There were years when bad days were more and more frequent. There were others when they were few and far between, though that had been the case more recently, when Matt was so busy with other ventures that the capital âDâ took something of a backseat, or at least didnât demonstrate itself in that way. (Self sacrifice on a nightly basis definitely helped with the self loathing, at the very least.) On the really bad days, Matt found himself waking up and wanting to go into the darkness within a secondâs notice. He buried his face under the covers, ignored his phone ringing and his alarm blaring. His limbs felt like concrete, the bed continued to suck him in, and no one and nothing could convince him to get out of that bedroom.
Many had tried, of course. Foggy had attempted to pull him out to go for their final torts exam. Elektra had bargained with him on the basis of free skydiving tickets. Karen had enthused about Christmas, how delicious the dinner she had prepared (read: bought) would be. None of them managed to get him out, and in fact, they almost pushed him down further. It took two years of Nelson and Murdock before Foggy figured out exactly what to do, and that was pass Matt his phone with Daisy on the other end of the line.
Daisy, no matter what she was doing (and Matt was sure that there were times when she was on the phone running, for he could hear her heavy breaths, and the telltale sound of the ground shaking underneath her), would stay there, talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes she just stayed there silent until Matt finally told her what was going on, which usually amounted to âI donât want to do anything ever again.â Getting the words out, though, made it bearable, made it something that he could face, and she had always been the one on the other side of it.
He really needed to say thank you for that more often. The last thing that he wanted to do was take her for granted, or fail to show how deep his gratitude really went. In between teasing, telling each other about their lives and fighting over the TV remote, though, it was hard to find an opening. Matt had never really been the kind of person who was able to share his feelings openly, but lately, that was shifting and changing. He could only assume it was a good thing. âI am your lawyer,â Matt deadpanned, knowing there was no chance in hell she could forget that considering how often she had called him up from various holding cells over the years, or the precursor to a holding cell. He hadnât even known such a thing existed until Daisy. âI mean, I can understand dogs better than most people. Just because we donât both speak English doesnât mean I canât talk to them!â Daisy hadnât bought that when she was six, he doubted she would now, but he could try. âThatâs because he stole my ice cream, Daisy. I was so angry I couldnât form an argument. That doesnât count! Exceptional circumstances!â
Matt didnât respond to that, just gave her a devilish grin. There might have been a reason why he got his name, after all, besides the irony. âDamn. I was hoping there was some kind of secret code I could look out for.â People always assumed that Matt was the kind of person to kiss a girl on a doorstep and move on after a first date. Sometimes, that was true, especially if he was serious about the person. Other times ⌠well, things were different. âThatâs ⌠really something. I was kind of hoping the ninjas had a monopoly on that. Good thing we have it on side, though, I guess?â Would Matt want to tempt fate like that? Not in the slightest. âHey Daisy? If I die, donât bring me back, agreed? Iâm not messing with the Big Guy like that. Iâve done enough while Iâm alive.â Matt paused for a moment. âWait,â he said, âwhy are you being suspicious? Daisy? Daisy!â
When she was a kid, lost and confused and angry at the world, Daisy hadnât understood what left Matt glued to his bed some days, unwilling to poke his head out from under the covers. There were moments when she remembered being terrified, sitting in her bed and staring at him, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest and counting the seconds in between. Too young to grasp the complicated nature of mental health, sheâd been terrified that there was something physically wrong, terrified that his chest would stop moving and his heart would stop beating and sheâd be back to being entirely and utterly alone with no one in the world who truly wanted her.
As she grew older, she understood that it wasnât like that. She learned that on those days, Matt didnât need a doctor, didnât need to be brought eight glasses of water that she balanced precariously on his bedside table just in case he got thirsty. On those days, she learned, he needed someone to be there. Sometimes, he needed someone to talk, needed to hear the echos of their words and feel the vibrations of their chest. Others, he needed them to listen, to sit in silence as he spoke about how he felt or how he didnât feel. And then, there were days when he needed neither. He didnât want conversation at all, but he didnât want to be alone, either. Daisy learned to do all three, learned to tell what he needed and when.
She got good at being there for him, and in return, he got good at being there for her. When she needed to scream, he let her. When she needed to cry, he threw an arm around her shoulder and didnât say a word. He was the best at distracting her from whatever terrible situation she found herself a part of, good at keeping her mind off her parents or Lincoln or HYDRA or whatever was breaking her heart at the moment. When theyâd had no one else in that orphanage, theyâd carved out a family of their own. It was something to be proud of, an accomplishment few could boast.
They both knew it, of course, even if they didnât always say it. That was the thing about family: you never had to reaffirm that theyâd be there for you. They just were, showed up every time you needed them without question. âUntil I replace you with someone fancier, maybe,â she teased, though they both knew there was no real danger of that. Few other lawyers would be able to show up without rolling their eyes when she called them at two in the morning requesting bail and fast food. (âThey donât feed you in prison, Matt. I honestly think we should sue!â) âOh my god, you are so full of shit! Lying is a sin, Matthew.â Like that would stop him! âIs that how you play it in court? I canât see any judge showing sympathy to that!âÂ
Daisy rolled her eyes at the grin, huffing and trying not to let her amusement show. âGod, I wish there was a secret code. Think of all the time I couldâve saved.â Her life wouldâve been far easier if people were easy to read, but that wasnât the way the world worked. It was unfortunate, but she was sort of used to it. âI guess everyoneâs doing it nowadays. Just the thing to do, right?â She glanced up as he spoke, swallowing around a lump in her throat. Could she make that promise? She wouldâve brought Lincoln back in a second if she could have. Finally, she nodded. âOkay,â she agreed quietly. âPromise you wonât let them do it to me, either?â SHIELD would try. Even if Coulson was willing to let her go, SHIELD would try to bring her back. Sheâd seen them do it to other agents, seen the way they always came back different somehow. She didnât want that. At Mattâs tone, the tension slipped from her shoulders. Fucking with Matt always cheered her up a little! âIâm not being suspicious! Iâm just saying, Iâve never been brought back from the dead, technically!âÂ
