringing them gently as she replied. “Hello, Matthew.”
“Elektra. You’re alive.” It wasn’t a question. When the nuns had told him no one else had been found in the wreckage with him, Matt assumed she’d either escaped or had come back from the dead again.
“What was that I just said about making a sound?”
“I’m not trying to attract any attention to us.” Matt focused; he could hear the soft breathing of at least six other people in the apartment as well; all ninjas, all armed. He could taste their metal katanas through the sheaths. He knew starting a fight with this many ninjas around could prove fatal; he had to time his attack just right.
“I guess you’re right. You never were one for following the rules anyway. Ironic, considering your choice of profession. Day time profession, anyway.”
“How did you survive?”
“No thanks to you, that’s for sure.”
“You know if there had been another way out I would have taken it.”
“There were several ways out, Matthew. You just didn’t want to see them. Oops, sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“I wasn’t going to let you continue your reign of terror on the city.”
“This city is sick, Matthew.”
“And death and destruction is the only cure?”
“See, you pick up quickly.” Elektra was clearly trying to get a rise out of Matt, but the lawyer took in a deep breath, refusing to take her bait. A sigh forced its way through her lips when Matt refused to play along. “Come on, Matthew.”
“How did you find me?”
“Mmm. It wasn’t all that hard. All I had to do was have Franklin followed around until something happened. I knew you’d reach out to him or your other girl, it was just a matter of deciding which one was more likely. By the time my scout got back to me though, they’d already picked you up from the convent. I had to be very … persuasive for the nuns to even admit that you’d been there.”
Matt hated the implication of her last sentence, but he pushed his disgusted feeling down. He had several questions burning the tip of his tongue, and thankfully he figured how to put them together into one. “Why take Sister Margaret if you knew where I was all along? If you were wanting to lure me out, why not just wait for me to come?”
“Oh please, Matthew. We both know who she is, you can just call her Mum.”
Ice coated Matt’s organs. “I don’t … what …”
“Oh come on, Matthew. I’ve known for a while now.”
“How?”
“Stick told me.”
Even after everything that old man had done, Matt still felt the shock and surprise at finding out that Stick knew who his mother was. Not only that, but the fact that he’d told Elektra.
“He was worried if you knew who she was, you’d lose focus of what was important.”
“I was never one of his soldiers,” Matt spat. Elektra’s blades pressed ever so harder against his neck, drawing the thinnest line of blood before she removed the blades completely.
“I don’t care about Stick, or his reasons for not telling you. The fact is you know now. And that is why you’re going to come with me.”
Matt scoffed as he rubbed at his neck, shaking the few drops of blood off his hand. “Am I?”
“Well, I would hope so. Because even if Mummy couldn’t get you to come out and play, I would think the fact that I’ve got your two friends might encourage you to come.”
The ice coating Matt’s insides melted as fire flowed through him. All thoughts of his own pain aside, the blind man surged to his feet, and he grabbed ahold of Elektra’s wrists. He whirled around , placing the tip of one of her sais against her throat, using her as a human shield against the other ninjas in the room.
“Tell your guys to back down,” Matt panted. His ribs were screaming, and his head began pounding, but he just took that pain, focused it, used it to fuel his movements.
Elektra let out a chuckle. Her throat bobbed against the blade as she did so, teasing the skin underneath the sharp point. “Now, now, Matthew. You should know me better than this. There are orders in place—orders to kill your friends if I’m not back soon.”
“Why?” Matt growled, not relinquishing her wrists just yet.
“Uh … to see that I don’t get killed while I’m gone?”
“No, I — why are you doing this? Taking my friends, Sister Margaret? You could have just left. No one would have known any different.”
“Don’t you remember, Matthew? I told you before. You belong by my side.”
“So … so what, I come with you, and you let them live? You let them go?”
“As long as you don’t fight me, yes. They will all be fine.” There was silence for a moment. When Matt didn’t immediately agree, Elektra prodded. “What do you say, Matthew?” she purred, relaxing even more in his grip. “Wanna take a trip?”
Matt’s jaw was sore from clenching so hard, but after a few moments, Matt finally shoved Elektra away from him.
He heard the sharp needle before it was even uncapped. He caught the hand descending towards him, but he wasn’t able to stop the second one that came at him without letting go of the first ninja.
The second needle stabbed into his neck, and Matt let out a sharp hiss of pain. The first ninja backed off unexpectedly, leaving Matt reeling from the sudden lack of pressure.
The liquid in Matt’s bloodstream started out hot, then turned icy cold. And it didn’t just freeze his blood. Matt tried to move his limbs, but found that they were non-responsive. Once he realized that, it was like his body realized it too. His knees buckled under him and he collapsed, the pressure behind his eyes building and letting him know that unconsciousness was just a blink or two away.
The world on fire dimmed to embers, and the last thing Matt sensed was Elektra above him, crouching down and stroking his hair.
“Just to make things a little easier, Matthew,” she whispered. “I promise. Everything will be so much better when you wake up.”
The voice sounded distant to Matt, echoey, like whoever was speaking was down a tunnel. He knew that wasn’t true though, because he heard her heartbeat close by, and he felt the added weight by his legs. He tried to move, roll over, sit up, anything, but every movement made him hurt. With a soft moan, he gave up and let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness claim him again.
The next time he woke, it was someone different in the room with him. She smelled different; like lavender and vanilla, and her heart rate was slightly more elevated than the previous woman.
“You’re alright,” she whispered. Her hand moved and grabbed a rag, dipping it into a bowl of water. She squeezed the excess liquid out, and each drop that fell back into the bowl sounded like a piece of glass shattering in Matt’s ears. Finally she brought the rag over and gently dabbed Matt’s chest. As soon as the liquid touched his bruised and broken skin, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips before Matt could stop it.
“I’m sorry,” the woman muttered, but she didn’t stop. “We need to keep these wounds clean. You were in bad shape when you were brought in. Blood loss, broken bones, a fever–”
“Who are you?” Matt interrupted. He had the strangest feeling that he knew the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He figured it was because all the pain his body was experiencing, but still. There was something about this woman that was sitting funny with him.
There was a pause before the woman answered. “I’m … Sister Margaret,” she finally answered. The pitch of her voice alerted Matt that something was off, but she wasn’t lying. She was Sister Margaret. “You’re at the Lady of Grace convent. You’re safe.”
Matt almost laughed that once again, he’d somehow ended up being taken care of by nuns. “What happened?” His head was pounding, and Matt could feel himself slipping back into dreamworld, but he fought against it as hard as he could. Something was off, and he needed to know what was going on. Words tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out in a jumbled heap, one word barely legible from the next.
Sister Margaret picked up another washcloth, dipping it in the water as well. The droplets hitting the water weren’t as loud this time, which Matt was grateful for, and the cool water felt nice when she laid the cloth on his forehead. “Shhh, just rest. Everything will be explained soon.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Matt could hear her perfectly. In his bleary state, he could at least remain grateful that his other senses, while seeming to be on the fritz slightly, were still functioning as normal as could be expected.
“Foggy. Karen. Claire.” Matt was struggling to stay conscious. “I need to … need to get ahold of them. They don’t … I … They don’t know where I am.” Suddenly another person’s face popped into his mind. “Elektra?”
A second hand gently cupped the side of Matt’s face, and he flinched slightly.
“You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” The woman’s thumb moved back and forth across Matt’s cheek. He didn’t know why, but the touch felt … right. Familiar. It was the last coherent thought he had before he once again slipped back into the arms of sleep.
The next time he woke up, he felt more awake, though he still felt like he’d been through a meat grinder. Thankfully, he was alone in the room, and he didn’t have to worry about pretending not to know his surroundings. There was a table to his left, with a string of rosary beads on it, along with a cross hung up on the wall above his bed. Aside from those few things, there was one small chair in the corner of the room he was in, but that was it. The rest of the room was barren.
Slowly, Matt began sitting up. His whole body was sore, and he made a mental note that getting three-hundred feet of building debris dropped on himself was one of the more unpleasant things he’d been through. Not that he’d expected to survive.
As much as he wanted to move faster, his body would physically fight him whenever he tried. He gradually brought his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands on the bed, bracing himself so he remained upright.
The woman before had told him what injuries he had, but Matt took a mental stock of himself anyway. He could feel each and every cut and bruise on his body, each stinging and pulsing. He also counted three broken ribs, along with two cracked ones. Every inch of his body felt like it had been raked over by a claw, and his heightened senses just made the feeling ten times more prominent.
As he stood up, his head began pounding, and he had to stick his hand out and place it against the wall to combat the dizziness and nausea that assaulted him.
Add concussion to that list, he thought to himself. Once the dizzy feeling passed, he started shuffling around the room, too sore to even pick up his feet fully off the ground. He made his way over to the door, but as he reached for the handle, he picked up on footsteps coming his way. The soft scent of vanilla mixed with lavender washed over him, and he knew it was the woman from the last time he woke up, Sister Margaret, coming down the hallway. He took a few steps backwards as the woman neared the door.
When the door swung open, Matt got his first clear image of her, not that it was detailed. She was average height, wearing a nun’s habit, and judging by her heart rate and the way her bones creaked slightly, he guessed she was probably in her mid-to-late fifties. He really had no idea what she looked like, but that didn’t matter to him. By the way she held herself, Matt could tell she was reserved, and he would even go so far to say nervous as she entered.
She let out a small exclamation of surprise when she saw her patient standing by the doorway.
“You startled me,” she said, walking in further. She had a tray of food, and Matt couldn’t help the rumble his stomach released when he smelled the broccoli and cheese soup, paired with the warm roll. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d eaten was.
“Sorry,” Matt said softly.
“Here,” the woman said, setting down the tray of food on the table and walking over to her ward. When she gently grabbed Matt’s elbow, he once again had the strangest feeling that he knew whoever this lady was. It was maddening that he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. He was usually much better at remembering things like that. He knew for sure that she wasn’t one of the nuns from the orphanage, but other than that, he had no idea where he could possibly know her from. She helped guide him back to bed, walking slowly with him to make sure he didn’t topple over.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised lightly.
“Needed to stretch my legs.” They reached the bed and she helped Matt sit down, even though he knew exactly where he was.
“Well, you really should be careful. Here, sit back.” She eased Matt back into the bed so that his back was against the backboard, sitting upright. Matt heard the light padding of her footsteps as she retrieved the tray of food from where she’d set it, and there was sudden pressure on the mattress to the side of his legs. “Don’t move your legs,” she cautioned. “I’ve got this tray of food, and we wouldn’t want it spilling everywhere.” She grabbed his hand and placed a spoon in it, then closed his fist around the utensil.
“Hey, uh, Sister Margaret, right?”
The woman sat back in surprise. “How could you tell?”
“It’s uh, your voice. I’ve got a good memory for voices.”
Sister Margaret inclined her head. “Well, that’s me. What do you need?”
“Listen, I was wondering. Is there a phone I can borrow?”
With that question, Sister Margaret shifted away from the blind man slightly. It wasn’t a response Matt was expecting, and his face scrunched up in confusion slightly.
“I’m sorry. Our electricity has been on the fritz ever since that quake, and I don’t think our landline is back up yet.”
Matt didn’t even have to listen to her heart to know that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. He once again had the feeling that Sister Margaret was hiding something, but he decided not to force the topic for the moment.
“What happened? To me?”
“You were found, trapped under a mound of rubble. The debris you were caught under formed a pocket around you. It’s the only reason you’re alive.”
“Was … was anyone else, uh, found?”
“No, I’m sorry. Was there someone else down there with you?”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” Matt didn’t answer the question about whether he was alone or not.
“Well … the people that found you, uh … said you were very insistent about not going to one.”
“I was awake?” Suddenly Matt realized what must have happened, what they must have seen. “You … do you know … about me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? Depends on what?” Matt’s heart was racing.
“On if you’re going to kill anyone who knows your secret.”
Matt choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment. “No,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Alright, then yes. We know who you are.”
Matt let out a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. “How many people know?”
“Just us sisters here. The people who pulled you from the rubble left your mask on.”
Matt groaned again.
“Your secret is safe with us, I promise. Don’t worry, Matthew. No one else will know.”
Matt’s head swiveled sharply towards the sister’s voice. “How did you know my name?”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, which most people wouldn’t have caught. Matt Murdock was not ‘most people’ though, and he definitely heard the pause. More than that, he heard the lie building in the pause.
“I told you, we know who you are.”
“You said you knew who the other guy was. You never said anything about knowing my name.”
“You woke up momentarily when you were first brought in. There wasn’t much that we could make out, but we did hear the name Matthew, and I figured I would take an educated guess.”
Matt almost called the sister out on that blatant lie, but she stood up and made her way towards the door, and Matt had another question he needed answered before she left.
“How long have I been here?”
She paused and looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “You were found and brought here just under a week ago.”
“A week?” Matt asked incredulously, trying to sit up further. Sister Margaret anticipated such an act though and had already moved back to her patient, placing her gentle but firm hands on his shoulders to keep him in the bed.
“Stay down, Matthew. You’re not well enough to be up and about yet.”
“I can’t stay here,” Matt muttered. He tried to move his legs, but the tray set above him rattled with the plate on it, and he stopped himself before he knocked everything over.
“Well you can’t leave yet, that’s for certain,” Sister Margaret said evenly, keeping her hands in place. They stayed there until Matt finally stilled enough for the nun to feel comfortable letting him go.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but please. Eat your soup, try to get some rest. It’s the best thing for your health right now.”
Matt didn’t want to eat, but the sister stayed there, and he could her expectancy was practically tangible, so finally with a soft huff, he picked up the spoon and placed it in the soup before him. He didn’t eat right away though; instead, he swirled the utensil around for another minute.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Matthew?” Sister Margaret began. She paused, waiting for Matt’s signal to continue, which he gave with a nod of his head. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask anyway.
“Your eyes … they’re non responsive, which leads me to believe you really are blind, but …”
“But how can a blind man do everything you’ve seen the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen do?” Matt finished. Sister Margaret nodded, then remembered her patient’s disability.
“I’m sorry, yes. That is my question.”
Matt let out a long sigh. He didn’t like explaining exactly what his powers were, especially since people didn’t believe him at first. Either that, or they got upset. “It’s … it’s complicated. And something I’d rather keep to myself for the moment,” he added. “I’m sorry Sister, I just—“
“There are some things that you need to keep for yourself. I understand that.”
That was the first time she had been completely honest with him. That made Matt think that she knew firsthand what she was talking about. Still, there was something more there that he could sense in her voice. Longing curiosity, maybe? Or was it something deeper than that? The two of them sat there in silence for another moment before Sister Margaret patted his knee gently. She stood up and made her way towards the door, where she turned around one last time.
“I’ll be back in a little while to pick up the dishes. Take as long as you need to eat, but just remember: you need your rest. Your body’s been through an awful ordeal, and the best thing for it right now is sleep.”
Matt nodded contritely, and he did stay in bed. He even took a few bites of soup, which actually helped him feel much better. But that only lasted until he heard the nun turn the corner at the end of the hall. That was when he pushed the food tray past his legs and once again slowly sat up. His head swam with the effort it took to accomplish even that small task, and Matt realized if he was going to be able to do anything, he’d actually need to finish whatever food the sister had brought him.
With a sigh, he reached out and grabbed the bowl of soup, lifting it up and bringing it over to him. The clanking of the spook against the bowl was louder than it should have been as Matt’s hand shook under the weight of the bowl. For a moment, Matt fought the urge to throw the dish in frustration. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time. Not since he’d first lost his sight. Sure, there had been other times when he’d felt helpless, but he’d had other things going for him then. His full strength, his heightened senses, and … and friends. Now? Now he didn’t have any of those. He felt as weak as a child. His senses, while they were still heightened, seemed to be on the fritz, one minute too attentive for him to concentrate on, the next minute making him feel like just another blind schmuck who didn’t have super powers. As for friends …
Matt had pushed everyone in his life away. Foggy, Claire. Karen. At the thought of the blonde woman, Matt’s heart skipped a beat. No matter how much he tried to push thoughts of her away, it never worked. Even remembering how harsh she sounded, her cold words when he asked her to come with him to the precinct couldn’t make the feelings for her go away.
Matt’s hands shook as he raised the bowl of soup to his lips and drank the liquid down, chewing the broccoli and carrot chunks as he reached them. Eventually his hands stopped shaking as bad, and he reached out for the roll he’d also smelled. It was warm and soft, clearly homemade, and was gone within about three bites.
Once his food was eaten, Matt decided to try and stand. He was still sore, but with the food in his system, he wasn’t as weak as before, and he was able to move around much easier than he had earlier.
He focused on the noises outside the room. For the time being, his senses were agreeing with him, and not bombarding him with information he didn’t need at the moment. He heard several of the nuns in the kitchen on the other side of the convent, preparing meals for the soup kitchen. That was good information, to know that he was near a soup kitchen. It wasn’t what he was looking for though.
He focused even more, tilting his head as he concentrated. He picked up a conversation between a couple of the nuns, and it piqued his interest.
“— he knows?” one of them asked.
“No. At least, I don’t think he does. Poor Maggie though. Do you know how she’s doing?”
There was a soft chorus of negative answers to the sister’s question, and Matt would have kept listening, but suddenly he picked up on something else, another noise that he’d been looking out for. The gentle click of someone picking up a phone off the cradle. Bingo. It was what he’d been waiting for. He carefully moved forward, heading for the door. He needed to find that phone.
He opened the door carefully, keeping an ear out for any sign of someone coming his way, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. The sister who was using the phone bid farewell to whomever was on the other end of the line, and Matt focused on the reverberation the machine made when the phone was set back in the cradle. That was what he followed as he slowly made his way down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his tender ribs and midsection, while his other hand was placed against the wall as a support.
His senses were still slightly muddled, but his perception was good enough that he could avoid any objects in his way with relative ease. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he finally discovered it. It was sitting on a small table near the end of one of the halls, thankfully not too far from his room. Matt picked the phone up off the cradle and dialed a number he knew well, trying to decide whether the feeling in his chest was hope that the person would pick up, or wouldn’t.
“This is Foggy Nelson.”
Crap. It was at that moment Matt realized he’d wanted to get Foggy’s answering machine.
“Hello?” Foggy sounded impatient. “Listen, stop calling me! Take me off your list, or whatever it is that you guys get my number from. I’m sick of scams, ‘winning’ a trip to a hotel where you’ll probably knock me out and steal my kidney, or being told my car’s warranty is going to expire. Guess what, jerks? Joke’s on you, cuz I don’t own a car! So stop. Calling. Me.”
Matt could tell his friend was about to hang up, and for a split second Matt couldn’t decide if he wanted to let him or not. Finally though, Matt spoke.
“Foggy?”
Through the phone, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath spike, and he even heard his friend’s heart accelerate.
“Who is this?” Foggy’s voice had taken on a colder, sharper edge.
“Foggy, it’s me.”
“No. No, screw you, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.”
Matt heard a slight hitch in his friend’s voice, indicative of Foggy’s emotions getting the best of him.
“I don’t know who you are, or what made you feel like you needed to do this, but it isn’t funny. If you call again, I will find any loophole I can to make sure you get charged with the maximum amount you can be charged with. Don’t screw with me man. Not about this.”
“Foggy, I swear,—” Suddenly Matt picked up on another heartbeat closeby. “Listen, Foggy, I’ve gotta go, but I promise, I–”
“What are you doing?!” Sister Margaret asked as she hurried over and saw what her patient was up to. She pulled the phone out of his hand and put it back in the cradle, harder than was necessary. The clang as the phone was set down echoed through Matt’s eardrums. “You’re supposed to be in bed, resting!”
“I needed to move around,” Matt argued.
“And you just happened to find the phone?” she accused.
“One that you said didn’t work!”
“Because I knew you would do something stupid like get out of bed if I told you we had one that worked.”
“I have people I need to make sure are safe!”
“And what if you’d fallen down and hurt yourself? What if no one had heard your cries for help?”
“I would have managed.” Matt almost sounded like he was sulking, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which technically, he had.
“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered. “You’re just like Jack.”
Matt started at the mention of his father’s name. “What?”
Sister Margaret didn’t answer his question about his father. Instead, she continued her tirade. “So, what are your plans now then? You’re just going to leave? You’re still injured, Matthew.”
Murdock was still trying to recover from his father’s name drop, and he stuttered over his words momentarily before he finally pushed past the shock. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got people out there, people I’ve got to make sure stay safe. If there’s ever anything I can do for you though, you know who I am. You know how to get ahold of me.”
Sister Margaret fumed for a few moments before throwing her hands up in exasperation, an act that wasn’t lost on Matthew, though he didn’t let on that he knew what she was doing. “Alright, you want to leave? Fine. Be my guest. I probably have it coming anyway.”
Matt opened his mouth to ask what her last sentence had meant, but he paused. Pieces of the curious puzzle he’d found himself in when he first woke up were starting to fuzzily fit themselves together, though the picture still wasn’t perfectly clear. He almost didn’t notice when she began moving away, back down the hallway. Her footsteps were forceful and determined, but Matt could also feel a sort of fragileness emanating from her. “Wait,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear. Matt sat there for a moment, his head tilted to one side as he worked through the pieces of information he had at his disposal.
Suddenly, everything clicked. Why her touch felt so familiar, but he was sure he’d never interacted with her before, the strange lies she’d told, and now some of the other things she’d said were confusing to Matt … He had a feeling he knew why this woman, this nun seemed so familiar, and the idea made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.
He took a few halting steps down the hallway after her, but he could hear her getting further away, and his limping wasn’t fast enough to catch him up with her in time. He needed to know the truth now, so he just called out again, louder this time, “Wait!”
Thankfully she paused, which gave Matt a little time to get closer to her. He stopped about ten feet away. She had her back to him, and Matt could feel her tension. With his head tilted to one side, Matt opened his mouth. He could taste the word on his tongue, but the thought of saying it scared him. Not just scared him. It terrified him. He closed his lips, trapping the word inside before it was unleashed on the world, never to be taken back. Once it was spoken, there was going to be an answer, and he wasn’t sure what his reaction to any answer would be.
He berated himself silently. He’d faced Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, a resurrected Nobu, and the entirety of the Hand without freezing. Why was this so hard? He could hear Sister Margaret’s heart beating slightly faster, but she didn’t move or say anything. Finally, Matt opened his mouth again.
“… Mom?”
The woman in front of him hesitated for just a moment before she slowly turned around. Her hands were clasped together and she began wringing them gently as she replied. “Hello, Matthew.”
The conversation drifted through his ears as he began waking up.
“Don’t you think he and that nun were acting a little weird?”
“I … I mean yeah, I did, but is now really the best time to bring it up?”
“Karen, with Matt, we may not get another chance.”
“You do know I can hear you, right?” Matt called out from the couch he was on. Karen had tried to get him to take the bed, but in his ever-present stubbornness, Matt had insisted on crashing on the couch. Foggy and Karen were in the hallway with the door shut, but that wasn’t an obstacle for Matt.
His friends stopped talking. Matt even heard Foggy’s teeth clack together as he shut his mouth. Matt’s jaw ached with sympathy pain. The gentle click of Karen’s shoes across the floor was accompanied by the softer thud of Foggy’s shoes as they made their way back to Karen’s apartment.
“Hey,” Karen greeted as they came in. Foggy shut the door quietly and they made their way over to their friend’s side. “Sorry, we thought you were asleep.”
“I was, but I woke up. Didn’t hear you guys in the apartment and started to worry.”
Foggy let out a strained chuckle. “Hear that? He’s worried about us. Matt Murdock, The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, who just got a building collapsed on him, is worried about us.”
“Keep it down, wouldja?” Matt hissed, even though he could tell that no one in the surrounding apartments had heard Foggy’s proclamation about his extra curricular activities. There were no changes in heart rates, no whispers, nothing. The neighbor two doors down even had the news on so loud that Matt hardly had to concentrate to hear the television set. So his secret was still safe. That didn’t mean that he wanted his friend to go around announcing the fact that he was Daredevil.
“Sorry,” Foggy said. “Listen, Matt, I know it’s a little soon, and you’re still recovering, but … what happened between you and that nun? Sister Margaret, or whatever her name was? We just … think you were acting a little weird.”
Matt let out a sigh. “I know. I heard you guys, remember?”
An awkward silence, then Foggy replied, “Right.”
“Listen, I just … I think I want to keep that one to myself a little longer. I just need to figure out what to do about it.” Before Foggy could ask any more questions, Matt continued. “Wait … what time is it? Shouldn’t you guys be at work?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you here by yourself,” Foggy replied.
“I’m a big boy, I’m sure I can handle being alone for the day while you guys go to work. You don’t want to get in trouble.”
“It wasn’t us we’re was worried about.” The dryness in Karen’s voice made her implications abundantly clear.
Matt attempted to blow off her concern with a short chuckle. “You think I’m gonna go out right now? When I woke up for the first time in a week yesterday?”
“That’s exactly what we think you’re going to do,” Foggy confirmed. For a moment, Matt thought about acting offended, but he knew he’d given his friends every reason to believe that as soon as they turned their backs, he would race off and become Daredevil again.
Matt opened his mouth to assure his friends he’d be good, but the story on the news a few apartments down changed his mind.
“--attack on this convent. If anyone has information, they are asked to come forward. We go now to Jodie Ross at the scene.”
“Thanks Pete. I’m outside Lady of Grace convent right now, where police are still trying to figure out exactly what happened. We know the convent was attacked, but that’s about it at this time. Three of the sisters here have been sent to the hospital, and one sister has been reported as missing.”
“Matt?”
Matt didn’t verbally respond to Foggy’s question. He just waved his hand, signaling for his friend to stop talking.
“Thankfully, there were no casualties in this attack, but two of the nuns sent to the hospital had fairly severe wounds and have lost a substantial amount of blood. They are currently residing in the ICU. Once again, if anyone has any information about this attack, they are encouraged to come to the police, and help us bring Sister Margaret back safely.”
That name sent a jolt through Matt so strong he felt like he’d been hit with jumper cables, and he swore under his breath. Foggy heard the muttered curse, and he stared at his friend.
“Matt, what is going on?”
“The convent,” Matt replied, trying to push himself up.
“Woah,” Karen said, standing in front of him, hands on her hips. “Now you’re not even waiting for us to leave before you go all vigilante?”
“What about the convent?” Foggy asked. “None of us said anything about the convent.”
“News, three doors down. It was attacked. Karen, please. Let me up.”
“Hold on,” Foggy said, coming to stand over by Karen. “What do you mean attacked? By who?”
“They don’t know by who yet, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
Foggy stared expectantly at his friend, waiting for an answer. “Well?” he asked when Matt didn’t say anything. “Are you gonna tell us?”
“It’s safer if you don’t know.”
“Matt.” The warning tone in Foggy’s voice was back. The ‘don’t-push-me-further-than-I’ve-already-been-pushed’ tone. “We’re already involved, you might as well give us the full details so that we can be prepared.
Matt didn’t want to, but his friend had a point. They were already involved. “The Hand,” he finally said.
“Wait, they’re back?” Karen asked, looking towards the door as if she expected the ninjas to come crashing through at the mere mention of their name. Her hand strayed towards her purse, which only Matt noticed. He knew she had a gun in there. The metallic tang was one of the first things he’d tasted when she’d come to get him at the convent. And what surprised him most about the gun was not that she had one, but that he smelled GSR on it. It was old, but undeniable. The gun had been fired sometime in the past.
“Matt?”
The blind man’s head turned towards Foggy.
“How do you know it’s them?” Foggy asked once he had Matt’s attention.
“I just do.”
“Well, even if I wanted to accept that answer, the cops are probably there taking care of things. Daredevil can’t show up in the middle of the day!”
“They got Sister Margaret.”
“Wait, that’s the nun that you were arguing with, right?” Foggy looked at Karen in confusion. “Matt, why does this mean so much to you?”
Foggy knew that protecting people was important to Matt, but the blind man seemed to be especially angsty about this particular case.
“I … it’s more than … they saved my life, Foggy,” Matt said, clearly failing in his attempt to hide the truth.
“Right, and I get that. But why do you care so much about Sister Margaret? Didn’t seem like you two got along very well.”
“It’s … complicated.”
“Good thing I’m an awesome lawyer and understand complicated.” Foggy crossed his arms over his chest. Karen was watching them, confusion lining her face. Matt couldn’t see her expression, but he could feel the shift of her muscles as her face formed the lines.
“Foggy, I—“
“Matt. Please. Don’t do this to us again. You aren’t getting rid of us that easily, but that doesn’t mean pissing us off is gonna be any harder.” There was a tense silence as the two men and Karen silently tested each other’s boundaries.
Matt finally sighed. “She isn’t just the nun that saved my life.”
The expectant silence didn’t dissipate, and Matt knew that his friends wouldn’t let him go until he told them.
“Sister Margaret … she’s … she’s my mother.”
The stunned silence was almost worse than the expectant silence. With the expectant silence, it meant that there was still something Matt had to tell them. With the stunned silence though, Matt had nothing left to say, and waiting for their response was like sitting on a chair full of needles.
“Your … your mom?” Karen was the first to break the quiet, and she sounded like she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
“Matt, are you sure?”
Matt couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped his lips, though he didn’t mean it to be condescending. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m sure.”
Foggy’s nails scratched the back of his neck as he thought through things. “And you think they took your mom to get back at you?”
“I mean, why else would they attack the convent?”
“But how would they have known she’s your mother?”
“Maybe they don’t. Maybe they just grabbed the head nun.”
Matt didn’t actually believe that, but he was hoping against hope that that was what happened. By his friends’ silences, Matt could tell they didn’t believe that it was a coincidence either. He couldn’t back down though.
“Foggy, I have to go. She might have abandoned me, but … if I want to get any answers about why she left, she can’t be killed by The Hand.”
“And?” Foggy prodded. He knew that wasn’t the only reason.
Another sigh escaped Matt’s lips. “Because … she’s my mother, Foggy. Are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same?”
Foggy’s eye roll was not lost on Matt, but the blind man decided not to react to it. “Of course I’d do the same thing, Matt,” Foggy finally admitted. Matt opened his mouth to thank Foggy for conceding his point, but the other lawyer didn’t stop there. “But I didn’t just begin recovering after having a building dropped on me!”
“I’m fine!”
“Matt, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Karen interjected softly.
“Karen …”
“No, Matt. Listen. I know this is your mother, and I know you feel like you have to get out there, but you could barely move when we found you. What makes you think that you’re actually going to be able to save your mother and yourself? If The Hand is trying to lure you in, they’re going to be expecting any kind of trap.”
“They’re not going to kill me,” Matt replied confidently.
“How could you possibly know that?” Foggy’s skepticism wasn’t unprecedented. Matt knew he sounded crazy, seeing as how The Hand had tried to kill him countless other times.
“Listen, Foggy. I know none of this makes sense, but you’re just gonna have to trust me.”
“This is The Hand we’re talking about, Matt!”
“Guys!” Karen’s voice cut through their argument like a hot knife. “Listen, Matt. I think you’ve just … you’ve gotta give us a chance to figure things out. You being this honest with us is great, but you haven’t exactly been forthcoming in the past.”
“Exactly,” Foggy agreed.
“Look. If they didn’t kill your mom at the convent, they’re not going to kill her until they get you.”
“But they could be trying … trying to make her talk.” Matt’s voice cracked at the thought of his mother at the mercy of The Hand. He tried to shake himself out of it, internally stating that he’d known the woman less than forty-eight hours. As much as he tried to use that excuse though, he couldn’t stop the feeling of need that drove him. Need to get out and save.
“Matt, I know, and I want to help you save your mom, I do. But can you at least wait until after we get back from work?”
“Wait, work?” Foggy asked. “I thought we said it wasn’t smart to leave him alone.”
“Foggy, if we don’t go into work once, it would be fine. But if we have to consistently stay here, someone is gonna come snooping. Trust me. I work with investigative journalists. If we stop acting normal, people are gonna figure something is up. Matt, listen. Just … wait for us to get back. We can help you. We’ll find her, I promise.”
Matt for sure didn’t want to involve his friends in his fight, but he knew that if he wanted them to leave, he’d have to agree. So, he leaned back in the seat and held up his hands.
Foggy and Karen weren’t dumb though. They knew their friend all too well.
“I’ll have my neighbor check in on you every few minutes.”
“Yes, cuz that’s better than having your employers send people to check things out,” Matt drawled.
“At least this way I can control who’s coming in and out. Besides. If you know they’re coming, maybe you’ll be less likely to run.”
“House arrest, huh?” Matt didn’t mean for the comment to come out as harsh as it did, but he was still frustrated.
“Give us a reason to trust you won’t run then.” That authoritative voice. That was one of the things Matt loved about Karen, but it was also extremely frustrating. At his silence, Karen’s heart rate accelerated slightly in accomplishment.
“Alright, that’s settled. Wait for us, Matt, and we’ll be back later. I’ll come by when I need a break.”
“Same here,” Foggy agreed.
Matt grunted in resignation. His friends took that as their cue to leave, and they spent the next few moments gathering up their things. Finally, they were ready to go.
“Okay um … well, we’ll see you in a little bit, Matt,” Karen said, trying her best not to sound awkward. Trying, and failing. Matt couldn’t help but find it slightly adorable though, if still somewhat irritating.
She and Foggy headed out of her apartment, and in a minute Matt heard a knock on the next door over. Muted voices that Matt barely listened to drifted through the air as Karen did what she promised. Asked her neighbor to check up on her friend, and to call Karen if there were any problems. The neighbor agreed, and after Karen gave the neighbor her number, Matt heard the clicking of Karen’s heels and the heavier thud of Foggy’s footsteps leave the complex. Matt tracked them for a few minutes, making sure that they weren’t attacked on their way to work, but eventually he let them slip into the crowd.
After a few minutes of sitting semi-sullenly on Karen’s couch, Matt’s stomach reminded him that the last thing he’d eaten was the soup and roll from Sister Margaret. Karen wasn’t much of a cook, but there was some bread and sliced meat in the fridge.
The sandwich was made and devoured within minutes, and soon Matt felt the protein and sugars from the food rushing through his blood. He could physically feel his mood lifting, and his thoughts became sharper, more clear. Not that they were muddled previously, but he had a clear vision of what he needed to do now.
His body was still stiff and sore, and moving around fast was still out of the question, which was frustrating, but he tried to push his limits just a little bit.
He was starting to move towards the door when new footsteps vibrated through the floor, and he remembered the neighbor. He bit back a curse as she walked towards Karen’s apartment, and a knock sounded on the door.
“Hello?”
For a moment, Matt thought about not answering, but then remembered that Karen instructed the woman to give her a call if something was up.
“Hello? Are you alright in there?”
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Matt finally called. He shuffled his way over to the door and opened it. “Sorry.”
“Oh!” The surprise in the woman’s voice made it clear to Matt that she wasn’t aware of his permanent injury. “Oh, I’m so … I’m sorry, you must get this all the time, I just …”
“It’s fine,” Matt assured her.
“I, um … well, I promised your friend I would check in on you every little bit, so uh … I’m here!” She gave a small chuckle and a shrug.
“Thank you,” Matt said. “But honestly, Karen is just a little paranoid, that’s all. You really don’t have to keep coming back, I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”
“I mean, not really. Besides, Karen told me you would say that and I shouldn’t listen. And you do seem like you’ve been through … a lot. Do you mind me asking … what happened?”
Her arm swished through the air as she gestured at Matt’s whole body, and he got a feeling she wasn’t asking about the blind guy thing.
“I uh … got hit by a car.” Technically he wasn’t lying. That was what happened—back when he was nine.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m alive.”
“Are you going after the people that hit you?”
He paused for a moment. “I think I am.”
“Good. They shouldn’t be able to get away with this.” There was a slightly awkward pause, then she continued, “Well, I should probably get going, let you get back to resting. I’ll be by in a a little bit to check up on you again.”
“Thank you.”
They both stepped away and Matt closed the door before he made his way back to the couch. His eyes began drooping shut. Karen and Foggy wouldn’t be home for a while, and he figured it would be a good idea to be present for a few more visits from Karen’s neighbor, try to convince her he was fine before he ran off to find The Hand. Until he could leave though, his body was desperately begging him for some rest.
He’d slept too much lately, but he couldn’t deny his body the rest it needed. Not sleep though. From the couch, he lowered himself onto the floor and sat cross legged, shutting out the unnecessary sounds. The cars honking outside. The music coming from the floor below. The couple a few apartments down. Everything he could cut out, he did.
As breathed in deeply, he forced his muscles to relax, and he set his arms on his knees, palms up, thumb and forefinger forming a loose circle. Soon he felt himself becoming more focused. So focused that he almost didn’t hear the gentle click of the window’s lock being turned. He did hear it though, and immediately all of his tension was back as he pushed himself up. Started to push himself up, anyway.
He placed his hands behind him on the couch, intending to get up, but before he could, Matt heard a cold soprano note as something cut through the air. The cool sting of cold metal landed across his throat. Blades, Matt recognized. And not just any blades: double sai blades.
Matt froze, and a familiar voice spoke throatily in front of him, “Make a sound, and we’ll kill everyone on this floor.”
The voice sounded distant to Matt, echoey, like whoever was speaking was down a tunnel. He knew that wasn’t true though, because he heard her heartbeat close by, and he felt the added weight by his legs. He tried to move, roll over, sit up, anything, but every movement made him hurt. With a soft moan, he gave up and let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness claim him again.
The next time he woke, it was someone different in the room with him. She smelled different; like lavender and vanilla, and her heart rate was slightly more elevated than the previous woman.
“You’re alright,” she whispered. Her hand moved and grabbed a rag, dipping it into a bowl of water. She squeezed the excess liquid out, and each drop that fell back into the bowl sounded like a piece of glass shattering in Matt’s ears. Finally she brought the rag over and gently dabbed Matt’s chest. As soon as the liquid touched his bruised and broken skin, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips before Matt could stop it.
“I’m sorry,” the woman muttered, but she didn’t stop. “We need to keep these wounds clean. You were in bad shape when you were brought in. Blood loss, broken bones, a fever–”
“Who are you?” Matt interrupted. He had the strangest feeling that he knew the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He figured it was because all the pain his body was experiencing, but still. There was something about this woman that was sitting funny with him.
There was a pause before the woman answered. “I’m … Sister Margaret,” she finally answered. The pitch of her voice alerted Matt that something was off, but she wasn’t lying. She was Sister Margaret. “You’re at the Lady of Grace convent. You’re safe.”
Matt almost laughed that once again, he’d somehow ended up being taken care of by nuns. “What happened?” His head was pounding, and Matt could feel himself slipping back into dreamworld, but he fought against it as hard as he could. Something was off, and he needed to know what was going on. Words tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out in a jumbled heap, one word barely legible from the next.
Sister Margaret picked up another washcloth, dipping it in the water as well. The droplets hitting the water weren’t as loud this time, which Matt was grateful for, and the cool water felt nice when she laid the cloth on his forehead. “Shhh, just rest. Everything will be explained soon.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Matt could hear her perfectly. In his bleary state, he could at least remain grateful that his other senses, while seeming to be on the fritz slightly, were still functioning as normal as could be expected.
“Foggy. Karen. Claire.” Matt was struggling to stay conscious. “I need to … need to get ahold of them. They don’t … I … They don’t know where I am.” Suddenly another person’s face popped into his mind. “Elektra?”
A second hand gently cupped the side of Matt’s face, and he flinched slightly.
“You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” The woman’s thumb moved back and forth across Matt’s cheek. He didn’t know why, but the touch felt … right. Familiar. It was the last coherent thought he had before he once again slipped back into the arms of sleep.
The next time he woke up, he felt more awake, though he still felt like he’d been through a meat grinder. Thankfully, he was alone in the room, and he didn’t have to worry about pretending not to know his surroundings. There was a table to his left, with a string of rosary beads on it, along with a cross hung up on the wall above his bed. Aside from those few things, there was one small chair in the corner of the room he was in, but that was it. The rest of the room was barren.
Slowly, Matt began sitting up. His whole body was sore, and he made a mental note that getting three-hundred feet of building debris dropped on himself was one of the more unpleasant things he’d been through. Not that he’d expected to survive.
As much as he wanted to move faster, his body would physically fight him whenever he tried. He gradually brought his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands on the bed, bracing himself so he remained upright.
The woman before had told him what injuries he had, but Matt took a mental stock of himself anyway. He could feel each and every cut and bruise on his body, each stinging and pulsing. He also counted three broken ribs, along with two cracked ones. Every inch of his body felt like it had been raked over by a claw, and his heightened senses just made the feeling ten times more prominent.
As he stood up, his head began pounding, and he had to stick his hand out and place it against the wall to combat the dizziness and nausea that assaulted him.
Add concussion to that list, he thought to himself. Once the dizzy feeling passed, he started shuffling around the room, too sore to even pick up his feet fully off the ground. He made his way over to the door, but as he reached for the handle, he picked up on footsteps coming his way. The soft scent of vanilla mixed with lavender washed over him, and he knew it was the woman from the last time he woke up, Sister Margaret, coming down the hallway. He took a few steps backwards as the woman neared the door.
When the door swung open, Matt got his first clear image of her, not that it was detailed. She was average height, wearing a nun’s habit, and judging by her heart rate and the way her bones creaked slightly, he guessed she was probably in her mid-to-late fifties. He really had no idea what she looked like, but that didn’t matter to him. By the way she held herself, Matt could tell she was reserved, and he would even go so far to say nervous as she entered.
She let out a small exclamation of surprise when she saw her patient standing by the doorway.
“You startled me,” she said, walking in further. She had a tray of food, and Matt couldn’t help the rumble his stomach released when he smelled the broccoli and cheese soup, paired with the warm roll. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d eaten was.
“Sorry,” Matt said softly.
“Here,” the woman said, setting down the tray of food on the table and walking over to her ward. When she gently grabbed Matt’s elbow, he once again had the strangest feeling that he knew whoever this lady was. It was maddening that he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. He was usually much better at remembering things like that. He knew for sure that she wasn’t one of the nuns from the orphanage, but other than that, he had no idea where he could possibly know her from. She helped guide him back to bed, walking slowly with him to make sure he didn’t topple over.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised lightly.
“Needed to stretch my legs.” They reached the bed and she helped Matt sit down, even though he knew exactly where he was.
“Well, you really should be careful. Here, sit back.” She eased Matt back into the bed so that his back was against the backboard, sitting upright. Matt heard the light padding of her footsteps as she retrieved the tray of food from where she’d set it, and there was sudden pressure on the mattress to the side of his legs. “Don’t move your legs,” she cautioned. “I’ve got this tray of food, and we wouldn’t want it spilling everywhere.” She grabbed his hand and placed a spoon in it, then closed his fist around the utensil.
“Hey, uh, Sister Margaret, right?”
The woman sat back in surprise. “How could you tell?”
“It’s uh, your voice. I’ve got a good memory for voices.”
Sister Margaret inclined her head. “Well, that’s me. What do you need?”
“Listen, I was wondering. Is there a phone I can borrow?”
With that question, Sister Margaret shifted away from the blind man slightly. It wasn’t a response Matt was expecting, and his face scrunched up in confusion slightly.
“I’m sorry. Our electricity has been on the fritz ever since that quake, and I don’t think our landline is back up yet.”
Matt didn’t even have to listen to her heart to know that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. He once again had the feeling that Sister Margaret was hiding something, but he decided not to force the topic for the moment.
“What happened? To me?”
“You were found, trapped under a mound of rubble. The debris you were caught under formed a pocket around you. It’s the only reason you’re alive.”
“Was … was anyone else, uh, found?”
“No, I’m sorry. Was there someone else down there with you?”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” Matt didn’t answer the question about whether he was alone or not.
“Well … the people that found you, uh … said you were very insistent about not going to one.”
“I was awake?” Suddenly Matt realized what must have happened, what they must have seen. “You … do you know … about me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? Depends on what?” Matt’s heart was racing.
“On if you’re going to kill anyone who knows your secret.”
Matt choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment. “No,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Alright, then yes. We know who you are.”
Matt let out a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. “How many people know?”
“Just us sisters here. The people who pulled you from the rubble left your mask on.”
Matt groaned again.
“Your secret is safe with us, I promise. Don’t worry, Matthew. No one else will know.”
Matt’s head swiveled sharply towards the sister’s voice. “How did you know my name?”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, which most people wouldn’t have caught. Matt Murdock was not ‘most people’ though, and he definitely heard the pause. More than that, he heard the lie building in the pause.
“I told you, we know who you are.”
“You said you knew who the other guy was. You never said anything about knowing my name.”
“You woke up momentarily when you were first brought in. There wasn’t much that we could make out, but we did hear the name Matthew, and I figured I would take an educated guess.”
Matt almost called the sister out on that blatant lie, but she stood up and made her way towards the door, and Matt had another question he needed answered before she left.
“How long have I been here?”
She paused and looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “You were found and brought here just under a week ago.”
“A week?” Matt asked incredulously, trying to sit up further. Sister Margaret anticipated such an act though and had already moved back to her patient, placing her gentle but firm hands on his shoulders to keep him in the bed.
“Stay down, Matthew. You’re not well enough to be up and about yet.”
“I can’t stay here,” Matt muttered. He tried to move his legs, but the tray set above him rattled with the plate on it, and he stopped himself before he knocked everything over.
“Well you can’t leave yet, that’s for certain,” Sister Margaret said evenly, keeping her hands in place. They stayed there until Matt finally stilled enough for the nun to feel comfortable letting him go.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but please. Eat your soup, try to get some rest. It’s the best thing for your health right now.”
Matt didn’t want to eat, but the sister stayed there, and he could her expectancy was practically tangible, so finally with a soft huff, he picked up the spoon and placed it in the soup before him. He didn’t eat right away though; instead, he swirled the utensil around for another minute.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Matthew?” Sister Margaret began. She paused, waiting for Matt’s signal to continue, which he gave with a nod of his head. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask anyway.
“Your eyes … they’re non responsive, which leads me to believe you really are blind, but …”
“But how can a blind man do everything you’ve seen the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen do?” Matt finished. Sister Margaret nodded, then remembered her patient’s disability.
“I’m sorry, yes. That is my question.”
Matt let out a long sigh. He didn’t like explaining exactly what his powers were, especially since people didn’t believe him at first. Either that, or they got upset. “It’s … it’s complicated. And something I’d rather keep to myself for the moment,” he added. “I’m sorry Sister, I just—“
“There are some things that you need to keep for yourself. I understand that.”
That was the first time she had been completely honest with him. That made Matt think that she knew firsthand what she was talking about. Still, there was something more there that he could sense in her voice. Longing curiosity, maybe? Or was it something deeper than that? The two of them sat there in silence for another moment before Sister Margaret patted his knee gently. She stood up and made her way towards the door, where she turned around one last time.
“I’ll be back in a little while to pick up the dishes. Take as long as you need to eat, but just remember: you need your rest. Your body’s been through an awful ordeal, and the best thing for it right now is sleep.”
Matt nodded contritely, and he did stay in bed. He even took a few bites of soup, which actually helped him feel much better. But that only lasted until he heard the nun turn the corner at the end of the hall. That was when he pushed the food tray past his legs and once again slowly sat up. His head swam with the effort it took to accomplish even that small task, and Matt realized if he was going to be able to do anything, he’d actually need to finish whatever food the sister had brought him.
With a sigh, he reached out and grabbed the bowl of soup, lifting it up and bringing it over to him. The clanking of the spook against the bowl was louder than it should have been as Matt’s hand shook under the weight of the bowl. For a moment, Matt fought the urge to throw the dish in frustration. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time. Not since he’d first lost his sight. Sure, there had been other times when he’d felt helpless, but he’d had other things going for him then. His full strength, his heightened senses, and … and friends. Now? Now he didn’t have any of those. He felt as weak as a child. His senses, while they were still heightened, seemed to be on the fritz, one minute too attentive for him to concentrate on, the next minute making him feel like just another blind schmuck who didn’t have super powers. As for friends …
Matt had pushed everyone in his life away. Foggy, Claire. Karen. At the thought of the blonde woman, Matt’s heart skipped a beat. No matter how much he tried to push thoughts of her away, it never worked. Even remembering how harsh she sounded, her cold words when he asked her to come with him to the precinct couldn’t make the feelings for her go away.
Matt’s hands shook as he raised the bowl of soup to his lips and drank the liquid down, chewing the broccoli and carrot chunks as he reached them. Eventually his hands stopped shaking as bad, and he reached out for the roll he’d also smelled. It was warm and soft, clearly homemade, and was gone within about three bites.
Once his food was eaten, Matt decided to try and stand. He was still sore, but with the food in his system, he wasn’t as weak as before, and he was able to move around much easier than he had earlier.
He focused on the noises outside the room. For the time being, his senses were agreeing with him, and not bombarding him with information he didn’t need at the moment. He heard several of the nuns in the kitchen on the other side of the convent, preparing meals for the soup kitchen. That was good information, to know that he was near a soup kitchen. It wasn’t what he was looking for though.
He focused even more, tilting his head as he concentrated. He picked up a conversation between a couple of the nuns, and it piqued his interest.
“— he knows?” one of them asked.
“No. At least, I don’t think he does. Poor Maggie though. Do you know how she’s doing?”
There was a soft chorus of negative answers to the sister’s question, and Matt would have kept listening, but suddenly he picked up on something else, another noise that he’d been looking out for. The gentle click of someone picking up a phone off the cradle. Bingo. It was what he’d been waiting for. He carefully moved forward, heading for the door. He needed to find that phone.
He opened the door carefully, keeping an ear out for any sign of someone coming his way, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. The sister who was using the phone bid farewell to whomever was on the other end of the line, and Matt focused on the reverberation the machine made when the phone was set back in the cradle. That was what he followed as he slowly made his way down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his tender ribs and midsection, while his other hand was placed against the wall as a support.
His senses were still slightly muddled, but his perception was good enough that he could avoid any objects in his way with relative ease. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he finally discovered it. It was sitting on a small table near the end of one of the halls, thankfully not too far from his room. Matt picked the phone up off the cradle and dialed a number he knew well, trying to decide whether the feeling in his chest was hope that the person would pick up, or wouldn’t.
“This is Foggy Nelson.”
Crap. It was at that moment Matt realized he’d wanted to get Foggy’s answering machine.
“Hello?” Foggy sounded impatient. “Listen, stop calling me! Take me off your list, or whatever it is that you guys get my number from. I’m sick of scams, ‘winning’ a trip to a hotel where you’ll probably knock me out and steal my kidney, or being told my car’s warranty is going to expire. Guess what, jerks? Joke’s on you, cuz I don’t own a car! So stop. Calling. Me.”
Matt could tell his friend was about to hang up, and for a split second Matt couldn’t decide if he wanted to let him or not. Finally though, Matt spoke.
“Foggy?”
Through the phone, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath spike, and he even heard his friend’s heart accelerate.
“Who is this?” Foggy’s voice had taken on a colder, sharper edge.
“Foggy, it’s me.”
“No. No, screw you, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.”
Matt heard a slight hitch in his friend’s voice, indicative of Foggy’s emotions getting the best of him.
“I don’t know who you are, or what made you feel like you needed to do this, but it isn’t funny. If you call again, I will find any loophole I can to make sure you get charged with the maximum amount you can be charged with. Don’t screw with me man. Not about this.”
“Foggy, I swear,—” Suddenly Matt picked up on another heartbeat closeby. “Listen, Foggy, I’ve gotta go, but I promise, I–”
“What are you doing?!” Sister Margaret asked as she hurried over and saw what her patient was up to. She pulled the phone out of his hand and put it back in the cradle, harder than was necessary. The clang as the phone was set down echoed through Matt’s eardrums. “You’re supposed to be in bed, resting!”
“I needed to move around,” Matt argued.
“And you just happened to find the phone?” she accused.
“One that you said didn’t work!”
“Because I knew you would do something stupid like get out of bed if I told you we had one that worked.”
“I have people I need to make sure are safe!”
“And what if you’d fallen down and hurt yourself? What if no one had heard your cries for help?”
“I would have managed.” Matt almost sounded like he was sulking, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which technically, he had.
“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered. “You’re just like Jack.”
Matt started at the mention of his father’s name. “What?”
Sister Margaret didn’t answer his question about his father. Instead, she continued her tirade. “So, what are your plans now then? You’re just going to leave? You’re still injured, Matthew.”
Murdock was still trying to recover from his father’s name drop, and he stuttered over his words momentarily before he finally pushed past the shock. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got people out there, people I’ve got to make sure stay safe. If there’s ever anything I can do for you though, you know who I am. You know how to get ahold of me.”
Sister Margaret fumed for a few moments before throwing her hands up in exasperation, an act that wasn’t lost on Matthew, though he didn’t let on that he knew what she was doing. “Alright, you want to leave? Fine. Be my guest. I probably have it coming anyway.”
Matt opened his mouth to ask what her last sentence had meant, but he paused. Pieces of the curious puzzle he’d found himself in when he first woke up were starting to fuzzily fit themselves together, though the picture still wasn’t perfectly clear. He almost didn’t notice when she began moving away, back down the hallway. Her footsteps were forceful and determined, but Matt could also feel a sort of fragileness emanating from her. “Wait,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear. Matt sat there for a moment, his head tilted to one side as he worked through the pieces of information he had at his disposal.
Suddenly, everything clicked. Why her touch felt so familiar, but he was sure he’d never interacted with her before, the strange lies she’d told, and now some of the other things she’d said were confusing to Matt … He had a feeling he knew why this woman, this nun seemed so familiar, and the idea made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.
He took a few halting steps down the hallway after her, but he could hear her getting further away, and his limping wasn’t fast enough to catch him up with her in time. He needed to know the truth now, so he just called out again, louder this time, “Wait!”
Thankfully she paused, which gave Matt a little time to get closer to her. He stopped about ten feet away. She had her back to him, and Matt could feel her tension. With his head tilted to one side, Matt opened his mouth. He could taste the word on his tongue, but the thought of saying it scared him. Not just scared him. It terrified him. He closed his lips, trapping the word inside before it was unleashed on the world, never to be taken back. Once it was spoken, there was going to be an answer, and he wasn’t sure what his reaction to any answer would be.
He berated himself silently. He’d faced Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, a resurrected Nobu, and the entirety of the Hand without freezing. Why was this so hard? He could hear Sister Margaret’s heart beating slightly faster, but she didn’t move or say anything. Finally, Matt opened his mouth again.
“… Mom?”
The woman in front of him hesitated for just a moment before she slowly turned around. Her hands were clasped together and she began wringing them gently as she replied. “Hello, Matthew.”
Jessica’s text came while Foggy was on the phone with a client.
“As I stated earlier, Mrs. Badeski, you’ve got nothing to worry about. … Of course, ma’am.”
Ding.
Foggy looked down at his phone.
I’ve got your number.
That was all he could see without opening the rest of the message, but he couldn’t do that while he was on the phone with his client.
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Of course, Mrs. Badeski. We should be hearing back from the courts any day now. … Yes, ma’am. Of course. … Yes, you too. Talk to you later, ma’am.”
Foggy hung up with his client before picking up his phone and opening the rest of Jessica’s text.
I’ve got your number. It’s a landline to a convent. Lady of Grace. 48th and 51st.
“Thanks,” Foggy typed out.
Don’t get your hopes up, lawyer man.
Foggy didn’t send anything in reply. He figured Jessica was someone who didn’t really want to have a discussion about hope, or Matt. At least not over text. Instead, Foggy jumped over to his contacts and scrolled through until he found the one he was looking for, tapping on the ‘call’ option.
“Karen? I uh, I got an address.”
“You did? Foggy, that’s great!”
“Calm down, Karen. Remember, it’s probably gonna be nothing.”
“But it could be something.”
Foggy had to admire her determined spirit. However, he didn’t have to encourage it more than he already was. “I’ve still got work to do here, but I’ll be done in a few hours. Meetcha then and we’ll go over together?”
“Sure. It’ll give me time to finish up this article.”
“Great. I’ll see ya in a few.”
“Great. Foggy?”
“Yeah?”
“Even if it’s nothing … maybe it’ll help give some sort of closure? You know? Since they never found a body?”
Foggy sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you soon.”
The call was disconnected, and Foggy held his phone against his forehead, closing his eyes as if trying to stave off a headache. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and set his phone back down. He still had a few hours worth of client notes to look over.
0-0-0
Consciousness returned slowly to Matt, as if it were trying to squeeze every last bit of sleep that it could from the young man. He won the battle eventually though, and at last opened his eyes, even though it did literally nothing for him. His heart was beating in his chest, trying to imitate a John Philip Sousa march as it tried to break his remaining ribs.
“Matthew?”
Murdock flinched when he heard the voice. Not because it was loud, or because it startled him, but because he now knew who that voice belonged to really, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with that.
“Matthew, please. Talk to me.”
“What happened?” Matt was having the strongest sense of deja vu.
“You collapsed.”
“No kidding. Why?”
“Your wounds … we think they became infected. I’ve cleaned them as best I can for now, but it really would be better if we--”
“If you you take me to a hospital, which isn’t happening,” Matt finished for her firmly.
“Stop being so stubborn!” Margaret snapped. The rustling of fabric and exasperated huff of air told Matt that his mother was folding her arms in frustration.
“I need to leave,” Matt said in lieu of replying. He tried to sit up, but ended up letting out a sharp shout of pain as his ribs loudly protested against that idea.
“I wouldn’t suggest that,” Sister Margaret said drily.
“I can’t stay here.”
“Yes, you can.” The nun’s voice was sharp. It was a tone Matt recognized. It was the same one he used every night, when he’d go out as Daredevil. When that tone was used, the people Matt fought usually didn’t argue against it. However, Matt wasn’t like them, and this was his mother. She wouldn’t do anything to harm him. At least, he didn’t think she would.
When he tried to sit up again, there was a firm shove on his shoulders that sent him flopping back into the pillows with a gasp. The hands weren’t removed from his shoulders, and when he tried to shake them off, Matt quickly realized that was a bad idea. One that could potentially break his cracked ribs, and throw his broken ribs out of place. After several moments of internally struggling with himself, Matt finally relaxed back into the bed. Sister Margaret didn’t seem to buy his attempt at being docile, because her hands stayed firmly placed on his shoulders, and her heartbeat stayed elevated. She was nervous. Matt decided to try and allay that nervousness, see if he could get her off her guard.
“How long was I out?”
“Most of the day. It’s almost six o’clock now.”
“And … there’s been no one here?” He heard the whisper of fabric on fabric as Sister Margaret shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Matthew.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Matt’s eyes, and he tried to blink them away. There was no reason for him to be upset that Foggy hadn’t taken his call seriously. Even if his friend had believed that it was Matt on the other end of the phone call, Matt figured Foggy couldn’t just drop everything he was doing and come check out the possibility that his friend might be alive.
Matt tried to figure out if he actually wanted to respond to his mother, but footsteps coming down the hall towards the room made the decision for him. Sister Margaret noticed his hesitation and saw his head tilted towards the door. She stood up, turning just in time to face one of the other sisters as she walked inside, tapping softly on the door as she did so.
“Excuse me, Sister Margaret. There are two people here they say they want to talk to whoever’s in charge, maybe walk around a little.”
Matt’s heart picked up the pace slightly, and he stretched out his senses, listening for anything familiar. It didn’t take long. Even with all the heartbeats from the different nuns in the convent, he’d recognize both of the new heartbeats anywhere.
“I’m sorry, Sister Anne. Tell them we aren’t a tourist attraction.”
“No,” Matt said, sitting up and holding out his hands. “Don’t send them away. Bring them …” He paused, wondering what would happen when he was reunited with his friends. He hoped whatever the consequence would be, it would be worth it. “Bring them here. Please.”
He could practically hear the silent conversation between Sister Anne and Sister Margaret. No one said anything for close to thirty seconds.
“Please,” Matt asked again.
Maggie sighed. “Bring them back here, Sister.”
“Yes, Sister Margaret.”
Sister Anne left, and once again, Matt and his mother were left alone. Margaret turned to Matt. “Matthew, I don’t think this is a good idea. You’re not strong enough--”
“You gave up telling me what you think is best for me when you left me and dad.”
“And what if I said I wasn’t telling you this as a mother?” She sounded hurt. Matt could tell his comment actually dug deep, and a part of him felt bad. Not enough for him to apologize though.
“Well then, I could give you the number of someone else who’s taken care of me before, and the two of you could have long conversations about how I don’t listen to medical advice very well.”
Sister Margaret’s breath was once again let out in an exasperated huff, but before she could say anything else, footsteps approached again, their pounding almost as loud as the hammering in Matt’s chest. Matt sat up, faster than he should have, making his ribs ache in protest and his breath catch in his throat, but he pushed past the discomfort.
The door was opened, and when Matt listened, it seemed like everyone’s heart in the room skipped a beat or two.
Karen swore softly, then remembered where she was. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sisters,” she said to the two nuns in the room.
“Sisters, could you, uh … could you excuse us?” Matt asked. Whatever was going to happen between the three friends, Matt didn’t want it to be in front of an audience. Sister Anne immediately turned and headed out the door, but Sister Margaret hovered. Matt tilted his head towards her. “Please?”
He could practically taste her hesitation in the air, but she finally silently agreed and followed Sister Anne out the door, closing it gently behind them.
“How the he--,” Foggy started, but Matt held up his hand. Sister Margaret was still outside the door. Matt could hear her trying to slow her breathing, but her foot scraped against the floor as she twisted. It was soft enough no one else would have heard it. But Matt did. Finally, after not being able to hear anything, Sister Margaret turned and walked down the hallway, muttering to herself. For a moment, Matt debated on whether or not to listen in on what she was saying, but he figured it would be better to pay attention to the matter at hand: namely, his two best friends, who had thought he was dead, standing in front of him.
“Matt,” Karen breathed out, her breath hitching in her throat as she took a step forward. She raised her hand slightly, as if she wanted to touch him, make sure he was real, but she dropped it quickly. Matt reached out and took her hand though, assuring her without speaking that he was really there. They sat that way for a few seconds, then Matt pulled her in gently for a hug, not even caring that his ribs squawked and protested at the sudden pressure.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Karen said, though she didn’t fight to get out of the hug.
“You can’t … you could never … hurt me,” Matt promised her, burying his face in her shoulder. Karen didn’t realize this, but Foggy had taken a few steps closer, not sure of what to do with himself. The blond man didn’t want to interrupt this moment between the two of them, but he also didn’t want to be left out. Matt made the decision for him easily. When Foggy was within arm’s reach, Matt released one hand from around Karen and reached out for his best friend, pulling the other lawyer into the hug as well.
The moment was tender, and all of them felt it. After a few moments, Matt was the first to pull back, putting his hand on his sore midsection. The hug had been worth it, but his broken ribs were going to make sure he paid for their prolonged torture. Obviously Matt couldn’t see it, but he could taste the salt in the air from the tears all of them were shedding. He choked out a laugh.
“Look at all of us, grown adults and here we are, crying.”
“I’d say we’ve earned a bit of crying time,” Karen said softly, reaching out to brush away a tear on Matt’s face. Once again though, she paused, not sure what his reaction would be. Matt sensed her hesitation and reached up, wiping the tear away himself.
“You’re right. I think we’ve earned the ability to have soft moments like this.”
After a few moments, not wanting to disturb the soft moment, Foggy finally spoke up. “Matt, I hate to break this up, but … how?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Matt replied, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. Sister … Sister Margaret said that the rubble formed a pocket around me. That’s the only reason I wasn’t crushed. But other than that, I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Foggy didn’t miss how Matt said the nun’s name; the tone was one of confusion, but obviously Matt knew who the nun was. Foggy wasn’t sure what was so confusing, but he decided not to bring it up.
“Well, whatever happened, you’re … you’re alive,” Karen said, wiping quickly at her face to try and hide the fact that she was still crying. Matt could taste the tears, but he didn’t tell her that. “And you’re not staying here anymore,” the journalist announced.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Matt agreed.
“But you’re not going back to your apartment,” Karen added, knowing that was exactly what Matthew had in mind.
“Karen--”
“Matt, I don’t want to hear it. You’re not going to stay in your apartment by yourself,” Karen insisted.
“I’m fine to be on my own.”
Foggy was the one that answered then. “That’s bull, and you know it.” There was a moment of silence, but not hesitation, before he continued. “You tried so hard to push us away, Matt, and for a while it worked. I … I didn’t know what I wanted from our friendship, but I could tell that you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to have anything to do with you guys, you know why I had to leave--”
“Save it, Matt, and stop interrupting.” Foggy let out a huff and stared Matt down until his friend shut his mouth, signalling for him to keep going. “Listen. I don’t care about your ‘lonely is better’ mantra, because no one can live alone, Matt. Everyone needs someone, and we’ve been there for each other for years. After Midland Circle, you have no idea what we went through.”
Matt sensed Foggy’s hand gesturing through the air as he talked about Karen and himself.
“When I thought you were dead, I didn’t know what to do. You tried so hard to get us to leave, but when it really came down to it, when I thought you were gone, I died inside. Do you know what it’s like, thinking you’ve lost your best friend? Because that’s what you are to me, Matthew Murdock. You’re my best friend, and because of that, neither of us are leaving you again.” Foggy looked over at Karen. “You wanna say anything?”
“No,” she responded with a shake of her head. “No, I think you covered everything.” She looked down at Matt, who was staring past them at the wall, a resigned look on his face. He wanted to fight back, but truth be told, he was tired. He was in pain. He didn’t want to fight with his friends. So, he lifted up his hands in surrender.
“Alright,” he conceded. “Whatever you say.”
The surprise Foggy exuded was tangible. Matt didn’t even need his eyes to see his friend’s surprised look. “Really? That’s it? No arguments?”
“I mean, I can argue, if you want--”
“No, no,” Foggy interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. He was shaking his head so hard, Matt could practically hear his friend’s brain bouncing around in his skull. “No, you just … that’s fine. Who do you want to go home with?”
Matt hesitated. “I, uh …”
“He can come with me,” Karen offered. Matt could feel the heat in her face and hear the blood rushing to her cheeks as she blushed.
“You sure?” Foggy asked.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Besides, you’re still packing and moving things,” she reminded the lawyer.
“You’re moving?” Not that Matt was surprised. The smell of Foggy’s suit was expensive, meaning his friend could afford a much better lifestyle than the one they’d shared previously.
“Found an apartment closer to work,” Foggy replied, unsure of how Matt was going to react. However, his friend’s tired grin seemed genuinely happy.
“That’s great, Foggy. I’m happy for you.”
After a moment of a slightly prolonged silence, Karen let out a whoosh of air. “Well, let’s get you up and out of here?”
“Please.” Matt was trying to forget about the fact that he’d found his mother, and he hoped that by leaving the convent, it may be a little easier. Someday he would come back and face her, but he couldn’t do it today. He accepted Karen’s hand as she reached out to help him up, and together, the three of them slowly made their way out of his room.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone we’re taking you?” Karen asked, looking around for a nun.
Before Matt could answer, he heard a familiar heartbeat, and he let out a sigh. “Sure. Here comes one now.”
“Where do you think you’re going?!”
Matt slowed to a stop and turned to face Sister Margaret, who was coming down the hallway. The slap of her feet against the floor and the flapping of her robes painted an image in Matt’s head of her determined march.
“I’m leaving with my friends,” Matt replied slowly.
“Don’t worry, Sister. We’ll take care of him,” Karen tried assuring the nun. Sister Margaret didn’t pay any attention to the blonde. She was staring straight into Matthew’s sightless eyes. The blind man didn’t look the least bit apologetic.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Matt said evenly. “I’m in very capable hands now.”
“But … Matthew …”
“Come on, guys.” Matt began walking towards the door again, not hesitating in the slightest. Karen and Foggy both looked between Sister Margaret and Matthew in confusion, unsure of what was going on between them, or why their friend was being so openly cold towards someone who saved his life. They stayed with Matt though, and together, the three of them walked out of the convent and hailed a taxi.
Karen got in first, then Matt, and then Foggy. Once they were all inside the cab, Karen gave the driver her address, and he pulled away from the convent, merging into traffic. Foggy glanced back towards the convent and saw Sister Margaret standing there, watching them leave. As he was staring at the nun, Foggy thought he saw a shadowy movement out of the corner of his eye. It was gone faster than he could actually look though. The cab pulled away, and Foggy’s thoughts were jerked back to his current companions, thoughts of the shadow fading from his mind.
The voice sounded distant to Matt, echoey, like whoever was speaking was down a tunnel. He knew that wasn’t true though, because he heard her heartbeat close by, and he felt the added weight by his legs. He tried to move, roll over, sit up, anything, but every movement made him hurt. With a soft moan, he gave up and let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness claim him again.
The next time he woke, it was someone different in the room with him. She smelled different; like lavender and vanilla, and her heart rate was slightly more elevated than the previous woman.
“You’re alright,” she whispered. Her hand moved and grabbed a rag, dipping it into a bowl of water. She squeezed the excess liquid out, and each drop that fell back into the bowl sounded like a piece of glass shattering in Matt’s ears. Finally she brought the rag over and gently dabbed Matt’s chest. As soon as the liquid touched his bruised and broken skin, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips before Matt could stop it.
“I’m sorry,” the woman muttered, but she didn’t stop. “We need to keep these wounds clean. You were in bad shape when you were brought in. Blood loss, broken bones, a fever–”
“Who are you?” Matt interrupted. He had the strangest feeling that he knew the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He figured it was because all the pain his body was experiencing, but still. There was something about this woman that was sitting funny with him.
There was a pause before the woman answered. “I’m … Sister Margaret,” she finally answered. The pitch of her voice alerted Matt that something was off, but she wasn’t lying. She was Sister Margaret. “You’re at the Lady of Grace convent. You’re safe.”
Matt almost laughed that once again, he’d somehow ended up being taken care of by nuns. “What happened?” His head was pounding, and Matt could feel himself slipping back into dreamworld, but he fought against it as hard as he could. Something was off, and he needed to know what was going on. Words tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out in a jumbled heap, one word barely legible from the next.
Sister Margaret picked up another washcloth, dipping it in the water as well. The droplets hitting the water weren’t as loud this time, which Matt was grateful for, and the cool water felt nice when she laid the cloth on his forehead. “Shhh, just rest. Everything will be explained soon.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Matt could hear her perfectly. In his bleary state, he could at least remain grateful that his other senses, while seeming to be on the fritz slightly, were still functioning as normal as could be expected.
“Foggy. Karen. Claire.” Matt was struggling to stay conscious. “I need to … need to get ahold of them. They don’t … I … They don’t know where I am.” Suddenly another person’s face popped into his mind. “Elektra?”
A second hand gently cupped the side of Matt’s face, and he flinched slightly.
“You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” The woman’s thumb moved back and forth across Matt’s cheek. He didn’t know why, but the touch felt … right. Familiar. It was the last coherent thought he had before he once again slipped back into the arms of sleep.
The next time he woke up, he felt more awake, though he still felt like he’d been through a meat grinder. Thankfully, he was alone in the room, and he didn’t have to worry about pretending not to know his surroundings. There was a table to his left, with a string of rosary beads on it, along with a cross hung up on the wall above his bed. Aside from those few things, there was one small chair in the corner of the room he was in, but that was it. The rest of the room was barren.
Slowly, Matt began sitting up. His whole body was sore, and he made a mental note that getting three-hundred feet of building debris dropped on himself was one of the more unpleasant things he’d been through. Not that he’d expected to survive.
As much as he wanted to move faster, his body would physically fight him whenever he tried. He gradually brought his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands on the bed, bracing himself so he remained upright.
The woman before had told him what injuries he had, but Matt took a mental stock of himself anyway. He could feel each and every cut and bruise on his body, each stinging and pulsing. He also counted three broken ribs, along with two cracked ones. Every inch of his body felt like it had been raked over by a claw, and his heightened senses just made the feeling ten times more prominent.
As he stood up, his head began pounding, and he had to stick his hand out and place it against the wall to combat the dizziness and nausea that assaulted him.
Add concussion to that list, he thought to himself. Once the dizzy feeling passed, he started shuffling around the room, too sore to even pick up his feet fully off the ground. He made his way over to the door, but as he reached for the handle, he picked up on footsteps coming his way. The soft scent of vanilla mixed with lavender washed over him, and he knew it was the woman from the last time he woke up, Sister Margaret, coming down the hallway. He took a few steps backwards as the woman neared the door.
When the door swung open, Matt got his first clear image of her, not that it was detailed. She was average height, wearing a nun’s habit, and judging by her heart rate and the way her bones creaked slightly, he guessed she was probably in her mid-to-late fifties. He really had no idea what she looked like, but that didn’t matter to him. By the way she held herself, Matt could tell she was reserved, and he would even go so far to say nervous as she entered.
She let out a small exclamation of surprise when she saw her patient standing by the doorway.
“You startled me,” she said, walking in further. She had a tray of food, and Matt couldn’t help the rumble his stomach released when he smelled the broccoli and cheese soup, paired with the warm roll. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d eaten was.
“Sorry,” Matt said softly.
“Here,” the woman said, setting down the tray of food on the table and walking over to her ward. When she gently grabbed Matt’s elbow, he once again had the strangest feeling that he knew whoever this lady was. It was maddening that he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. He was usually much better at remembering things like that. He knew for sure that she wasn’t one of the nuns from the orphanage, but other than that, he had no idea where he could possibly know her from. She helped guide him back to bed, walking slowly with him to make sure he didn’t topple over.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised lightly.
“Needed to stretch my legs.” They reached the bed and she helped Matt sit down, even though he knew exactly where he was.
“Well, you really should be careful. Here, sit back.” She eased Matt back into the bed so that his back was against the backboard, sitting upright. Matt heard the light padding of her footsteps as she retrieved the tray of food from where she’d set it, and there was sudden pressure on the mattress to the side of his legs. “Don’t move your legs,” she cautioned. “I’ve got this tray of food, and we wouldn’t want it spilling everywhere.” She grabbed his hand and placed a spoon in it, then closed his fist around the utensil.
“Hey, uh, Sister Margaret, right?”
The woman sat back in surprise. “How could you tell?”
“It’s uh, your voice. I’ve got a good memory for voices.”
Sister Margaret inclined her head. “Well, that’s me. What do you need?”
“Listen, I was wondering. Is there a phone I can borrow?”
With that question, Sister Margaret shifted away from the blind man slightly. It wasn’t a response Matt was expecting, and his face scrunched up in confusion slightly.
“I’m sorry. Our electricity has been on the fritz ever since that quake, and I don’t think our landline is back up yet.”
Matt didn’t even have to listen to her heart to know that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. He once again had the feeling that Sister Margaret was hiding something, but he decided not to force the topic for the moment.
“What happened? To me?”
“You were found, trapped under a mound of rubble. The debris you were caught under formed a pocket around you. It’s the only reason you’re alive.”
“Was … was anyone else, uh, found?”
“No, I’m sorry. Was there someone else down there with you?”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” Matt didn’t answer the question about whether he was alone or not.
“Well … the people that found you, uh … said you were very insistent about not going to one.”
“I was awake?” Suddenly Matt realized what must have happened, what they must have seen. “You … do you know … about me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? Depends on what?” Matt’s heart was racing.
“On if you’re going to kill anyone who knows your secret.”
Matt choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment. “No,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Alright, then yes. We know who you are.”
Matt let out a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. “How many people know?”
“Just us sisters here. The people who pulled you from the rubble left your mask on.”
Matt groaned again.
“Your secret is safe with us, I promise. Don’t worry, Matthew. No one else will know.”
Matt’s head swiveled sharply towards the sister’s voice. “How did you know my name?”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, which most people wouldn’t have caught. Matt Murdock was not ‘most people’ though, and he definitely heard the pause. More than that, he heard the lie building in the pause.
“I told you, we know who you are.”
“You said you knew who the other guy was. You never said anything about knowing my name.”
“You woke up momentarily when you were first brought in. There wasn’t much that we could make out, but we did hear the name Matthew, and I figured I would take an educated guess.”
Matt almost called the sister out on that blatant lie, but she stood up and made her way towards the door, and Matt had another question he needed answered before she left.
“How long have I been here?”
She paused and looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “You were found and brought here just under a week ago.”
“A week?” Matt asked incredulously, trying to sit up further. Sister Margaret anticipated such an act though and had already moved back to her patient, placing her gentle but firm hands on his shoulders to keep him in the bed.
“Stay down, Matthew. You’re not well enough to be up and about yet.”
“I can’t stay here,” Matt muttered. He tried to move his legs, but the tray set above him rattled with the plate on it, and he stopped himself before he knocked everything over.
“Well you can’t leave yet, that’s for certain,” Sister Margaret said evenly, keeping her hands in place. They stayed there until Matt finally stilled enough for the nun to feel comfortable letting him go.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but please. Eat your soup, try to get some rest. It’s the best thing for your health right now.”
Matt didn’t want to eat, but the sister stayed there, and he could her expectancy was practically tangible, so finally with a soft huff, he picked up the spoon and placed it in the soup before him. He didn’t eat right away though; instead, he swirled the utensil around for another minute.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Matthew?” Sister Margaret began. She paused, waiting for Matt’s signal to continue, which he gave with a nod of his head. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask anyway.
“Your eyes … they’re non responsive, which leads me to believe you really are blind, but …”
“But how can a blind man do everything you’ve seen the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen do?” Matt finished. Sister Margaret nodded, then remembered her patient’s disability.
“I’m sorry, yes. That is my question.”
Matt let out a long sigh. He didn’t like explaining exactly what his powers were, especially since people didn’t believe him at first. Either that, or they got upset. “It’s … it’s complicated. And something I’d rather keep to myself for the moment,” he added. “I’m sorry Sister, I just—“
“There are some things that you need to keep for yourself. I understand that.”
That was the first time she had been completely honest with him. That made Matt think that she knew firsthand what she was talking about. Still, there was something more there that he could sense in her voice. Longing curiosity, maybe? Or was it something deeper than that? The two of them sat there in silence for another moment before Sister Margaret patted his knee gently. She stood up and made her way towards the door, where she turned around one last time.
“I’ll be back in a little while to pick up the dishes. Take as long as you need to eat, but just remember: you need your rest. Your body’s been through an awful ordeal, and the best thing for it right now is sleep.”
Matt nodded contritely, and he did stay in bed. He even took a few bites of soup, which actually helped him feel much better. But that only lasted until he heard the nun turn the corner at the end of the hall. That was when he pushed the food tray past his legs and once again slowly sat up. His head swam with the effort it took to accomplish even that small task, and Matt realized if he was going to be able to do anything, he’d actually need to finish whatever food the sister had brought him.
With a sigh, he reached out and grabbed the bowl of soup, lifting it up and bringing it over to him. The clanking of the spook against the bowl was louder than it should have been as Matt’s hand shook under the weight of the bowl. For a moment, Matt fought the urge to throw the dish in frustration. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time. Not since he’d first lost his sight. Sure, there had been other times when he’d felt helpless, but he’d had other things going for him then. His full strength, his heightened senses, and … and friends. Now? Now he didn’t have any of those. He felt as weak as a child. His senses, while they were still heightened, seemed to be on the fritz, one minute too attentive for him to concentrate on, the next minute making him feel like just another blind schmuck who didn’t have super powers. As for friends …
Matt had pushed everyone in his life away. Foggy, Claire. Karen. At the thought of the blonde woman, Matt’s heart skipped a beat. No matter how much he tried to push thoughts of her away, it never worked. Even remembering how harsh she sounded, her cold words when he asked her to come with him to the precinct couldn’t make the feelings for her go away.
Matt’s hands shook as he raised the bowl of soup to his lips and drank the liquid down, chewing the broccoli and carrot chunks as he reached them. Eventually his hands stopped shaking as bad, and he reached out for the roll he’d also smelled. It was warm and soft, clearly homemade, and was gone within about three bites.
Once his food was eaten, Matt decided to try and stand. He was still sore, but with the food in his system, he wasn’t as weak as before, and he was able to move around much easier than he had earlier.
He focused on the noises outside the room. For the time being, his senses were agreeing with him, and not bombarding him with information he didn’t need at the moment. He heard several of the nuns in the kitchen on the other side of the convent, preparing meals for the soup kitchen. That was good information, to know that he was near a soup kitchen. It wasn’t what he was looking for though.
He focused even more, tilting his head as he concentrated. He picked up a conversation between a couple of the nuns, and it piqued his interest.
“— he knows?” one of them asked.
“No. At least, I don’t think he does. Poor Maggie though. Do you know how she’s doing?”
There was a soft chorus of negative answers to the sister’s question, and Matt would have kept listening, but suddenly he picked up on something else, another noise that he’d been looking out for. The gentle click of someone picking up a phone off the cradle. Bingo. It was what he’d been waiting for. He carefully moved forward, heading for the door. He needed to find that phone.
He opened the door carefully, keeping an ear out for any sign of someone coming his way, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. The sister who was using the phone bid farewell to whomever was on the other end of the line, and Matt focused on the reverberation the machine made when the phone was set back in the cradle. That was what he followed as he slowly made his way down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his tender ribs and midsection, while his other hand was placed against the wall as a support.
His senses were still slightly muddled, but his perception was good enough that he could avoid any objects in his way with relative ease. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he finally discovered it. It was sitting on a small table near the end of one of the halls, thankfully not too far from his room. Matt picked the phone up off the cradle and dialed a number he knew well, trying to decide whether the feeling in his chest was hope that the person would pick up, or wouldn’t.
“This is Foggy Nelson.”
Crap. It was at that moment Matt realized he’d wanted to get Foggy’s answering machine.
“Hello?” Foggy sounded impatient. “Listen, stop calling me! Take me off your list, or whatever it is that you guys get my number from. I’m sick of scams, ‘winning’ a trip to a hotel where you’ll probably knock me out and steal my kidney, or being told my car’s warranty is going to expire. Guess what, jerks? Joke’s on you, cuz I don’t own a car! So stop. Calling. Me.”
Matt could tell his friend was about to hang up, and for a split second Matt couldn’t decide if he wanted to let him or not. Finally though, Matt spoke.
“Foggy?”
Through the phone, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath spike, and he even heard his friend’s heart accelerate.
“Who is this?” Foggy’s voice had taken on a colder, sharper edge.
“Foggy, it’s me.”
“No. No, screw you, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.”
Matt heard a slight hitch in his friend’s voice, indicative of Foggy’s emotions getting the best of him.
“I don’t know who you are, or what made you feel like you needed to do this, but it isn’t funny. If you call again, I will find any loophole I can to make sure you get charged with the maximum amount you can be charged with. Don’t screw with me man. Not about this.”
“Foggy, I swear,—” Suddenly Matt picked up on another heartbeat closeby. “Listen, Foggy, I’ve gotta go, but I promise, I–”
“What are you doing?!” Sister Margaret asked as she hurried over and saw what her patient was up to. She pulled the phone out of his hand and put it back in the cradle, harder than was necessary. The clang as the phone was set down echoed through Matt’s eardrums. “You’re supposed to be in bed, resting!”
“I needed to move around,” Matt argued.
“And you just happened to find the phone?” she accused.
“One that you said didn’t work!”
“Because I knew you would do something stupid like get out of bed if I told you we had one that worked.”
“I have people I need to make sure are safe!”
“And what if you’d fallen down and hurt yourself? What if no one had heard your cries for help?”
“I would have managed.” Matt almost sounded like he was sulking, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which technically, he had.
“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered. “You’re just like Jack.”
Matt started at the mention of his father’s name. “What?”
Sister Margaret didn’t answer his question about his father. Instead, she continued her tirade. “So, what are your plans now then? You’re just going to leave? You’re still injured, Matthew.”
Murdock was still trying to recover from his father’s name drop, and he stuttered over his words momentarily before he finally pushed past the shock. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got people out there, people I’ve got to make sure stay safe. If there’s ever anything I can do for you though, you know who I am. You know how to get ahold of me.”
Sister Margaret fumed for a few moments before throwing her hands up in exasperation, an act that wasn’t lost on Matthew, though he didn’t let on that he knew what she was doing. “Alright, you want to leave? Fine. Be my guest. I probably have it coming anyway.”
Matt opened his mouth to ask what her last sentence had meant, but he paused. Pieces of the curious puzzle he’d found himself in when he first woke up were starting to fuzzily fit themselves together, though the picture still wasn’t perfectly clear. He almost didn’t notice when she began moving away, back down the hallway. Her footsteps were forceful and determined, but Matt could also feel a sort of fragileness emanating from her. “Wait,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear. Matt sat there for a moment, his head tilted to one side as he worked through the pieces of information he had at his disposal.
Suddenly, everything clicked. Why her touch felt so familiar, but he was sure he’d never interacted with her before, the strange lies she’d told, and now some of the other things she’d said were confusing to Matt … He had a feeling he knew why this woman, this nun seemed so familiar, and the idea made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.
He took a few halting steps down the hallway after her, but he could hear her getting further away, and his limping wasn’t fast enough to catch him up with her in time. He needed to know the truth now, so he just called out again, louder this time, “Wait!”
Thankfully she paused, which gave Matt a little time to get closer to her. He stopped about ten feet away. She had her back to him, and Matt could feel her tension. With his head tilted to one side, Matt opened his mouth. He could taste the word on his tongue, but the thought of saying it scared him. Not just scared him. It terrified him. He closed his lips, trapping the word inside before it was unleashed on the world, never to be taken back. Once it was spoken, there was going to be an answer, and he wasn’t sure what his reaction to any answer would be.
He berated himself silently. He’d faced Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, a resurrected Nobu, and the entirety of the Hand without freezing. Why was this so hard? He could hear Sister Margaret’s heart beating slightly faster, but she didn’t move or say anything. Finally, Matt opened his mouth again.
“… Mom?”
The woman in front of him hesitated for just a moment before she slowly turned around. Her hands were clasped together and she began wringing them gently as she replied. “Hello, Matthew.”
Foggy stared at the phone in his hand, heart pounding in his chest. As soon as he’d heard that voice, that voice … With a silent rage, Foggy decided to put his phone back in his pocket before he threw it against the nearby wall.
It had barely been a week since Midland Circle.
Foggy was still fuming, but he started thinking about the call again. No one knew Matt was Daredevil, so no one knew Matt was dead. Which made Foggy wonder exactly who had called him … He pulled out his phone again and quickly accessed his HCB contacts, scrolling through until he found the one he was looking for.
“Miss Jones? Hi, it’s Foggy Nelson.”
“Who?”
“ … Foggy Nelson? From Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz?”
“Okay, and?”
“And I’m friends with … I was friends with Matt? Matt Murdock?”
The silence that came from Jessica’s end wasn’t a confused silence this time. It was more of a calculated, pondering what I’m going to say next type. “Right. Look, Foggy, now isn’t really a good time for me, I’m in the middle of an investigation, and--”
“I just … when you get the chance, could you look up a number for me?”
A sigh crackled through the speaker, long and drawn out. Then finally, “Fine. Text me the number. I’ll get to it sometime.”
“The sooner the better,” Foggy gently pressed, not wanting to tick off the drunk, superpowered PI more than she already was in a constant state of, but wanting to stress the importance of his request.
“Look, I’ll get to it soon. Just text me the number.”
“Thank y--” The call was ended before Foggy could finish stating his gratitude, but from what he remembered about Jessica, from the few times he’d run into her, that was pretty on-brand for her. With one last look at his phone, he slipped it back into his pocket and walked away, trying to put the thought of the phone call out of his head.
0-0-0
“Matthew, I know, this doesn’t make any sense, but I promise you, I can explain everything.”
Everything Sister Margaret was saying sounded garbled to Matt. Blood rushed to his head as soon as she confirmed that she was his mother, and it was making it difficult for Matt to concentrate on anything. He even managed to bump into a chair as he moved back because he wasn’t paying attention.
“You can’t … How are you … Why …?”
“Matthew, I know it’s hard to take in, but I promise, I will tell you what you need to know.”
“Don’t try using that line on me,” Matt snapped. Rage helped him form complete sentences again. “You’ll tell me everything I need to know? You don’t even need to be a lawyer to spot that loophole!”
Sister Margaret got a soft look on her face and she clasped her hands together. “Matthew, I’m so proud of you.”
That took Matt by surprise, and he closed his mouth, shutting off the argument he was preparing. “I … what? You’re proud of me?”
“Of what you’ve done with your life,” Margaret clarified. “What, you think that I haven’t been keeping and eye on you just because I wasn’t around?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I thought,” Matt shot back.
“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t care for my own child?”
“You tell me. Because you definitely made it seem like you didn’t care for the past lifetime.”
“It’s not that I didn’t care, Matthew. I just … I needed space. Things were complicated.”
“Space,” Matt scoffed. “Well, forgive me for barging in on your needed space. I’ll just get my things and leave.”
“Matthew, no, that’s not what I meant!”
“Well, it’s what I meant.”
“Matthew, wait!”
But Murdock didn’t wait. He turned and used his hand once again to feel his way down the hallway, this time heading for the exit. He was still moving slowly, but his desire to leave made the pain a little more bearable, and he moved much faster than he had when he first exited his room. It was still slow enough that if Sister Margaret had wanted to catch up, she could have, but she didn’t move. Her breathing was faster, and her heart rate was slightly elevated, but she stayed where she was.
Part of Matt was disappointed. A small part of him (not that he would ever admit it) was wanting her to run towards him, to try and convince him to stay, or tell him that she made a mistake, but she didn’t move, so Matt kept heading towards the door. He had nothing in his room, so he had nothing he had to go back for.
He passed several sisters along the way to the exit, each of their curious stares boring separate, individual holes into the back of Matt’s skull as he passed. As he continued moving though, he suddenly felt something, deep in his gut. It forced him to pause in his determined march out of the convent. He tilted his head down, trying to figure out what was wrong.
Maggie noticed his pause. “Matthew?”
“I … something’s wrong.” If there was one thing Matt was good at, it was stating the obvious. Everything was muted and fuzzy all of a sudden, and he tripped over a slight crack in the cement. Thankfully he still had his hand on the wall, so he didn’t faceplant it on the ground, but his broken ribs ground together, and he gasped in pain.
Dimly, he heard Sister Margaret calling out his name, and several hands grabbed ahold of him, lowering him gently to the ground.
“What’s going on?” For a minute, Matt didn’t know who asked that, but then he realized that the words had come from his own mouth.
“His fever’s back up,” someone said above him.
“We have to get him back to bed,” Maggie stated. Matt tried sitting up, saying no. He had to get out; he needed fresh air. Unfortunately, his body had other plans, and he soon closed his eyes, falling into an unwilling unconsciousness.
0-0-0
Foggy sat at his desk, his leg bouncing up and down unconsciously as he worked through some of his files. He thought he was doing a good job at keeping his mind off the phone call from this morning, telling himself that it was just a prank, but the fact that no one knew Matt was dead kept coming back to haunt him.
The words on Foggy’s computer screen began blurring together, forming completely new, illegible words that held absolutely no meaning. It was at that point Foggy checked his watch and decided that he needed to take a break, get a coffee or something. As he made his way out of his office, he kept checking his phone. Still no word from Jessica. However, as if his phone knew he was looking at it, it suddenly lit up and began ringing, flashing Karen’s face across his screen.
“Hey Karen,” he greeted as he answered.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, and Foggy could tell that she’d been crying. “What are you, uh … what are you up to?”
“I was just taking a break from the office,” Foggy replied. He pushed the button to call the elevator, then stepped back to wait.
“Back to work too?”
“Yeah, can’t take a day off. Not with what’s been going recently, the city falling in on itself, stores being looted, high paying clients claiming random crap that’s happened to them …”
“Yeah, the office has been crazy since the quake,” Karen agreed. “Hey, mind if I joined you for a cup of coffee?”
Foggy stepped onto the elevator and closed the doors, hitting the button for the main lobby. “Sure. There’s actually something I wanna talk with you about; where’re you at?”
“I’ll meet you at the little cafe across from HCB,” Karen offered. “Ten minutes?”
“See you then.”
0-0-0
“Karen.” Foggy held up his hand in greeting, letting his friend know where he was sitting. She spotted him and smiled, making her way over. Her smile was reserved though, and Foggy could see tissues poking out of her purse. Foggy knew what she was going through. Even though Matt had done his best to distance himself from the two of them, it hadn’t worked. Not completely, anyway.
“Hey,” Karen greeted as she sat down across from Foggy. The blonde hailed one of the waitresses. “Coffee? Black.”
“You got it.”
“I don’t know how you can like that stuff Karen,” Foggy said with a sad shake of his head. “Tastes too much like your stuff.”
Karen laughed in slight disbelief. “Wow, okay.”
Foggy held out his hands apologetically. “I’m just saying …”
Karen shook her head, a small smile playing around her lips. “You know how lawyers are so good at hiding things sometimes? Yeah, maybe you should try that sometime, at least when it concerns friends and feelings.” She wasn’t upset though.
“I thought journalists longed for the truth in everything,” Foggy pointed out with a smirk as the waitress brought over the drink.
“Fair enough, but once again, I said where it concerns friends.” The journalist picked up the creamer and sugar and added in her desired amount. “Besides, see? I don’t drink it just black.”
“Where was all that flavorful stuff back at Nelson and Murdock?” Foggy teased. Karen chuckled, but the name of the small law firm brought some hard memories for her to swallow. Foggy noticed her change in disposition. “Hey look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for any of that--”
“No, no,” she assured him. “It’s not you.”
Foggy heard it again in her voice. It wasn’t the verge of tears, but it was the sound of someone’s heart breaking over and over again. He knew, because he’d been going through the same thing since that building collapsed. He had to keep up appearances on the outside, because first of all, he had a professional job, and he didn’t think Hogarth, Chao, or Benowitz would find it good if they stumbled upon him freaking out, and secondly because once again, no one knew that Matt was dead.
The sat there in silence for a moment, each having thoughts like that go through their heads. Thankfully, Karen’s boss was much more understanding, even if he was slightly judgy. Karen knew that it mostly came from a place of caring. He just wanted her to distract herself with work, at least while she was in the office.
“So … got any good stories you’re working on?” Foggy asked awkwardly after a minute of silence.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’ve got a couple uh, stories that should pan out really well.”
“I read your article about Matt’s eleven-million dollar suit a couple days ago, that was really--”
“Foggy?” Karen interrupted, setting her cup down a little bit harder than necessary. Some of the coffee even spilled out onto the table. Karen grabbed a napkin and mopped up the mess as she continued. “You said you had something you wanted to talk about?”
Foggy debated whether or not to tell Karen about the phone call from earlier. If she reacted like that about a story she wrote about Matt, he couldn’t help but wonder how she would react to finding out someone had prank called him sounding like Matt. Finally though, he figured it wasn’t good to keep secrets from her. She’d find out soon enough anyway if she thought he was hiding something.
“Yeah. Yeah, there was. Have you gotten any … any weird phone calls recently?”
“Define weird?”
“You’d know what I was talking about if it had happened.”
“Foggy, what happened? Who called you?”
Here it goes. Foggy took in a deep breath. “This morning, I got a call from someone. They uh, they sounded a lot like Matt. When I asked who was calling, all they said was ‘it’s me, Foggy.’”
Karen stared at her friend, a look of disbelief once again lighting on her face. This time though, the disbelief was laced with something. Foggy would almost call it hope.
“Wait, Matt? But … but that’s …”
“Not possible, I know,” Foggy agreed.
“But … do you think?”
“Karen, don’t do that to yourself,” Foggy cautioned. Crap. This was exactly what he was worried was going to happen. She was going to get her hopes up and go searching for any sign or indication that Matt was alive. “You heard what the others said. You know about that stupid hole. Three hundred feet of rubble falling down? There’s no way someone could survive that.”
“But Foggy, if anyone could survive that, it would be Matt!”
“No, if anyone could survive that, it would be one of those super strong guys from Manhattan. Matt might have had super senses, but it didn’t make him invincible.”
“Nobody else knows that Matt was down there. No one knows he’s missing.” Karen spoke in a low, throaty whisper so that if anyone was listening in, they wouldn’t hear what she was saying.
“I know, I thought of that too. But Karen, we … we can’t do this to ourselves. Matt wouldn’t want us to torture ourselves agonizing over whether he’s alive or not. In fact, if it were up to Matt, he may just want us to forget him entirely.”
“Unless it was really him that called you,” Karen shot back. “Do you not even care?” She was getting worked up, Foggy could tell. “This is your best friend, and if there’s even the slightest chance that he’s actually alive, don’t you think that we should at least check it out?” Her voice was getting louder and louder, and people were starting to notice. Foggy looked around and saw everyone staring at them, and he turned back to Karen, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture.
“Okay, listen. Let’s take this conversation outside.”
Foggy stood up and tossed a few bills on the table, then held his hand out for Karen to take, which she did after a few seconds of contemplative silence. They exited the cafe and began walking down the street.
“I’m not just doing nothing about this,” Foggy finally said after they’d crossed the street. “I hired someone to look into the phone number, see what they can find out about whoever it belongs to.”
“Hired someone? Who did you hire?”
“She’s a Private Eye who does freelance work for HCB from time to time. Actually, she just does stuff for Hogarth, but I’ve met her a few times. She was also there when Midland Circle collapsed. Her name is Jessica Jones.”
“Wait, Jessica Jones?” Karen asked. “Isn’t she that Supergirl or something?”
Foggy chuckled. “I don’t think that’s her code name. Probably already trademarked by another super somewhere. Anyway, don’t let her catch you calling her that. From what I’ve heard and seen of her, she doesn’t like all the extra attention her powers give her.”
“Well, have you heard from her yet? When did you ask her to look into it? Did she say when she’d get back to you?”
“Calm down,” Foggy advised. “I talked to her this morning, but I haven’t heard back. She said she’d get to it sometime soon. And before you ask,” he added, seeing Karen open her mouth. “She didn’t specify what ‘soon’ meant. I think she knows it’s important though.”
By that time, they’d reached the entrance to HCB, and Foggy turned to face Karen. “Listen, I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from her. Just … don’t go doing anything stupid until you hear from me. Then, if it’s worth looking into, we’ll go do something stupid together. Deal?”
Karen hesitated a second before finally nodding and grabbing Foggy’s outstretched hand. “Deal.”
She said it grudgingly, but Foggy knew that she meant it. She wouldn’t do anything stupid without him. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, and then have them crushed when nothing comes of this,” he said gently.
“If nothing comes of this,” Karen corrected. Foggy sighed. She was doggedly optimistic, but it was one of the things that he had grown to love about her, and he knew that it was one of the reasons Matt had fallen for her too.
“Anyway,” Foggy said, jerking his thumb back towards the building. “I gotta run. Got more clients to talk with today.”
“Yeah. I’ve got some people I need to interview,” Karen agreed. They turned and each started heading their own direction, but Karen turned back around before they could get too far. “Hey Foggy?” The lawyer turned around. “Thanks for the coffee. And … thanks for telling me about Matt.”
Foggy gave her a soft smile. “Anytime. Just remember, nothing stupid without me.”
“You got it, boss,” Karen replied with a chuckle. With that, the two of them separated, both getting back to their regular lives until more information became available.
The voice sounded distant to Matt, echoey, like whoever was speaking was down a tunnel. He knew that wasn’t true though, because he heard her heartbeat close by, and he felt the added weight by his legs. He tried to move, roll over, sit up, anything, but every movement made him hurt. With a soft moan, he gave up and let the sweet embrace of unconsciousness claim him again.
The next time he woke, it was someone different in the room with him. She smelled different; like lavender and vanilla, and her heart rate was slightly more elevated than the previous woman.
“You’re alright,” she whispered. Her hand moved and grabbed a rag, dipping it into a bowl of water. She squeezed the excess liquid out, and each drop that fell back into the bowl sounded like a piece of glass shattering in Matt’s ears. Finally she brought the rag over and gently dabbed Matt’s chest. As soon as the liquid touched his bruised and broken skin, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips before Matt could stop it.
“I’m sorry,” the woman muttered, but she didn’t stop. “We need to keep these wounds clean. You were in bad shape when you were brought in. Blood loss, broken bones, a fever--”
“Who are you?” Matt interrupted. He had the strangest feeling that he knew the woman, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He figured it was because all the pain his body was experiencing, but still. There was something about this woman that was sitting funny with him.
There was a pause before the woman answered. “I’m … Sister Margaret,” she finally answered. The pitch of her voice alerted Matt that something was off, but she wasn’t lying. She was Sister Margaret. “You’re at the Lady of Grace convent. You’re safe.”
Matt almost laughed that once again, he’d somehow ended up being taken care of by nuns. “What happened?” His head was pounding, and Matt could feel himself slipping back into dreamworld, but he fought against it as hard as he could. Something was off, and he needed to know what was going on. Words tumbled out of his mouth, but they came out in a jumbled heap, one word barely legible from the next.
Sister Margaret picked up another washcloth, dipping it in the water as well. The droplets hitting the water weren’t as loud this time, which Matt was grateful for, and the cool water felt nice when she laid the cloth on his forehead. “Shhh, just rest. Everything will be explained soon.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Matt could hear her perfectly. In his bleary state, he could at least remain grateful that his other senses, while seeming to be on the fritz slightly, were still functioning as normal as could be expected.
“Foggy. Karen. Claire.” Matt was struggling to stay conscious. “I need to … need to get ahold of them. They don’t … I … They don’t know where I am.” Suddenly another person’s face popped into his mind. “Elektra?”
A second hand gently cupped the side of Matt’s face, and he flinched slightly.
“You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” The woman’s thumb moved back and forth across Matt’s cheek. He didn’t know why, but the touch felt … right. Familiar. It was the last coherent thought he had before he once again slipped back into the arms of sleep.
The next time he woke up, he felt more awake, though he still felt like he’d been through a meat grinder. Thankfully, he was alone in the room, and he didn’t have to worry about pretending not to know his surroundings. There was a table to his left, with a string of rosary beads on it, along with a cross hung up on the wall above his bed. Aside from those few things, there was one small chair in the corner of the room he was in, but that was it. The rest of the room was barren.
Slowly, Matt began sitting up. His whole body was sore, and he made a mental note that getting three-hundred feet of building debris dropped on himself was one of the more unpleasant things he’d been through. Not that he’d expected to survive.
As much as he wanted to move faster, his body would physically fight him whenever he tried. He gradually brought his legs over the side of the bed and put his hands on the bed, bracing himself so he remained upright.
The woman before had told him what injuries he had, but Matt took a mental stock of himself anyway. He could feel each and every cut and bruise on his body, each stinging and pulsing. He also counted three broken ribs, along with two cracked ones. Every inch of his body felt like it had been raked over by a claw, and his heightened senses just made the feeling ten times more prominent.
As he stood up, his head began pounding, and he had to stick his hand out and place it against the wall to combat the dizziness and nausea that assaulted him.
Add concussion to that list, he thought to himself. Once the dizzy feeling passed, he started shuffling around the room, too sore to even pick up his feet fully off the ground. He made his way over to the door, but as he reached for the handle, he picked up on footsteps coming his way. The soft scent of vanilla mixed with lavender washed over him, and he knew it was the woman from the last time he woke up, Sister Margaret, coming down the hallway. He took a few steps backwards as the woman neared the door.
When the door swung open, Matt got his first clear image of her, not that it was detailed. She was average height, wearing a nun's habit, and judging by her heart rate and the way her bones creaked slightly, he guessed she was probably in her mid-to-late fifties. He really had no idea what she looked like, but that didn’t matter to him. By the way she held herself, Matt could tell she was reserved, and he would even go so far to say nervous as she entered.
She let out a small exclamation of surprise when she saw her patient standing by the doorway.
“You startled me,” she said, walking in further. She had a tray of food, and Matt couldn’t help the rumble his stomach released when he smelled the broccoli and cheese soup, paired with the warm roll. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d eaten was.
“Sorry,” Matt said softly.
“Here,” the woman said, setting down the tray of food on the table and walking over to her ward. When she gently grabbed Matt’s elbow, he once again had the strangest feeling that he knew whoever this lady was. It was maddening that he couldn’t remember where he knew her from. He was usually much better at remembering things like that. He knew for sure that she wasn’t one of the nuns from the orphanage, but other than that, he had no idea where he could possibly know her from. She helped guide him back to bed, walking slowly with him to make sure he didn’t topple over.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she chastised lightly.
“Needed to stretch my legs.” They reached the bed and she helped Matt sit down, even though he knew exactly where he was.
“Well, you really should be careful. Here, sit back.” She eased Matt back into the bed so that his back was against the backboard, sitting upright. Matt heard the light padding of her footsteps as she retrieved the tray of food from where she’d set it, and there was sudden pressure on the mattress to the side of his legs. “Don’t move your legs,” she cautioned. “I’ve got this tray of food, and we wouldn’t want it spilling everywhere.” She grabbed his hand and placed a spoon in it, then closed his fist around the utensil.
“Hey, uh, Sister Margaret, right?”
The woman sat back in surprise. “How could you tell?”
“It’s uh, your voice. I’ve got a good memory for voices.”
Sister Margaret inclined her head. “Well, that’s me. What do you need?”
“Listen, I was wondering. Is there a phone I can borrow?”
With that question, Sister Margaret shifted away from the blind man slightly. It wasn’t a response Matt was expecting, and his face scrunched up in confusion slightly.
“I’m sorry. Our electricity has been on the fritz ever since that quake, and I don’t think our landline is back up yet.”
Matt didn’t even have to listen to her heart to know that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it. He once again had the feeling that Sister Margaret was hiding something, but he decided not to force the topic for the moment.
“What happened? To me?”
“You were found, trapped under a mound of rubble. The debris you were caught under formed a pocket around you. It’s the only reason you’re alive.”
“Was … was anyone else, uh, found?”
“No, I’m sorry. Was there someone else down there with you?”
“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” Matt didn’t answer the question about whether he was alone or not.
“Well … the people that found you, uh … said you were very insistent about not going to one.”
“I was awake?” Suddenly Matt realized what must have happened, what they must have seen. “You … do you know … about me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends? Depends on what?” Matt’s heart was racing.
“On if you’re going to kill anyone who knows your secret.”
Matt choked out a laugh at the absurdity of the comment. “No,” he assured her. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Alright, then yes. We know who you are.”
Matt let out a groan and leaned his head back against the wall. “How many people know?”
“Just us sisters here. The people who pulled you from the rubble left your mask on.”
Matt groaned again.
“Your secret is safe with us, I promise. Don’t worry, Matthew. No one else will know.”
Matt’s head swiveled sharply towards the sister’s voice. “How did you know my name?”
There was the briefest moment of hesitation, which most people wouldn’t have caught. Matt Murdock was not ‘most people’ though, and he definitely heard the pause. More than that, he heard the lie building in the pause.
“I told you, we know who you are.”
“You said you knew who the other guy was. You never said anything about knowing my name.”
“You woke up momentarily when you were first brought in. There wasn’t much that we could make out, but we did hear the name Matthew, and I figured I would take an educated guess.”
Matt almost called the sister out on that blatant lie, but she stood up and made her way towards the door, and Matt had another question he needed answered before she left.
“How long have I been here?”
She paused and looked back at him, her hand on the doorknob. “You were found and brought here just under a week ago.”
“A week?” Matt asked incredulously, trying to sit up further. Sister Margaret anticipated such an act though and had already moved back to her patient, placing her gentle but firm hands on his shoulders to keep him in the bed.
“Stay down, Matthew. You’re not well enough to be up and about yet.”
“I can’t stay here,” Matt muttered. He tried to move his legs, but the tray set above him rattled with the plate on it, and he stopped himself before he knocked everything over.
“Well you can’t leave yet, that’s for certain,” Sister Margaret said evenly, keeping her hands in place. They stayed there until Matt finally stilled enough for the nun to feel comfortable letting him go.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but please. Eat your soup, try to get some rest. It’s the best thing for your health right now.”
Matt didn’t want to eat, but the sister stayed there, and he could her expectancy was practically tangible, so finally with a soft huff, he picked up the spoon and placed it in the soup before him. He didn’t eat right away though; instead, he swirled the utensil around for another minute.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Matthew?” Sister Margaret began. She paused, waiting for Matt’s signal to continue, which he gave with a nod of his head. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask anyway.
“Your eyes … they’re non responsive, which leads me to believe you really are blind, but …”
“But how can a blind man do everything you’ve seen the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen do?” Matt finished. Sister Margaret nodded, then remembered her patient’s disability.
“I’m sorry, yes. That is my question.”
Matt let out a long sigh. He didn’t like explaining exactly what his powers were, especially since people didn’t believe him at first. Either that, or they got upset. “It’s … it’s complicated. And something I’d rather keep to myself for the moment,” he added. “I’m sorry Sister, I just—“
“There are some things that you need to keep for yourself. I understand that.”
That was the first time she had been completely honest with him. That made Matt think that she knew firsthand what she was talking about. Still, there was something more there that he could sense in her voice. Longing curiosity, maybe? Or was it something deeper than that? The two of them sat there in silence for another moment before Sister Margaret patted his knee gently. She stood up and made her way towards the door, where she turned around one last time.
“I’ll be back in a little while to pick up the dishes. Take as long as you need to eat, but just remember: you need your rest. Your body’s been through an awful ordeal, and the best thing for it right now is sleep.”
Matt nodded contritely, and he did stay in bed. He even took a few bites of soup, which actually helped him feel much better. But that only lasted until he heard the nun turn the corner at the end of the hall. That was when he pushed the food tray past his legs and once again slowly sat up. His head swam with the effort it took to accomplish even that small task, and Matt realized if he was going to be able to do anything, he’d actually need to finish whatever food the sister had brought him.
With a sigh, he reached out and grabbed the bowl of soup, lifting it up and bringing it over to him. The clanking of the spook against the bowl was louder than it should have been as Matt’s hand shook under the weight of the bowl. For a moment, Matt fought the urge to throw the dish in frustration. He hadn’t felt this weak in a long time. Not since he’d first lost his sight. Sure, there had been other times when he’d felt helpless, but he’d had other things going for him then. His full strength, his heightened senses, and … and friends. Now? Now he didn’t have any of those. He felt as weak as a child. His senses, while they were still heightened, seemed to be on the fritz, one minute too attentive for him to concentrate on, the next minute making him feel like just another blind schmuck who didn’t have super powers. As for friends …
Matt had pushed everyone in his life away. Foggy, Claire. Karen. At the thought of the blonde woman, Matt’s heart skipped a beat. No matter how much he tried to push thoughts of her away, it never worked. Even remembering how harsh she sounded, her cold words when he asked her to come with him to the precinct couldn’t make the feelings for her go away.
Matt’s hands shook as he raised the bowl of soup to his lips and drank the liquid down, chewing the broccoli and carrot chunks as he reached them. Eventually his hands stopped shaking as bad, and he reached out for the roll he’d also smelled. It was warm and soft, clearly homemade, and was gone within about three bites.
Once his food was eaten, Matt decided to try and stand. He was still sore, but with the food in his system, he wasn’t as weak as before, and he was able to move around much easier than he had earlier.
He focused on the noises outside the room. For the time being, his senses were agreeing with him, and not bombarding him with information he didn’t need at the moment. He heard several of the nuns in the kitchen on the other side of the convent, preparing meals for the soup kitchen. That was good information, to know that he was near a soup kitchen. It wasn’t what he was looking for though.
He focused even more, tilting his head as he concentrated. He picked up a conversation between a couple of the nuns, and it piqued his interest.
“— he knows?” one of them asked.
“No. At least, I don’t think he does. Poor Maggie though. Do you know how she’s doing?”
There was a soft chorus of negative answers to the sister’s question, and Matt would have kept listening, but suddenly he picked up on something else, another noise that he’d been looking out for. The gentle click of someone picking up a phone off the cradle. Bingo. It was what he’d been waiting for. He carefully moved forward, heading for the door. He needed to find that phone.
He opened the door carefully, keeping an ear out for any sign of someone coming his way, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. The sister who was using the phone bid farewell to whomever was on the other end of the line, and Matt focused on the reverberation the machine made when the phone was set back in the cradle. That was what he followed as he slowly made his way down the hallway, one arm wrapped around his tender ribs and midsection, while his other hand was placed against the wall as a support.
His senses were still slightly muddled, but his perception was good enough that he could avoid any objects in his way with relative ease. It took him a few minutes to find the phone, but he finally discovered it. It was sitting on a small table near the end of one of the halls, thankfully not too far from his room. Matt picked the phone up off the cradle and dialed a number he knew well, trying to decide whether the feeling in his chest was hope that the person would pick up, or wouldn’t.
“This is Foggy Nelson.”
Crap. It was at that moment Matt realized he’d wanted to get Foggy’s answering machine.
“Hello?” Foggy sounded impatient. “Listen, stop calling me! Take me off your list, or whatever it is that you guys get my number from. I’m sick of scams, ‘winning’ a trip to a hotel where you’ll probably knock me out and steal my kidney, or being told my car’s warranty is going to expire. Guess what, jerks? Joke’s on you, cuz I don’t own a car! So stop. Calling. Me.”
Matt could tell his friend was about to hang up, and for a split second Matt couldn’t decide if he wanted to let him or not. Finally though, Matt spoke.
“Foggy?”
Through the phone, Matt could hear Foggy’s breath spike, and he even heard his friend’s heart accelerate.
“Who is this?” Foggy’s voice had taken on a colder, sharper edge.
“Foggy, it’s me.”
“No. No, screw you, whoever you are. This isn’t funny.”
Matt heard a slight hitch in his friend’s voice, indicative of Foggy’s emotions getting the best of him.
“I don’t know who you are, or what made you feel like you needed to do this, but it isn’t funny. If you call again, I will find any loophole I can to make sure you get charged with the maximum amount you can be charged with. Don’t screw with me man. Not about this.”
“Foggy, I swear,—” Suddenly Matt picked up on another heartbeat closeby. “Listen, Foggy, I’ve gotta go, but I promise, I--”
“What are you doing?!” Sister Margaret asked as she hurried over and saw what her patient was up to. She pulled the phone out of his hand and put it back in the cradle, harder than was necessary. The clang as the phone was set down echoed through Matt’s eardrums. “You’re supposed to be in bed, resting!”
“I needed to move around,” Matt argued.
“And you just happened to find the phone?” she accused.
“One that you said didn’t work!”
“Because I knew you would do something stupid like get out of bed if I told you we had one that worked.”
“I have people I need to make sure are safe!”
“And what if you’d fallen down and hurt yourself? What if no one had heard your cries for help?”
“I would have managed.” Matt almost sounded like he was sulking, like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which technically, he had.
“Unbelievable,” the woman muttered. “You’re just like Jack.”
Matt started at the mention of his father’s name. “What?”
Sister Margaret didn’t answer his question about his father. Instead, she continued her tirade. “So, what are your plans now then? You’re just going to leave? You’re still injured, Matthew.”
Murdock was still trying to recover from his father’s name drop, and he stuttered over his words momentarily before he finally pushed past the shock. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’ve got people out there, people I’ve got to make sure stay safe. If there’s ever anything I can do for you though, you know who I am. You know how to get ahold of me.”
Sister Margaret fumed for a few moments before throwing her hands up in exasperation, an act that wasn’t lost on Matthew, though he didn’t let on that he knew what she was doing. “Alright, you want to leave? Fine. Be my guest. I probably have it coming anyway.”
Matt opened his mouth to ask what her last sentence had meant, but he paused. Pieces of the curious puzzle he’d found himself in when he first woke up were starting to fuzzily fit themselves together, though the picture still wasn’t perfectly clear. He almost didn’t notice when she began moving away, back down the hallway. Her footsteps were forceful and determined, but Matt could also feel a sort of fragileness emanating from her. “Wait,” he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear. Matt sat there for a moment, his head tilted to one side as he worked through the pieces of information he had at his disposal.
Suddenly, everything clicked. Why her touch felt so familiar, but he was sure he’d never interacted with her before, the strange lies she’d told, and now some of the other things she’d said were confusing to Matt ... He had a feeling he knew why this woman, this nun seemed so familiar, and the idea made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut.
He took a few halting steps down the hallway after her, but he could hear her getting further away, and his limping wasn’t fast enough to catch him up with her in time. He needed to know the truth now, so he just called out again, louder this time, “Wait!”
Thankfully she paused, which gave Matt a little time to get closer to her. He stopped about ten feet away. She had her back to him, and Matt could feel her tension. With his head tilted to one side, Matt opened his mouth. He could taste the word on his tongue, but the thought of saying it scared him. Not just scared him. It terrified him. He closed his lips, trapping the word inside before it was unleashed on the world, never to be taken back. Once it was spoken, there was going to be an answer, and he wasn’t sure what his reaction to any answer would be.
He berated himself silently. He’d faced Wilson Fisk, Frank Castle, a resurrected Nobu, and the entirety of the Hand without freezing. Why was this so hard? He could hear Sister Margaret’s heart beating slightly faster, but she didn’t move or say anything. Finally, Matt opened his mouth again.
“... Mom?”
The woman in front of him hesitated for just a moment before she slowly turned around. Her hands were clasped together and she began wringing them gently as she replied. “Hello, Matthew.”
So. This is a secondary blog. Made for posting my fanfictions. Usually it’ll only be the ones that don’t seem to get a lot of traffic on fanfiction or AO3, just because I want to make sure people know that they’re there.
I’m always open to prompts, I take constructive criticism (but not flames because my house almost burned down and I’m scared of fire). I do not write slash fics, and usually avoid writing romance all together (because I suck at it and am still trying to get better), but every now and then you’ll see me write something akin to lovey-dovey. Sometimes. If it has to do with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. Mainly just those two because they’re my OTP.
Anyway, enough intro. Follow me if you like my fanfictions! And if you like them enough, message me or send me an ask, I’ll give you my ff.net or AO3 username :)
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
snowghoul
titsay
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
amandla
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis