Matt sighs. This is probably the best he can expect, right? They both suck at dealing with emotions and he could only imagine how many of them Tasha is having to process at once. So ask him questions, get a sense of what had happened… yeah, that makes sense, and it’s probably the best he can expect from her for a while.
“We went after Danny Rand. He was the key for whatever the Hand wanted, so they had Elektra kidnap him and take him to Midland Circle. We got him out and destroyed whatever the Hand was after with the explosion, so… yeah, pretty successful.” Except for the part where he was trapped underneath the explosion which nearly got him killed, but he figured it would be better not to bring that up.
He wants to say he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to put her through all of that but well– he already told her that, and he can only say it so many times before it starts to not mean anything anymore. “It’s my fault. I knew the bomb was going off, I told the others to go. I thought maybe I could save Elektra too, that I could reach out to whatever part of her the Hand hadn’t been able to get to.” Clearly, he hadn’t succeeded in that. All it got him was… well this. This situation they’re in now. And he knows it won’t speed up the process of Tasha forgiving him for disappearing for weeks letting everyone think he was dead, but it’s the truth, and there’s no point in hiding it from her. Especially if he has any hopes of things going back to the way they were, he knows her better than to hide things like this hoping it will never come up.
So her guess had been right. Electra was gone. That was... was that supposed to be a comfort to her jealous heart? Was she supposed to console him for his loss? Congratulate him on a job well done? Lament his wounds? Berate his foolhardy lack of self-preservation? Chastise him for his ever present goddamn need to save every person in the universe?
“So Danny is safe?” Fuck, really? “And you are too,” she amends. Her voice is just a touch warmer, because she really has missed him, and mourned him, and if she wasn’t so shaken by his existence right now, she’d probably wrap him up in her arms the way she once did so readily. He’s right there, after so long — it feels like years since she’s seen him (and he doesn’t even have the luxury of sight to reciprocate) — and all she can feel is guilt. How could she not have known that he was still alive?
But she’d lost too many people too often (killed too many with her own hands) to disbelieve the fragility of life. And Matt, despite everything, was fragile in so many ways. Resilient too, incredibly strong and brave, but with his conscience and selfless love for so many...
“Matty,” she whispers, suddenly overwhelmed. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ll be back in a bit but... I’m glad you’re alive.” You have to believe me, she doesn’t say. I need to get my head on straight but you have to know I love you. I’m sorry.
She turns away, digs the heels of her palms into her eyes to stem the tears that are threatening to overflow. She could get called on a mission at any time and she is compromised. She needs to fix this. “Sorry,” she whispers again, casts a last look at him, and heads into the bedroom. Deep breaths, she reminds herself. Control your emotions. You know how to deal with this.