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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

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MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - Aimed To Kill

tags: @mayasaurus--rex @americaarse @dusstory @johnmurphys-sass @ironprincessstranger @astrobees @woowwwee // four // six // masterlist

Pairing: Matt x Reader

Word Count: 10,424

Summary: Pages turn and bridges burn as Ex realizes the extent that she’s behind. When sentiment thrives amongst the chaos between her and her first love, question becomes whether they can fix their hearts with the lips that have left scars on each other.

Ray sent you home after your conversation. A team remained for cleanup and analysis, and you offered to help, but you were told to go home. He said for you to take care of yourself, write down whatever important things you didn’t want to forget, and he’d see you in the office for a debrief tomorrow. You tried to wait for Karen or Foggy, but Ray said if you wouldn’t leave on your own, he would walk to your car himself.

You thought about going home, about sleeping off the whole ordeal. But your mindless driving took you to the church. Once you pulled up, your feet guided you through the rod-iron gate out front without hesitation and through the heavy wood doors with your chest growingly inexplicably tighter with each step.

Your feet seemed to know where to go more than your head because before you knew it, you were just around the corner from the gate. You took a deep breath and built the pressure in your chest to a pinnacle. You let it out as a controlled exhale and felt the thrumming of your pulse slow to its usual pace.

“You’re missing the point! He didn’t just find someone to wear my suit.” Matt argued so you stayed around the corner to listen in, hiding your presence behind a bubble of indifference. “He’s as fast and skilled as I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’t take him. He found someone to kill me.”

“Matthew.” Sister Maggie tried.

“I was stupid enough to think that I had Fisk cornered. He knew I’d find the witness and I just brought the sheep to the slaughter.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling that slap of guilt.

“Jasper Evans is dead. He’s dead and he leaves a son behind and that’s on me! … I was so sure that I was finally out in front of this bastard. God, and I was stupid enough to put Y/N in the middle of it.”

You stepped inside quietly and stood beside Maggie. Her head snapped towards your sudden presence, but she offered a small, thankful smile. You gently took the cloth from her hand and moved towards Matt. He jerked away from your touch but you grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. He huffed in annoyance and you quietly rolled your eyes.

“Fisk knew I thought that I had him. He was waiting for me.” Matt’s rant continued, though his anger was now wavering between that heat - a heat that so familiarly blasted from him - and suffocating guilt. “Of course he was waiting for me.”

You worked calmly and quietly as you began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Foggy and Karen could’ve been killed.” Matt tried.

Your movements paused at the last button when you realized he was right. But your head cocked in thought when you also realized that they weren’t killed. He hardly touched them… Why kill everyone else but them? “And there would’ve been nothing I could’ve done to stop it. Nothing.”

“You’re losing blood. Let me stitch you up!” Maggie insisted and Matt’s brows furrowed slightly, clearly having assumed the person touching him was the familiar nun.

“I listened to you. I listened to you and they almost died.” Matt continued, though one bloodied hand reached forward and found your face.

You couldn’t hide the smile as his thumb traced your features. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, his mouth threatening to reveal a smile. That prior tightness in your chest dissipated almost instantly when you saw that you still meant something special to him. While their conversation continued, you were thinking of an old memory from college.

————————————

“Does that even work?” You giggled and dropped on the bed beside Matt. He turned his head in your direction with a content smile. “They do it on TV but is it actually a thing?”

“It helps, yeah.” He nodded. “You don’t have to though.”

“Do you want to?”

He gave a small shrug. “Foggy’s pretty much told me what you look like. The guy couldn’t stop talking about you for a week after we first met. It was always ‘how did we not know she was in our classes?’ and ‘how is a girl like that trynna be a lawyer?’.”

“Huh.” You propped yourself up on your elbows. “I’m gonna kick Franklin’s ass.” You laughed before sitting up fully and patting Matt’s chest. “C’mon, get up.”

“Why?” He asked, though he did as he was told.

“So we can do this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

You could tell he was trying to keep down his smile as his hand hovered near your cheek. You felt a twisting in your stomach and realized for the first time in a long time, you had butterflies. Your skin was buzzing with excitement as you waited for Matt’s gentle touch. He giggled quietly and pulled his hands away.

“What’s wrong?” You laughed.

“Nothing.” He insisted with a grin. “Nothing, I swear.”

Your brows raised expectantly and he licked his lips with a smile as he raised his hands again. You laughed to yourself and grabbed his wrists to guide his hands. You slid his fingers into your hair at your temples and his thumbs ran along your forehead, following the path of your hairline.

You watched his expression shift, though there was always a smile on his face. His brows raised and furrowed as his thumbs continued to travel your face, skimming over your eyebrows as his fingers traced the curve of your ears. You giggled slightly when he got your eyes and the touch against your lashes made your eyes close.

“Can you smile?” He asked softly when both palms slid to your cheeks.

Your eyes opened and you saw the soft expression he wore. That look alone was enough to bring out an honest smile, thinking about how sweet and honest Matt was. He gave you a chance to be soft in a way you never had before. You had always thought yourself synonymous with bloody knuckles and gun powder. You wanted to be something to fear, to make people afraid to hurt you. But when Matt was around, all your jagged edges seemed to be rounded out.

His thumbs traced your cheeks to the bridge of your nose. You bit down the smile as his pointer fingers made their way to your lips, gingerly tracing the shape. One hand fell away while the other gave your cheeks a gentle squeeze, making you laugh.

“What was that for?” You asked and he laughed with you as he pulled both hands back to his lap.

“Nothing.” He answered innocently. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Matt.. So are you.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised as a slight pink tinted his cheeks.

“Yeah…” You smiled softly. “Y’know, I’m really glad we met.”

“Me too.”

————————————

Maggie tapped your shoulder and you pulled back into the present moment. You turned to see her handing you a bowl with the supplies to stitch him up. She offered a quick nod before disappearing and you blinked the pink tint from your vision.

“I don’t know if I can beat the man he sent to kill me, Y/N/N.” Matt confessed softly as you moved across the room to wash your hands.

“Have you forgotten everything I taught you?” You asked simply.

“I’ve thought about everything between us a lot lately.” He said softly, all anger fading to the back for a moment as he appeared at your side. “Good and bad.”

“And there’s been a lot of both.”

“Mostly my fault.”

You turned to him with a clean wet cloth in hand. You gently grabbed his jaw and turned his head down towards you. He snorted a quiet chuckle while you gently cleared the blood from his nose and mouth.

“Well I’m not exactly a cake walk to have around… Just ask Marc. Or Billy. Or Frank. Or either of my cousins.. Hell, you could ask Karen.” You laughed slightly.

“I’m serious, Y/N/N.” He offered a small, lopsided smile.

“Y’know, I thought you might've turned off your heart, cause that just wasn’t you last time I saw you, when we were at Jasper’s.. But this guilt makes more sense.”

“You don’t seem very fazed that our friends could’ve died.” He commented as your hands returned to their place in his chest and began stitching him up.

“Yeah...” Your brows furrowed as you thought back to your realization from just moments ago. “They could’ve. But they didn’t.”

“He knew from the start, since I went to the prison. He knew I’d find Jasper.”

“Shut up for a second.” You shook your head, pausing your hands to let your brain work through your thoughts. You slowly began tapping your finger against his chest and he looked down at you with raised brows. “So why didn’t he kill them?”

“What?”

“The imposter could've killed them both. You were down and I had barely gotten to my feet, which was after he had already pulled a trigger on Jasper.” You stopped and turned your head up to face Matt again. “He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to give chances. So why not kill them too? Why not kill all of us?”

“Cause that wasn’t the plan.” Matt finished.

“No… He wasn’t sent to clear the place. The journalists and whatever damage he did from that was his own idea, probably only killing people that fought back. He was sent to send a message. To me and you, to the public, and every crime syndicate in New York. If he can wreck your public image, it shows that the people can’t trust you anymore. And by making it look like you’ve snapped and you work for him now, criminal groups across the city will see him as untouchable.”

“FBI protects him inside. Daredevil protects him outside. Makes it look like not even Exodus can’t touch him.”

“Untouchable. Like she’s fighting a losing battle…” Your fingers continued the steady movements to stitch him up. “We’ve gotta find this guy sooner rather than later.”

“I couldn’t stop him, but you could.” His brows furrowed but you ignored the look he gave you and focused on finishing the stitches. “How’d you know how to beat him?”

“His first instinct was to throw the club, which told me pretty much everything I needed to know.” You explained, though it was partially a lie. “He was strong, sure. But it was easy to tell his advantage was with distance and projectiles. When you two were going at it, he had trouble blocking everything which showed a lack in hand to hand experience. I saw a fighter that relied on brute strength or distance. The way he carried himself reminded me of the military, and in my experience, military men can’t defend against me very well. He couldn’t get me until I let up or got distracted.”

“Your experience.” He chuckled. “How many military men do you have experience with?”

“I don’t owe you that answer.” You said simply.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s not a very discreet way to ask who I’ve been sleeping with.”

“What?” He feigned innocence.

“I know you were at the apartment. What gave it away?”

“I could smell the colognes in the bedroom.” He admitted.

You let the silence settle for a moment until he began fiddling with his fingers.

“Four.” You finally answered and his brows raised in mild shock. “Two of them would’ve been recent enough that you could tell but they were just to pass the time. Well that’s kind of a lie. I was starting to like one of them until he turned around and shot me. The other two of them actually mattered, but one of them’s like my family. They’ve never been in the bedroom like that.”

“Hmm… Couch?” He tried to joke.

You smacked his arm.

“Neither of them have been in the apartment.” You specified.

“Your math is wrong, by the way. That was five.”

“No, it’s four.. There’s some overlap.”

“Would I uh… Would I know any of them?”

“Names, yes. Actual people, some. And to answer that other burning question that’s stamped on your forehead, no. I never slept with Frank.”

“I didn’t-“

“You assumed the only military guy we had in common… You were dead. What else was I supposed to do?” You gave a small shrug and dropped the supplies to the sink.

“I know.”

“Y’know, I really thought we could make it..”

“We still can.” He said softly, as if the words would break him. As if admitting those words in your presence was the last crumble of his resolve to stay away in the name of your protection.

And maybe they did. All you knew for sure was that whatever hard casing had shattered in your chest earlier that night, it would never fully solidify again. You were each other’s greatest weakness. The clearest vulnerability, but your greatest strength came from each other. Your best feats came when you two were together. Fisk knew that, and that’s why he wanted to separate you two.

Matt waited for you to turn back towards him and when you did, he took your hand and guided you to the small bed tucked in the corner.

“The suit he was wearing...” You remembered, hoping to redirect the conversation to the fight.

“Yeah, it was perfect.” Matt agreed.

“I think we’ll need to see Melvin.” You sighed and turned to him.

His brows furrowed as his head tilted, listening in on something. Your head cocked as you watched and waited for him to talk about it.

“Are your ribs bothering you again?” He asked suddenly. “It sounds like the bones are rubbing together.”

“Probably. He slammed me a few times and I took a tumble down the stairs earlier but it doesn’t hurt.” You sat up taller to prod the area but Matt’s hand was already pressing against the bones while the other was against your back for stability. You winced sharply and grabbed his wrist. “Yeah, they’re busted. I’ll deal with it later.”

“I can’t really feel it. Can I…” He gestured to your shirt.

You shook your head softly but stripped off your jacket and button-up. You gave Matt a side eye as you undid the velcro straps on your vest but he held a look of innocent concern. You pulled the vest over your head with a wince, leaving you in the black compression top that was underneath.

“Don’t think you're gonna get me out my clothes that easy anymore, Murdock.” You teased and he smiled as you guided his hands back.

“Guess I still got it.” He answered lowly as he pressed against your rib cage. You let a sound between a whine and a groan, which made Matt quickly turn to face you. “Never heard you make that sound before.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes in amusement.

“What about your hip? Where the knife went in?” His fingers slid down and pressed the joint of your hip.

“It’s fine, should be just a scar by now.” You looked down at his hand and saw the dark purple shapes on the back of your forearms from where you blocked the baton earlier that night. You hummed in acknowledgment and lifted your arms to better see the bruises.

Matt was quick to reach up and run his fingers along your skin, feeling the slight swelling of the discolored area. He sighed slightly and leaned forward, sliding his hands to have a better grip on your hips. He offered a quiet, pleading expression and gave your body a slight pull. You hesitantly scooted closer, lifting a leg to rest on his lap.

“My last fight was a lot worse. Still got out better than you did.” You said softly, brushing your fingers across his forehead to move his hair back. “You feeling okay?”

“Careful, Y/N.” His eyes closed and a small smile crossed his lips. “I might start to think you still love me.”

“I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t.” You confessed quietly. “I had to make sure we didn’t lose you again.”

He shifted back on the bed slightly and pulled your hips again, this time pulling you over his lap. He draped your arms over his shoulders before his hands ran up and down the sides of your thighs. You leaned your forehead to rest on his and he tilted his head back so his lips brushed yours.

“You know there are some things we need to talk about.” You said quietly.

“I know..”

“And I can’t stay down here forever.”

“Yeah, just… Just let me hold you for a little longer.”

You nodded slightly and his arms snaked around your waist, allowing you to wrap yours around his shoulders. You leaned forward to drop your head against his shoulder and his chin rested on top of your head. He took a deep breath and his arm held you a little closer. In turn, you felt a rattling in your chest. The sensation was true for what you and Matt felt about your current relationship. Uncertain, shaky at best with a cracked foundation. But there was a familiar tug as well, like a string tied from his heart to yours.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me anymore.” He mumbled against your shoulder before he pulled back. “I can’t keep you with me.”

“I can protect myself.” You answered with a small smile. “And I can feel that you want me here, Matty. You can say whatever you want but you can’t hide that longing in your chest.”

He hesitated to go any further, though his hands held you a bit tighter. You let your own hands run up the back of his neck and your fingers pushed into his hair. He let out a chuckle in relief and pressed his lips fully against yours.

Your lips moved together as if no time had passed. You let out a soft moan when he gently pulled you closer and you let all your guards crumble away.

Suddenly, Matt could feel her pulse against his skin with the small noise she made. He could hear more than just the bones rubbing together in her chest. He heard the way her heart was pounding and her breath was growing shallow. He slid his hands up to the exposed skin of her sides and he loved how he heard her heart pick up and the gasp that fell from her lips. He continued to push his hands under her shirt until his fingers found the hem of her bra.

His head was screaming for him to let her go, to force her to leave and keep her safe. He was yelling at himself to say something hurtful, to break her heart and send her off hating him. He knew she’d be safer that way, as far away from as she could get. But Matt recognized that she wouldn’t go for that. She’d never leave his side if she had a choice, and she wouldn’t let Matt take that choice from her.

She pulled her lips away just enough to offer a small, silent nod. She helped him remove her shirt and to stifle the groan. Once the fabric was gone, Matt gently switched positions so she could lay on her back. He carefully climbed on top of her and felt her hands trail down his chest. His eyes closed as her fingertips ghosted over the various scars across his abdomen, as if she wanted to see if they were still there. Maybe that was how she could convince herself it was real, that he was real. He felt her hands falter on one that she wouldn’t know, one that came from Midland Circle. But he knew she wasn’t feeling it in a bad way. She was feeling it to remember it, to add it to the memory she kept of his body.

He had added a few new scars of hers to his memory as well. The tattoos at the back of her neck. Deep lines around her wrist that were interrupted by a shallow circle on either side, a short but raised mark near her belly button. The newest one at her hip that he had yet to feel. He felt the slight divot along her jaw earlier that night. Whatever she had gone through in his absence, she’d never be able to forget it. He still wondered what happened, but in those moments where he had her hands and lips on him, he couldn't bring himself to stop and ask. He decided it would be a story for another time.

The moment only broke when Y/N gently pushed his chest away.

“Maybe this isn’t a great idea..” You said gently.

“Yeah..” He answered simply, as if that was the reaction he expected from you. “You’re probably right.”

“I still wanna stay.” You offered as he moved to lay beside you.

“I thought you couldn’t.”

“Tell me to go and I will.”

“And if I want you to stay”?

“Tell me and I will.”

You woke later that night - or maybe it was early morning - when your phone was ringing on the floor. You freed yourself from Matt’s arms and slid from the small bed to the floor. You found your phone in your jacket and leaned your back against the bed while you answered.

“Yeah?” You mumbled, eyes still closed and sleep dripping from your voice.

“Hey.” Dex’s voice answered and it felt like you were slapped awake. Every muscle in your body tensed as you expected an accusation of your alter ego. “Just callin’ to see if you’re home. I wanted to come by.”

“Isn’t it kinda late for that?”

“I was just hoping we could talk.. I heard about what happened at the Bulletin.”

“They’re talking about it already?” Your brows furrowed.

“No, not really.” He said carefully and it was clear he was fabricating his lie as he went. “Ray told me you got a little banged up and I should check on you.”

You knew you had to redirect the conversation quickly or else he might realize that he didn’t see you there, if he hadn’t realized already.

“You don’t have to. I’ve gotten worse than a few bumps and bruises. But hey, while I got you, I wanted to ask if there was any word on your leave? I didn’t get a chance to see if Ray knew anything.”

“Uh… No. No, I haven’t heard anything. No.”

“That’s too bad.” You feigned disappointment. “Tonight probably would’ve been different if you were with me.”

“Yeah…” He paused on the other line and you knew you still had some hooks in him you could pull. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go. Sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hopefully I get you back with me soon, yeah?”

“Yeah… Yeah, soon. Back with.. with you.”

When you walked into work that morning, you were immediately blasted with familiar feelings from Karen. You followed that calling and ended up in the conference room with Foggy and Karen on one side and Ray on the other. Karen let out a tense sigh and jumped to meet you in a tight embrace, so tight you had to swallow the groan when she squeezed your ribs. Foggy was next, a short embrace followed by a tap on your arm.

“Y/L/N. Glad you’re here. How do you feel?” Ray asked when you stood beside him.

“Little banged up.” You gestured to the still red cut on your forehead. “But I’m not sitting this out. I get you had to pull me from the Murdock investigation but you’re letting me stay on this thing.”

“Yeah.” He gave a small smile. “Wouldn’t do it without you.”

“Great.” You nodded and took a seat beside Ray. “Fill me in.”

“We were addressing that, according to her own paper, Ms. Page has met Daredevil at least twice.” He explained and slid a paper across the table, citing the articles Karen had written.

“That psycho’s not Daredevil.” She countered and shoved the paper back.

“I got a pretty good look at him, too. Could’ve fooled me.” Ray countered, not acknowledging that you had told him something similar the night before.

“Do you think every fat guy with a white beard and red suit is Santa Claus?” Foggy countered and you had to smile.

“If he comes down my chimney and leaves presents under the tree.”

“Devil’s in the details there, Ray.” You added carefully. “That guy would’ve acted like Santa. If he did all of that, this guy didn’t act like Daredevil.”

“Based on how many encounters?” Ray turned to you.

“Couple.” You shrugged.

“He doesn’t kill people, ever. It’s not Daredevil.” Karen insisted. “Did you ever look into Felix Manning? Red Lion Bank?”

“They’re on my to-do list.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Look, Karen, he dropped your name.” You added but you weren’t speaking to her an FBI agent. You were speaking to her as her friend, as her vigilante friend, and she knew that. “He had a chance to kill you, but he didn’t. You were the one person left untouched. I know this seems like bullshit but we need to get these pieces to line up somehow.”

“It won’t.” Foggy cut in. “Not until you two start asking the right questions.”

“And what are those, Mr. Nelson?”

“How about this? Where’s Matt Murdock?” Ray interjected, looking at Foggy and then you.

You simply shrugged.

“Yet another fine example of a question that’s besides the friggin’ point!”

“You were supposed to deliver him to us-“ He gestured between the two of you. “-but there are zero Matt Murdocks in my custody.”

“And zero Jasper Evans left alive.” Karen added. “He killed the one person who had dirt on Fisk, but you knew that already. Is that why you don’t wanna go there?”

“Ms. Page.” You warned.

“What? That nut job did Agent Nadeem a huge favor. Now there’s no one left to tell the world what a fool Fisk is making of the FBI.” Karen continued.

“Did you know Daredevil was-“ Ray began.

“Daredevil imposter.” You cut in, earning a look of disbelief from Ray. “I’ll show you later.”

“Regardless.” He turned back to Karen. “Did you know he was gonna attack the Bulletin? Is that why you brought your gun?”

“Oh, come on.” You groaned as Foggy announced “We’re done here.”

Your friends were quick to leave the room, leaving you and Ray.

“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t get a good look at him.” Ray said lowly, almost angrily.

“No but you know who did, other than Karen?” You reached into your pocket and pulled an old thumb drive. “Outside my door this morning. I already checked it and it’s clean. No malware, no viruses, no tracking. Just a comparison of this Daredevil and the real Daredevil.”

After you left Matt the morning before work, you downloaded the footage from your mask. You found a few shots of Dex in the suit and downloaded those frames as pictures. You found a few old shots of Matt in the suit that matched the same framing and downloaded those as well.

“Do I wanna know who gave this to you?” He asked as he carefully took it.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” You shrugged. “Could be an amateur photographer. I know Jameson at the Bugle is always looking for freelancers. Just give me a chance to explain it all, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You hurried out of the room and found Karen and Foggy not too far across the office.

“Evans wouldn’t have come to Bulletin if I hadn’t threatened his son.” Karen said sadly.

“His son will be alright.” You said honestly as you joined them. “My cousin is gonna get in touch and let him know, give him some money and help him start over. It’s not ideal but he’ll be okay.”

“We need to find Matt and-“ Foggy tried.

“No, I’m gonna head to the hospital.” Karen cut in, her voice weak with regret and guilt.

“Call me if you need anything.” You offered on her way out and she nodded. You sighed softly before facing Foggy again and speaking quietly, pulling him a few steps to the side. “Matt’s okay. I checked on him last night.”

“You know where he is?” His brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I guess I always had a feeling. I took a chance and it worked out.. Anyway, he’s a little worse off than me but he’ll be fine.”

“You guys have anything?”

“Sort of.” Your head tilted back and forth. “I’ve got some ideas and a basic construct, but we’ve gotta go to the guy that made the suit in the first place.”

“Think he’ll talk?”

“Yeah, he’s a good enough guy. Fisk had to have twisted his arm to get him to go along with it.” You nodded. “I’m gonna look into it on my lunch, assuming he doesn’t go rogue and do it without me.”

“I’m glad you two are working together again. What does it mean for you two?.”

“I don’t know yet, but my priority is keeping you three safe. I don’t care what I have to do.”

“Y/N.” He sighed.

“Y/L/N!” Ray called from down the hall. “Back to work. Let’s go.”

You patted Foggy’s arm and headed back into the office, following Ray towards a meeting with the warden. Ray filled you in quickly on the walk that you two were going to figure out how Jasper got out in the first place.

Apparently fake books wasn’t the most obvious solution.

You sat on the edge of the desk while Ray handled most of the conversation.

“How did some just check the wrong box?” You chuckled. “If you can’t give me a legitimate path to investigate, it’s gonna fall on your head. Forging federal documents is a crime and you will be serving time if you don’t give us answers. And something tells me those prisoners would love to spend some time with you.”

He stared at you and Ray and you felt the panic. He knew he was cornered, but he was also a coward. Whatever Fisk held over him, it was worth a jail sentence.

“I want my lawyer.” He said finally.

You two were then sitting in the SAC’s office and running over what had just happened. You were quiet while Ray went over everything. He told her what happened with Karen, what Jasper was supposed to say, what happened with the warden.

“You believe Evans?” She looked to you.

“Why would he risk his life for a lie?” You shrugged. “And if the warden had nothing to hide, why bother with lawyers?”

“Alright. We gotta kick this up the chain. I’m calling the ADIC.”

“And tell him we don’t know all the facts?” Ray questioned quickly.

“There’s a damn good chance Fisk is manipulating us.”

“I warned you guys this would happen.” You muttered and crossed your arms.

“Shut it.” She pointed firmly to you.

“We need two days. Let us get all the facts.” Ray tried and you had to admit, you admired his determination. “When we can prove Fisk had been playing us, we can bury that son of a bitch together.”

“Leave him to fend for himself against all the people he’s burned.” You agreed.

She shooed you two away and said that you had forty eight hours. You and Ray went back to his office and were comparing the images from your thumb drive.

You pointed out the height differences. Dex had at least two inches on Matt. You showed the difference in jaw shape. Dex’s was more square compared to Matt’s rounded chin. The facial hair difference was clear. Dex stayed clean shaven while Matt opted for light scruff. Their builds were different too, slightly broader shoulders and a narrower waist on Matt. With the photos in front of him, Ray couldn’t deny that they were two different men.

Throughout the day, you learned that the FBI had raided a workshop where Melvin Potter was working, a man who had helped make suits and protection for Fisk. But that was the same man that made yours, Matt’s and now Dex’s suits. You heard talk of a second man there, but only Melvin was in custody. You felt terrible, knowing that when you went to Melvin on your own for help he was more than willing. Now, there was nothing you could do for him because Matt went without you.

You skipped going with Ray to talk to Fisk that night. You told him you didn’t want to see or hear anything from him. You didn’t feel like dealing with more lies so you just headed home. Ray asked if you wanted to come to a small promotion party, just so you didn’t have to be alone, but you politely declined.

You were just getting to your building when you got a call from Maggie asking if you knew where Matt had gone. You answered honestly, that you had no idea but you’d find him. You opened yourself to his emotions and found him, still on his way to wherever he was going. You hurried across town, stopping a few houses down from here you thought you tracked him to. You stripped off your jacket and button-up, threw on your long-sleeve top, and grabbed the mask and Bites from your glove box before hurrying to the right house.

“I’m Daredevil.. The real one.” Matt said when you got into the room. You hurried across and pulled him back by his shoulders to get him off Ray.

“Are you insane?” You asked quietly.

“You don’t look like-“ Ray began.

“I buried the red suit.” Matt cut in. “The man who attacked the Bulletin, he resurrected it.”

“You do, however, match the description of a guy who’s been tuning up FBI agents. Does Agent Y/N Y/L/N ring a bell?” Your head snapped to Ray as he continued. “Heard she kicked your ass so bad you ran off. Maybe I should call her.”

You smirked slightly and Matt threw a discreet elbow into your arm.

“It was the last thing I wanted, but you people-“ He pointed a finger in Ray’s face. You reached over and pulled his hand down, bending his finger back slightly to earn a groan. “-didn’t leave me any choice. If you’d just wake the hell up instead of playing into Fisk’s hands. He’s using you, and I think you know it.”

“You went after the guy at the Bulletin.” Ray turned to you. “You didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look at the other agents in that stairwell. Why?”

“Because I know who my partner is.” You put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “And I know who my enemies are. He would’ve killed you too, Agent Nadeem.”

“Who do you think the real danger is here?” Matt added. “Me or him?”

The conversation paused for a minute while Ray had to redirect his son back upstairs.

“Let’s say I believe the two that just broke into my house.” Ray said tightly. “What do you got?”

“The man who attacked the Bulletin dressed as Daredevil… He’s in the FBI.” Matt answered and you felt your blood rush down to your feet.

“What?” You asked quietly. “How do you know?” Matt looked over at you. “How do you know?”

“I found the man that made the suit. He told me that he didn’t know his name, but he knew he was in the FBI. So tell me, which of your agents has Fisk been especially interested in?”

You zoned out for the rest of the conversation. When you got a chance, you snuck out the door. You were quick to change and get back in your car. Instead of going home and ignoring it, you drove to the church. You headed downstairs and waited on the small bed until Matt got there.

“You already knew, didn’t you?” Matt challenged as he stepped inside, tossing his mask across the room while he went to wash his hands.

“You were supposed to wait for me.” You countered.

“Who is he?”

“Why would you think I know?” You stood.

“Who is he, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.” He turned to face you.

“Am I?” You tilted your head with a slight squint. “Or is it that you can’t tell so you’re trying to trap me?”

“Why are you protecting him?” He shouted and your jaw clenched. The worst part was that you didn’t know how to answer that.

You didn’t know if you were or if it was to protect Matt. If you took down Fisk, Dex would go down too. Start at the top and the bottom crumbles. Matt couldn’t face Dex on his own. He’d already proven that. He needed your help, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’m trying to protect you but you won’t listen to me!”

“Listen to you? Listen to you? Y/N, you’ve been lying to me! Why should I listen?”

“Cause you already know you can’t beat him without me.” You said simply, trying to gain some composure. “Whether or not you know his name, he will beat you every time. Next time, he will probably kill you.”

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“How was I supposed to do that?” You scoffed.

“You know how. It gets you everything you want, doesn’t it?”

“What, this?” You raised your brows and pulled fear to Matt’s surface, watching him cough and choke slightly before clearing it away. “I can’t control everyone.”

“That’s how you knew how to beat him.” He continued and you didn’t bother arguing. “Because you know exactly who he is.”

“I have an idea.” You said carefully.

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You know.”

You didn’t know why you were protecting Dex, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw his name out there. Maybe it was your own pride. You wanted to take him down yourself. Maybe it was just some loyalty to him as a partner or some pathetic hope that some sliver of a redeemable man was left.

“I don’t have any proof.” You said, which wasn’t a lie. But you did know how to get it.

“Y’know, I knew you were a good liar, but I didn’t think you’d lie to me.”

“Are you seriously talking to me about lying?” You laughed in disbelief. “You lied for how long about being dead?”

“That’s not the same!”

“No, you’re right. It’s worse!”

“My lie didn’t kill anyone!”

“It almost killed me.” You admitted. His brows furrowed as he faced you, trying to figure out what you meant. “The night after Midland, I thought about drowning myself in the tub. Almost did it, too. And the scar on my wrist that you were so interested in last night? Gunshot, nearly bled out from it. I almost died at the carousel because I didn’t care what happened to me.”

“I didn’t make you do that.” He said quietly.

“You didn't make me… You’re right. You didn’t. But you weren’t here to stop me either. And that was your choice. You always knew where to find me, Matt. But you hid out down here.”

“I’m not the one that can make people feel what she wants. You could’ve stopped them from trying to kill you. You could’ve stopped all of this!”

“You aren’t listening to me! You never listen to me!” You shouted and pushed him by his chest. “I only let my powers go so far, because if I don’t, then nothing‘s real.”

“How far did they go with me?” He asked suddenly, and the question seemed to shock him as much as it did you.

Matt realized it immediately after he said it. That was what he was looking for the night before. When he was thinking of what to say that’d be hurtful enough to break her, to push her away for good. It was the idea of challenging the validity of the relationship they had. He let out a small sigh when he realized that what he said had done more than hurt her. It shattered whatever was left of her heart, whatever had just been putting itself back together.

“What?” You asked softly.

“Was it ever real? My feelings for you.” He didn’t know why he kept going, but he did.

“Did you love me when I wasn’t around?” Your eyes fell to the floor as you backed away, a sharp pain stemming from your chest. “Did you still care about me before I came back?”

“Yeah…”

You swallowed the stinging sensation that was climbing your throat and lifted your eyes to Matt, taking careful steps forward. “Did you ever question it before you knew what I could do?”

He shook his head.

“There’s your answer… The worst part of my powers is not really knowing if I’m messing with someone or if it’s real. But I guess I know what it is with you. And I really wanted everything with us to be real. I was as honest as I knew how to be when it came to you, but you still can’t trust me.”

“Y/N, wait.” Matt realized he couldn’t go through with it. He couldn’t let her leave with that kind of hurt, not when it was his fault.

“No. No, you don’t get to try and pull a punch you’ve already thrown. You can’t backtrack this time..” You shook your head and turned to leave.

“I didn’t mean it, Y/N, please.”

“You always say what you mean, Matt. After everything I’ve done, I thought you would’ve trusted me by now. But y’know what, fine. You wanna be alone? Be alone.”

You turned on your heels and were storming towards the stairs to leave when you felt his hand on your wrist. You reached over with your free hand and twisted his arm over as you stepped underneath and behind him. You kicked out his front knee and forced him down, quickly moving one hand to press at the base of his shoulder. You pulled your knee back and as you drove it forward, his other hand came up to block it. You pulled your foot back again but threw it for a kick this time, only to have Matt catch it by your ankle.

He yanked your forward and you went stumbling, releasing his arm so your hands could catch yourself on the nearest marble statue.

“Would you just listen to me?” He tried as he got to his feet.

“Like you’ve been listening to me?” You laughed. “Like you listened when I begged you not to stay under Midland?”

“How many times do I have to apologize for that?” He asked loudly, throwing his hands to the side.

“I don’t want your apology. I want you to admit you were wrong.”

“I did what I thought would be better for you.”

You let out a loud sound of frustration and moved at him. You threw a roundhouse that he leaned away from but your momentum carried you around so you spun and shot a back kick that landed against his chest. As he stumbled, you did a quick shuffle to replace your feet and reset yourself to face him. Left jab that he knocked away. Right hook that he ducked. A small growl sounded from deep in your throat as you walked in a small circle around him. He kept his hands up in anticipation as he spun with you, trying to keep you in front of him.

“You think all of this is easy for me?” You asked plainly, feeling every inch of your skin burning with your newly soaked anger. “Easy having you alive. Easy having to go against someone I work with, someone who helped save my life. Karen and Foggy and Lantom and Maggie, all of them wanted me to build bonds and create relationships with people so I wasn’t alone anymore. Well, look where it got me!”

“This is why I stayed away, Y/N.” He tried.

“Bullshit.” You scoffed. “You were being selfish.”

“I knew you had a good life. I knew I would only mess it up.”

“You didn’t mess up my life by coming back. You messed it up when you left, when you betrayed me.”

His hands faltered and you used it to your advantage. You moved quickly and slammed a knee against his chest. It forced him back and he grabbed both of your upper arms to keep you close.

“I couldn’t have betrayed you.” He spoke with a gentle firmness, an honest plea for you to believe him. “I never meant to-“

“What we do isn’t an accident! You don’t accidentally stay under a falling building for your ex-girlfriend. You don’t accidentally stay away from your actual girlfriend for months. You don’t accidentally tell someone that you never really trusted them!”

“You think I ever wanted to hurt you?” He countered. “After knowing where you came from, what you were supposed to be and what your mission was, I thought it was only a matter of time before you hurt me.”

“You think I never sat there and wondered if you were pretending? I never thought I was worth anything more than a bullet.”

“I’ve cared about you since we met, Y/N. You were always worth that.”

“I wasn’t!” You placed the other foot against the wall and kicked off , turning you two so you could slam him to the ground. “I loved you!”

“And I still love you! It was real. I know it was. I know it because you brought something to my life that I can’t stand the thought of losing.”

“Then why would you ask if it was real?” You asked softly, heart twisting in your chest.

“I don’t know.” He admitted with a sigh.

“Liar!” You shouted and slammed a fist down.

He moved his head so your fist hit the ground and the impact jolted up your arm. You threw the punch again and again, hitting the same spot in the concrete until Matt rolled you two up to a sitting position. He put his hands on either side of your face in an effort to force your attention to him. He made a small noise of discomfort when his palms met your skin, likely due to the heat still radiating off you.

One hand was shaking, knuckles bruised and bloody from assaulting the hard ground, while the other gingerly held your injury. Reluctantly, your eyes met Matt’s and even though it seemed like he was looking through you, you knew he was focused on you.

“I was convinced…” He began softly and the gentle tone made the heat slowly dissipate. “I thought that I had to hurt you so you would leave. But I… I couldn’t do it, Y/N. I just couldn’t.”

“But you did.” You answered, your voice small and distant. You leaned away and got to your feet, ignoring the disappointment that you could feel coming from him.

Without another word, you left him on the floor.

The next day went about as expected. Ray was looking into a few agents, but he wouldn’t tell you much. You watched from the media room as he flipped through files before pulling the camera log from the wall behind him. You knew he had to have found the time when Dex had turned the cameras off, likely finding a time when you went in after him. You waited until Ray hurried out of the room before you followed. You claimed you were feeling dizzy from the head injury you had gotten at the Bulletin incident so no one tried to stop you. Instead, you grabbed your duffle from the trunk and took off.

You changed your work shirt for your vigilante top in the closest alleyway after following Ray’s car, waiting to watch him for a minute while you fitted your mask into place. He stood in the alley by himself for a minute, but you and Matt joined him at the same time.

“What’s his name?” Matt asked simply, turning his head towards your presence but saying nothing.

“I need to be sure about you two. You guys have a history of hurting people.” Ray said firmly, looking between you both.

“I want Fisk in prison.” You said honestly. “I don’t want to kill your agent, but if he insists on being in my way, I will go through him.”

“I’m not handing you a federal agent if you’re gonna kill him.”

“I’ll get to him whether you give him to me or not.” You stepped closer to Ray but Matt grabbed your wrist. You turned to face him as your skin grew warm. “Get your hand off me.”

“What happened to partners?” Matt asked quietly.

“That would mean you trust me.”

“C’mon, Ex. If this is about last night-”

“If you’re right about him, taking Fisk down is our job.” Ray cut in.

“Oh really?” Matt said flatly so you yanked your arm back. “Because we all know where he’s sleeping these days. But I understand.. If there’s one thing we agree on, Nadeem, it’s the greater good. Like house incarceration in exchange for good intel.”

“Not everyone will like the choices we make.” You added, keeping your voice level. “But it’s up to us to make those choices.”

Matt turned to you. “Sometimes you have to hurt one person to save them, and others.”

“Oh please.” You scoffed. “Just tell us the name, Agent.”

“I need your word that you won’t touch him.” Ray tried and you felt bad.

Dex was someone that Ray had trusted, someone Ray had worked with for a long time. Dex knew Ray’s family and they were friends. They were supposed to look out for each other. But now they found themselves on opposite sides of the law with vigilantes going after them. You wished there was a better way but you had to get Dex away from Fisk, otherwise you’d never lock the bastard back up.

“Our word can’t mean anything to you.” Matt reasoned.

“But I need to hear you give it.” Ray insisted.

“I need him to testify against Fisk, so you got it.” Matt said simply. “Her, too.”

“You don’t speak for me.” You countered. “But you won’t convince him to switch sides. Fisk has played too many games with him. One more switch and he snaps.”

“You know who he is?” Ray asked you and you gave a small shrug.

“It’s not hard to connect dots if you pay attention.”

“We’ll slip into his place, look for any evidence that ties him to the attack on the Bulletin and to Fisk.” Ray offered, clearly looking for a way to save Dex. “If we find any, we leave it where it is.”

“You can get around a search warrant if we set off the fire alarm.”

“Exactly. But if we don't find anything, the guy goes on with his life.”

“Spit it out.” Matt said plainly. “Who is he?”

You wondered if this attitude was due to your most recent conversation or if that was just who he was, and the softer night you two had was just a lapse in judgment. His accusations from the night before made you wonder if, subconsciously, you had manipulated Matt into that tender moment. Maybe the man you met in college truly was gone.

Maybe only the Devil remained.

“Special Agent Ben Poindexter.” Ray said tightly and you let out a small sigh.

Matt turned towards you and you knew there was accusation in his expression. He had to have remembered the name from when you talked about Dex before Midland Circle, when you were at Anvil and waiting to hear from the FBI. It had to have clicked in his head why you hid his identity.

Dex was your partner, your friend. He was there for you while Matt was gone. He wanted to fault you for it, and while he didn’t appreciate you hiding that from him, he wasn’t going to bring it up then.

Later that night, you were waiting for Matt on Dex’s fire escape.

You slid open the window when he got there and he moved to let Ray in the front door. You let them wander the apartment while you moved towards the safe in the closet. If he was keeping the suit in his place, that’s where it’d be.

“I can’t call a crew to crack that.” Ray sighed.

Matt moved forward and got to work on it.

“I know the combination. You don’t have to-” You spoke loudly, but Matt ignored you. “And you’re doing it anyway, Great.”

“Wait, he can do that?” Ray asked with wide eyes.

“Not if you two keep talking.” He answered tightly.

You mocked him quietly and tapped your mask. You let it load up before leaning closer to the safe. Your eyes searched each shelf but found nothing out of the ordinary.

“It’s not there.” You said quietly as Matt got the door unlocked.

The boys looked through the safe and found nothing they could use. You were turning to leave when you heard the click of a tape player. Turning back, you saw Matt with Dex’s cassette player in hand as one of his old therapy tapes played.

You sighed slightly and felt a sudden spike of panic.

“What did you leave Poindexter doing?” You asked Ray when you realized it was coming from the direction of the bureau. Your implant pinged in your head and you had a feeling it was Dex. But you couldn’t answer it in front of Ray, so you had to leave it alone.

“Talking to an attorney about a wrongful termination suit. Why?” Ray answered as Matt went through more tapes.

“Because something is going very wrong. He’s about to break.”

As they listened to more and more tapes, you paced the apartment anxiously. The longer you were there, the closer that panic and instability got. When Matt looked towards the door, you tapped your mask and saw Dex coming down the hall.

“Убирайся.” You told them, giving Matt a shove. “Both of you. Out, now. He’s here.”(Get out.)

“You should go.” Matt told Ray.

“No, we had a deal. No evidence means you two don’t touch him!” He insisted.

“I found evidence.” Matt tried.

You groaned slightly as the two argued back and forth. You cracked the door slightly and saw Dex pulling glass adornments off the nearest light fixture. You cursed yourself quietly and shut the door again before grabbing both men by the collars and shoving them out the window.

“Go, now.” You said firmly. “I’ve got the best chance if we’ve gotta fight him.”

“What- Fight him? You said-“ Ray tried but you raised a hand and forced fear to the surface to get him to run.

“Make sure he gets out of here.” You told Matt when he hesitated. “Don’t make me make you.”

“Ex, don’t.” He tried but you did the same to him. But instead of fear, you pulled his betrayal to the surface.

Matt knew it was you. He knew what he was feeling wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t enough to make him abandon you, to leave you to stand against Poindexter on your own. But that didn’t make the urge any easier to fight. So he ran.

When you heard the door sneaking open, you moved the fire escape and pressed your back against the wall. You pulled a knife from your belt and angled it so you could watch his movements. He crept through his apartment carefully, noting the misplaced items and tapes scattered across the table.

“Show yourself.” He called out and you glanced above to find Matt and Ray, but you found no one. It made you wish you had stuck Matt with another comms piece, but blind faith would have to do for the moment. “I know you’re out there.”

One of the glass sticks came flying out and bounced off the railing in front of to knock into your blade. You gasped slightly and stuck your foot out so it landed against you rather than the metal of the fire escape.

“I can see you.” He called as you knelt to pick it up.

“How can you see me from over there?” You answered as you stood carefully. With a blade in one hand, you pulled your gun with the other.

“I was lying. Did you really fall for that?” He replied and you made a face to yourself before stepping out.

Your gun was raised and the hand with the knife braced your wrist. He stood tense with another piece in hand and ready to throw.

“Well done. Not many people are bold enough to lie to me. What’s your name?” You asked.

“You first, then maybe I’ll do the same.” He nodded towards you.

“Nice try.” You smiled. “But two can play this game, and I have a feeling that I’m better at it than you are.”

“Don’t be so modest. I know you’re that vigilante. Let’s be honest here. You’re Exodus.” His body language relaxed a little as you stared him down, picturing the tension fall away like melted snow. “Badass out in Hell’s Kitchen. Unmatched so far, witty, and brains behind some of the best strategies he’s seen.”

“If you’re looking for a mentor, Dex, I can make sure your time is well spent. I can put you to better use than Fisk can. I’ve never been to prison so it’s not like I’ve gotten caught.”

“That’s your plan?” He chuckled in disbelief. “You and me, best friends?”

“We’ll see how it ends.” You shrugged.

“Okay.” He scoffed. “Wait.. How’d you know my name?”

“I’ve done my research. Ever since you attacked the Bulletin a few nights ago but didn’t kill me and you bragged like you knew me. Like you knew my story with the real Daredevil. I wanted to know who I would be up against. You’re good, I’ll admit it. Fisk made a good choice in picking you, an elite FBI SWAT sniper. And your partner, Y/N. She had some nice words to say, but she’s worried about you.”

“Y/N?” His brows furrowed and the tension rose again. “What did you do to her?”

“We just talked. She wants to save you from yourself.”

“That why she didn’t answer her phone? Did you hurt her?”

“No. But she is a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” You offered a wicked smile and his anger grew sharply.

“Leave her out of this.”

“Should I leave Julie out of it, too?” You mocked.

“What did you do to her?” He shouted.

“Nothing.” You answered innocently. “Yet.”

His head cocked as he silently questioned if you were serious. You took the chance to fire a bullet just over his shoulder, close enough to graze the material of his jacket. When he dropped to the floor, you rushed up the fire escape and slipped into the apartment above. You found Matt and Ray and were able to get them to the ground just as the bullets came in.

“The shot came from across the alley.” Ray said through heavy breathing. Looking over, you saw he was hit.

You were quick to kneel beside him and pull off a glove. You looked to Matt and took in his anger so you could push it to the palm of your hand. You pressed the palm against Ray’s side and he groaned loudly as the faint smell of burnt skin permeated the apartment. It wouldn’t heal the wound but it would at least slow the bleeding.

“I think it came from downstairs.” Matt countered.

“He’s ricocheting the bullets.” You confirmed, ignoring the look Ray gave you. “I’ve seen him do it a hundred times. If he can see you, he can hit you.”

Matt threw a newspaper and rolled to the other side, hiding behind a bookcase. He was talking to you about how many shots Dex had left and the fact that the cops were called when you looked around and realized something. Even from your angle behind the sofa, you could see Matt in the mirror on the door.

“The mirror.” You said to yourself and Ray noticed it at the same time.

You looked around and found a book on the coffee table. You pulled your arm back and threw it as hard as you could against the mirror, watching the reflective surface shatter when the next round of bullets came in. When Matt said to run, you helped Ray out the door before sliding to sit under the window sill. Using your mask to see the floor below, you saw Dex moving to the fire escape.

You pushed Matt out first and as you were climbing out, you saw Dex coming up the steps. You grabbed both railings and kicked both feet against his chest to send your partner tumbling back down. Matt turned around but you pushed for him to keep going. You heard the climbing stop below you just before Matt grabbed your arms and switched positions so he could block the glass sticks being thrown with a trash can lid.

You two were reaching the roof when one piece came up and cut the strap of your mask, nicking your ear in the process. You grabbed the railing and leaned over to catch it, only to make eye contact with Dex. His arm was already drawn back to throw another one but he froze, eyes wide as he saw you.

You could see him mouth your name but you were too far away to hear it. But you weren’t far enough to miss the heavy hit of betrayal against your chest. You didn’t know what to do but when you saw Dex’s features illuminated by the police flashlights, you snapped from your daze and hurried onto the roof. You paced the area in a panic with your mask tightly in your fist.

“Hey.” Matt said when he realized what was happening. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“He knows.” You said quickly. “He knows who I am.”

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

Text

Splitting Images

Written for the Phic Phight prompt: Instead of giving Danny ghost powers, the portal accident lets Danny see the overlap of the Ghost Zone with the real world. This includes not being able to tell the difference between ghosts and living people. (from @pupstim)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for hospitals, bullying, and mentions of suicide]

When the portal had turned on with Danny inside, the only thought that had managed to form in his head before he was too flooded with pain to think anything, was that there was no way he would be able to come back out alive.

Then he'd woken up in a hospital bed six days later.

Maybe it was because he was still disoriented from the accident, but he didn't think hospital rooms were supposed to be this crowded. His mother was sitting by his bedside reading a science magazine, and that made sense. But there were also several total strangers surrounding his bed. An elderly man, a young woman with frazzled hair and a tiny baby in one arm, a girl Danny's age with no hair, another teenager with spiked up hair, all of them wearing hospital gowns.

"Oh good, he's awake!" said the woman brightly. She wrapped her free arm around the bald girl and pulled her into a side hug. "Not that I don't love you kids, but it's always such a shame when young people like him join our ranks."

Danny made a noise of confusion, but it turned into a cough, startling his mother.

"Danny!" She gasped, putting her magazine down right away and grabbing a water bottle off a table. She unscrewed the lid and lifted his head to help him drink some. "Here, drink up," she said. "Your throat must be dry. Oh thank goodness you're awake, sweetie, you had us so worried!"

"Who're they?" Danny groaned, lifting his chin in the direction of the strangers. His mom turned to look behind her, then back to him, her face confused. The strangers looked confused too, for some reason.

"Who?" she asked, then shook her head. "Nevermind. I have to call your dad and tell him your awake, and Jazz too." She pulled out her phone and started dialing. Once she put her phone to her ear she started talking again. "Oh, I'm just so, so happy you're awake. It was touch and go there for a while. The doctors said they were doing everything they could, but not to get our hopes too high. Even once you were stable, they said they had no idea when you'd wake up. But here you are, awake. You have no idea how relieved I am."

"What happened?" Danny asked.

"You went into the portal and—one moment, you're father's on," she interrupted herself. "I'm putting you on speaker, dear," she said into the phone before doing just that. "Jack, honey, Danny's awake! He woke up just now. Say hi, Danny!"

"Hi, Danny," the boy said automatically and she frowned at him.

"Sweetie, you just woke up from a coma. You can't be a little more serious?"

"Oh, sorry," Danny put on a stern expression. "Hello, Daniel," he said, and both his parents laughed.

"Danny-boy, I can't tell you how good it is to hear your voice," his father said. "Hold on a moment, I'm going to get Jazz!"

A minute later, Jazz was weeping over the phone at hearing her brother, alive, and awake, and already cracking stupid jokes. His mom pressed the 'call nurse' button, and let them know that Danny was awake and responsive. The doctor came in to check Danny over, and determined that he would be able to leave in two days.

Through all of this, the strangers remained. Well, more or less. Some of them left, while other, different strangers arrived. Neither Danny's mom, nor the doctors or nurses ever acknowledged any of them, but Danny watched them from the cornor of his eye. He heard them whispering. Tried to listen in.

"Is he looking at us?"

"Do you think?"

"No, of course he isn't! How could he be?"

"Well, what else could he be looking at?"

When things died down once more, Danny asked his mother again what exactly had happened.

"Oh, well, you went into the portal."

"Yeah, I remember that part," Danny said. "I think I touched some exposed wiring and completed a circuit or something. What happened after that."

"You were electrocuted," his mother said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "The portal that we thought was a dud turned on with you still inside. We all heard you screaming and rushed down into the lab. When the screaming stopped, we feared the worst, but then a few moments later, you fell out of the portal. You didn't have a heartbeat, but I performed CPR and revived you. Jazz called an ambulance. We got you to the hospital. Your heartbeat was still weak, and you were having some convulsions. The doctors managed to stabilize you. You were in a coma for six days, and then, just a few hours ago, you woke up. And that's what happened."

Danny nodded. He looked over at the strangers again.

"And who are they?" he asked, and again, she followed his line of sight before looking back at him with confusion and mild concern.

"I... I don't know who you mean, sweetie," she told him gently. "There's nobody there."

"Oh," Danny said, looking back and forth between his mother and the strangers. "But—"

"I think you should get some rest, Danny," his mom interrupted him, gently pushing him back so he was laying down in the bed again. "It's getting late, and you're still healing."

"You should go home and rest too," Danny told her. "I'm sure you haven't slept much, worrying about me. You can come back and see me in the morning."

"Well...." she looked like she wanted to argue. "Alright. Alright. I won't be the insufferably overbearing helicopter parent; I'll go home. But I'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Okay, mom," Danny said, and he closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep while Maddie gathered up her things, kissed his forehead, and then left. After the door closed behind her, Danny waited a few minutes before sitting up and looking directly at the strangers still standing in his room. "Who are you?"

"I told you he could see us!" said the young woman. She'd been there from the beginning, only leaving for a little while, earlier in the day, before returning, still holding the tiny newborn in her arms.

"Can you actually see us?" asked a middle aged man, sounding shocked.

"What do you mean?" Danny asked, frustrated. "Of course I can see you, you're standing right there. Now, who are you? And why are you in my hospital room?"

"My name is Emily," the young woman with the baby introduced. "This is baby Pearl. That's Joseph, Max, and Lila," she pointed to the middle aged man, then to a teenage boy who'd also been in Danny's room earlier for a little while, but left and returned just a few minutes ago, and finally to a girl of about six years who sat criss-cross on the empty bed next to him.

"We're ghosts!" Lila said with a bright smile as she waved cheerfully at him.

"What do you mean you're ghosts?" Danny asked. Max started to explain the concept of ghosts to him, with utmost sarcasm, but Danny cut him off. "I know what a ghost is. I just mean, why are you here?"

"Because we died here," Max said with a scoff. "Tons of people die in hospitals, and we weren't particularly attached to anything else, so this became our haunt. Better question is, 'how can you see us?'"

"I... I have no idea."

When Danny got to go home a couple days later, he tried to forget about the ghosts. It was entirely probable that he was just hallucinating from the stress. He had almost died, after all—in fact, he had actually died for at least a few minutes, and he had every right to still be stressed about it. There was even a chance he was still in a coma, and the ghosts were just a dream he was having.

After he left the hospital, he didn't see anymore ghosts, though. Hospitals had always made him a little nervous, not as nervous as they made Tucker, but nervous. Maybe it was just the anxiety from the location that made him see things. At least everything at home was normal. Well, normal for the Fenton household, anyway. Hot dogs coming to life and attacking, Danny could deal with, but ghosts only he could see? No, thanks.

After another week of rest and recovery at home—during which he finally got to see Sam and Tucker again and they hugged him so tightly they almost broke his ribs and added another month to his recovery time—Danny's parents finally let him go back to school.

Casper High was... more crowded than Danny remembered it being. Granted, he'd only gone to high school for a week before he suddenly wound up in the hospital, but he didn't think the student body was this big. It also looked like the fifties had come back into style while he was in a coma. A lot of girls had started wearing poodle skirts and saddle shoes, and most of the guys had their hair gelled back, greaser style. Danny idly wondered if he could pull that off, or if he'd just look stupid. Probably the latter.

He guessed the kids who'd really leaned into the fifties fad were also the troublemakers, because almost all of them cut class ninety percent of the time. If they kept that up, they were bound to be held back a year. Frankly, it was amazing that they got away with it most of the time. The fifties kids were also pretty mean.

They kept picking on this one other kid with big glasses and an overbite. Danny was walking to class with Sam and Tucker, listening to Sam's passionate rant about how unethical live-frog dissections were and how she couldn't believe the school still did them. He saw a girl in a poodle skirt trip the one kid they all bullied in the hall, sending him sprawling on the ground, and Danny couldn't just stand by.

"Gimme a sec," Danny said. "I'll meet you in class."

"Huh?" Sam cocked her head. "Uh, sure, Danny." He waved them off and went to give the kid a hand.

"Are you okay?" Danny asked, helping him to his feet.

"Oh, yeah, I'm used to it," the boy responded, then he looked up at Danny's face and jumped with shock. "Jiminy Christmas, you're alive!" the boy yelped.

"What? Of course I'm—" Danny stopped himself, his eyes widening. "Wait... you don't mean you're..."

"Oh, I'm a ghost," said the boy, offering his hand. "Sidney Poindexter. And you are?"

Danny looked around to make sure no one was looking before shaking Sidney's hand. He knew that it would look crazy to any onlookers. "Danny Fenton." Sidney's hand was cold and clammy, but it felt very solid and real in Danny's own. If he hadn't been told, Danny never would've thought he was a ghost. In fact, he hadn't. For almost a week now. "So... is everyone in fifties fashion a ghost?"

"Well yeah, we... wait... you mean you can't tell?" Sidney asked, astonished. Danny shook his head hesitantly.

"You look pretty real to me," Danny said. "I'm a little new to the whole 'seeing ghosts' thing. I guess I haven't figured out how to tell the difference as well as, you know, other ghost-seers you might've met."

"Oh, I've never met anyone else like you," Sidney assured him. A fifties jock slapped Sidney on the back as he walked by so hard that the kid nearly fell on his face again, but Danny caught him. "Thanks."

"He didn't seem too surprised that we were talking," Danny observed.

"I don't think he could see you," Sidney said. "You see, I'm the only real ghost in this armpit. The only one who was human and died. The rest of them are fabrications of my curse. I'm trapped in the school, cursed to never leave, and to be bullied for all eternity."

"That's... wow, that's a major—" another fifties kid came by and kicked Sidney in the rear with a wicked laugh—"bummer," Danny cringed. When Sidney turned to look at his assailant with a frown, Danny saw the 'kick me' sign on his back and peeled it off. He showed it to Sidney when he turned back. "The jock probably stuck it to you when he slapped you on the back."

"Probably," Sidney took the sign sadly and looked at it for a moment before crumpling it up and throwing it over his shoulder. "I should know better by now, shouldn't I?" he said. "I mean, it's been almost fifty years. No one just slaps me on the back. There's always some kind of prank involved. I'm just a little washed out at this point."

"You're blaming yourself for this?" Danny asked, astonished. "Getting bullied is totally not your fault." The bell rang, and Danny realized he'd gotten so caught up talking to the ghost that he was now late for second period. "Crap, late for class! I gotta go!"

He took off running to his classroom, and by the time he got there he was wheezing so hard he thought he might suffocate. Two weeks of strict bed rest had done absolutely nothing for his already sub optimal athleticism. He doubled over, using the door frame to hold himself up.

"Mr. Fenton," Lancer greeted. "Nice of you to join us. Would you care to take a seat?" Danny put a finger up, wordlessly asking the teacher to give him a minute to recover.

"Holy moly," Sidney remarked from behind him, apparently having followed Danny to class. "Looks like you're even more of a wimp that I am."

"Gimme—a break," Danny wheezed. "I was—just—in a—coma—for a week." Danny gagged on his tongue for a moment, but eventually, he recovered enough to get back to his seat, breathing heavily as he sat down.

"Very well, Mr. Fenton," Lance agreed. He hadn't heard Sidney, and so he'd thought Danny had been trying to get out of detention for being tardy. "Since this is your first transgression of the year, and you only recently got out of the hospital, I'll let it slide, but don't deceive yourself by thinking I'll do so again. I expect you to arrive to class on time in the future."

"Yes, Mr. Lancer," Danny said, glad that he could finally get a full sentence out, however short it was.

His stint in the hospital, or more likely, the accident that had put him there, had done him absolutely no favors, physically speaking. He probably shouldn't have run in the first place, since he had something called a heart murmur now, along with some other cardiac problems that had been caused by the portal accident. The doctor had written him a pass to get out of gym for the entire year because he was apparently in danger of his heart straight up stopping if he put too much stress on it. So yeah. He'd try to get to class on time in the future.

Danny put a hand on his chest to assure himself that his heart was still beating, since apparently, he could no longer trust himself to know when someone was alive or dead, or even something else entirely. His heart thumped hard and irregularly against his chest, and he sighed quietly in relief. He kept his hand against his chest for several minutes longer, until it finally slowed, just to make sure.

"What were you in a coma for?" Sidney asked, and Danny straightened up in his seat, startled by the ghost he'd forgotten was there. Lancer was mid-lecture now, but Danny's seat was in the back row.

"Entertainment value," he whispered jokingly, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear. "But no, actually, I was in a lab accident."

"What sorta lab accident?" Sidney pressed.

"Can we talk when I'm not in the middle of class?" Danny asked back, just loud enough that Tucker looked over from the seat next to him, eyebrows quirked in concern.

"You good, dude?" he asked quietly. Danny nodded, trying to appear as normal as possible. Realistically, he knew he didn't look any different than before, but he felt like he had a big, neon, Fenton Works-style sign on his forehead that told everyone he was a freak who was talking to a ghost.

"Alright, we'll talk later," Sidney said. "I wouldn't want you to get in a pickle."

Later, during Danny's free period that used to be gym, he met Sidney in an empty classroom to talk. He told the ghost about the portal accident, leaving out most of the gory details, and explained that when he'd woken up, suddenly he could see ghosts, even though he never could before.

"Well that's pretty amazing," Sidney said. "I've never heard of something kooky like that happening before."

"What about you?" Danny asked. "How'd you end up cursed?"

"Oh... I was a coward," Sidney said.

"What do you mean?"

"I... well... back when I was alive, my life was just like this," Sidney explained. "I was the weakling, the loser, the geek. Everyone at school bullied me. They'd crack jokes about picking on me being a graduation requirement, and even goad the shy kids and the nice kids into doing it." He frowned at the floor, hands fidgeting with each other. "I went to grown ups and teachers, but none of them did anything about it.

"They told me not to fight back and wait for the bullies to lose interest, or that I should try not being so weak, or that I should toughen up and turn the other cheek. They never even tried to tell the other students to leave me alone, not one person did. Eventually, I just couldn't take it anymore," Sidney said. "I took the coward's way out. And for my cowardice, I was cursed."

"What exactly to you mean you 'took the coward's way out'?" Danny asked, though he had a gnawing feeling in his gut that he didn't really want to know the answer.

"The flagpole in front of the school is thirty-five feet tall," Sidney said. "Other kids ran me up that thing more times than I can count, they still do. One day, after I'd given up, I decided not to wait for someone else to come get me down, like I usually did. I cut the rope and just... took a dive, headfirst onto the pavement."

"You..."

"That's the coward's way out," Sidney finished solemnly. "And this is my punishment for thinking all I had to do was kill myself to escape my awful life."

"That's..." Danny didn't know what to say. He'd never been suicidal before, but he was doubly not suicidal now, if this was what happened afterwards. "That's so unfair!" Danny finally shouted. "Suffering Hell on Earth wasn't enough, now you have to suffer it in death because you did something desperate to get away from it?! That's messed up!"

"That's the way it is," Sidney said with a shrug. "And there's no changing it."

"Like hell there isn't!" Danny argued. "You don't deserve this! I'm not gonna let it continue."

"And what are you gonna do to change it?" Sidney asked, clearly only humoring Danny. "You've got a witch or a warlock who can break curses?"

"Well, no," Danny admitted, slumping, but he brightened again when he remembered what he did have. "But I've got a goth friend who's really into the occult! We'll figure it out."

"It won't work," Sidney said with a dour shake of his head. "I've been stuck here for almost fifty years. You can't end my eternal punishment with a little occult research and plucky determination."

"I can at least try!" Danny insisted. "Look, maybe it's just coincidence that I can see ghosts now. Maybe there's no greater purpose or higher calling, but even if there isn't, I can't sit here and watch you suffer without at least trying to stop it!"

"I appreciate the thought, Danny, but honestly, just being able to talk to someone who'll take the 'kick me' sign off of my back is good enough," Sidney assured him. "Even if you can't break the curse, you've already made my miserable afterlife a little better just by seeing me."

"Yeah, but I won't be going to Casper High forever. In four years, I'll be out of here, and you'll be back to suffering alone, and I'm not gonna let that happen. Not if I can help it."

"Well..." Sidney still looked dubious about the idea, but Danny could tell he was breaking through. He was giving this downtrodden ghost some hope, his first in fifty years. "Alright. Where do we start?"

The warning bell rang.

"I guess I start by getting back to class," Danny said, standing up and grabbing his backpack. "I'll talk to Sam about post-death curses later today and see if I can find anything out that might help. See you later, Sid."

"Sid?" the ghost echoed.

"Oh, sorry, it's a nickname," Danny said. "I wasn't really thinking about it. If you don't like it, I won't call you—"

"I like it!" Sidney said quickly. "I like it. It's just... I never had any friends, so no one's ever given me a nickname before. Not one that wasn't mean-spirited, anyway."

"Well, now you do," Danny smiled at him. "You shouldn't've said that though, because now I'm gonna call you exclusively by nicknames. Sid. Sid the Kid. I don't know, Kidney? Basically, I'm never gonna call you by your real name ever again." Sidney laughed and Danny waved goodbye as he walked to class, thankful he didn't have to run again.

After school, he met up with Sam and Tucker at the Nasty Burger, and he asked his goth friend about curses. She didn't have a single question before she enthusiastically launched into a rand about a book she'd picked up at the Skulk and Lurk about curses and all the various methods of casting and using them.

"What about curses after death?" Danny asked. "Could someone be cursed to, I don't know, be tormented forever in the afterlife?"

"Oh yeah!" Sam nodded, and Tucker groaned, shooting Danny a dirty look.

"You just had to get her going, didn't you?" he moaned, but Danny was more focused on Sam, rambling on about how the souls of the dead were punished for their transactions according to various cultures.

"Of course, being Jewish, I don't believe in the Christian Hell, or eternal torment," Sam said. "In Judaism, or at least the version I practice, there is Sheol instead. Sheol isn't eternal, like hell is. It's just a necessary stopping point for sinners and troubled souls on their journey to olam habah—the world to come. It's the place where they have to, like, reflect and work through the issues they had during life, and grow past them in order continue on toward olam habah."

"So like, if they were a coward in life, then in Shoal they have to learn how to stand up for themselves in order to move on?" Danny asked.

"Sheol," Sam corrected, "and sure, I guess. That's what I always thought, anyway. There's no single, definitive picture of the afterlife, so different people think of it and understand it in different ways, and believe different things. If that's how you think it works, then sure, why not?"

"Okay... cool," Danny said, looking down at the table thoughtfully. Obviously he wouldn't know until he tried, but the Sheol theory was a promising start.

"Hey, Danny," Sam suddenly said in a soft, overly kind voice. "Are you asking about the afterlife because of what happened? Is this you coming to terms with your own mortality or something like that?"

"What?"

"Because you're not gonna die," she said, gentle, but nonetheless absolutely firm. "No matter how weak your heart is or what the doctors said, you're not going to die."

"I'm not afraid of dying, Sam," he assured her. "Well, I am, but like, a normal, reasonable amount, and not a concerning amount."

"And how much do you consider a reasonable amount?" Tucker asked, side-eyeing his friend. Danny thought back to when he'd run to class earlier and spent easily ten minutes feeling his heartbeat just to make sure it was still there. Under the table, he found his pulse-point on his wrist. Still beating. Still alive.

"Uh... I would put my fear of death somewhere above clowns, and below my house catching on fire," he said after a moment, and maybe that was true, or maybe it wasn't, but he honestly couldn't have said which it was. "I was mostly wondering because now that the portal's actually working, Mom and Dad have been even more gung-ho about ghosts, and it's got me curious. Obviously, I'm not gonna ask them, though, because they'd talk my ear off about it even more that Sam would."

"Hey!" Sam complained, throwing a fry at him. "At least I wait until someone asks!"

"Which is why I asked," Danny said with a shrug. "Anyway, did you see that new game that just dropped? Doomed? It looks pretty interesting. I think I'm gonna get it. What do you guys think?"

"Oh totally!" Tucker agreed. "I already bought a copy. I haven't had the chance to play it yet, but it looks like it's right up my alley!"

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, leaning her head in her hand. "Tell me about it. Maybe I'll get it, too, and we can play together." And just like that, the conversation had moved away from death and curses and Danny had successfully outmaneuvered his friends' concern.

The next day at school, Sidney met Danny at the front door with a smile, and Danny took him to a more sequestered area of the school where they could talk without people looking at Danny like he was going insane. Although, he still wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't going insane, himself.

"I don't know if it'll work, but I figured out something you can try," Danny told the ghost, happy to have found a possible solution so soon. "I asked Sam about curses and the afterlife, and she told me about she-uh, Sheol, I think it was, which is a Jewish thing. Basically the concept is, when you die, you go to this in-between place to deal with all your issues before you can go to Heaven... or, whatever the Jewish version of Heaven was. Sam said it, but I suck so bad at remembering Hebrew words."

"So what exactly are you saying?" Sidney asked. "I'm not Jewish, you know."

"There's no way I could've known that, but that's not the point. The point is, it got me thinking! If the reason you're cursed like this is because you were a coward, maybe the way to break the curse is to stop being a coward!"

"Oh, slice of pie, then," Sidney said sarcastically. "Are you completely off the wall? If I could just stop being a coward, I never woulda been in this situation in the first place!"

"It's okay," Danny put a hand on the ghost's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze, "because, I've got your back."

"You do?"

"Of course I do! We're friends, aren't we?"

Sidney smiled. "Okay." The warning bell rang.

"I gotta get to class," Danny said, letting him go. "During free period, okay, Sid? I'll be right there with you."

"You'd better be!" Sidney called after him as he headed to first period.

Danny's free period came with Tucker moaning about how lucky Danny was not to have to do P.E. anymore, and Danny split off when his friend got to the locker room. Then he made a beeline for Sidney.

"So what's the plan?" the ghost asked him once they were away from prying eyes.

"We go to the cafeteria, and then when someone tries to bully you, you call them out," Danny said. "And I'll be there for moral support."

"Okay, but... what do I say?"

"Oh, you know this one," Danny waved a hand flippantly. "Just say what you've always wanted to say to a bully."

"I've never wanted to say anything to a bully that they'd whomp me for," Sidney answered flatly.

"Okay, how about this," Danny proposed. "Imagine that instead of being bullied yourself, you saw somebody bullying me. What would you say then?"

Sidney opened his mouth, and then snapped it shut, blinking thoughtfully. "I think then I'd give 'em a piece of my mind."

"There you go! Now, come on! Time to put the plan into action."

"Right!" Passing period was over, and the two of them went to the cafeteria without running into anyone living.

As soon as they walked in the door, someone stuck their foot out to trip Sidney and he stumbled. His first reaction was to hang his head and keep walking, but Danny cleared his throat meaningfully and gestured to the bully. Sidney nodded, stood up straight, and turned around to face him.

"Hey!" Sidney yelled. "Y-you'd better quit picking on me!"

"Or what?" the guy scoffed. Sidney looked at Danny for help, and Danny gave him a thumbs up and gestured for him to keep going.

"Well I... I hate bullies!" Sidney shouted. "Y-you'd better lay off or I'll see how you like a t-taste of your own medicine!" Danny mimed shoving someone, and so Sidney copied the motion, shoving the guy who'd tripped him against the wall. Sidney's mouth gaped in astonishment. He couldn't believe he'd actually just done that. He squared his shoulders and looked the bully right in the eyes. "A-and there's more where that came from!"

Despite the stammer, Sidney had actually done it. He'd stood up to one of his tormentors, and he hadn't gotten walloped for it, either. Rather, all the other ghosts in the cafeteria cheered.

"Yeah! Stick it to 'em Poindexter!" one girl shouted. Another whistled and whooped.

A smile found its way onto Sidney's face as the vestiges of classmates who'd once driven him to take his life encouraged and congratulated him. Sidney looked around at all the clapping hands and proud faces as the other ghosts started fading away, one by one. His eyes finally landed on Danny, clapping with the rest of them, and even more proud.

"You did it, Sid!" Danny congratulated, stilling his hands as the clapping died off. "How's it feel."

"It feels damned good!"

"Haha!" Danny rushed forward and hugged Sidney tightly. Upon letting his new friend go, he couldn't resist flashing a smug grin. "Am I the best curse-breaker, and greatest friend ever, or what?"

"You absolutely beat all!" Sidney agreed.

They celebrated by taking a walk around the block. Now that the curse was broken, Sidney wasn't stuck inside the school, and he could go wherever he wanted. Danny showed him all the things that had changed nearby since 1958, and Sidney pointed out all the ghostly things Danny hadn't realized were ghostly.

"Can you see that motorcycle, and that couple?" Sidney asked, pointing to a bike parked on the street and a punk couple canoodling as they leaned against it.

"Yeah," Danny said. "Wait, are they ghosts too?"

"Yup," the ghost confirmed. "What about that house?"

"That wasn't always there?"

"I dunno, but it's definitely a ghost house."

"I thought I could only see like, ghosts, not ghost houses and ghost motorcycles and stuff," Danny said. "I didn't even realize."

"You said that you were in an accident in a portal to the Ghost Zone," Sidney recalled. "Maybe that accident allowed you to see the parts of the Ghost Zone that cross over into the real world. I was stuck in a Ghost Zone version of Casper High, which is in the real world. That house must exist in both the real world and the Ghost Zone. That couple probably died in Amity Park."

"So... what exactly does that mean for me?" Danny asked. "Am I supposed to help all these people work through their issues and move on fully into the Ghost Zone?"

"I don't know," Sidney said. "I think no one knows what they're supposed to do, really. I didn't know I was supposed to stand up for myself. You don't know what you're supposed to do with your new ability. Maybe the only thing we're supposed to do is our best. Maybe all we're supposed to do is try."

Danny nodded, considering. "Yeah... I can do that."

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #fic #things i wrote #danny phantom #dp #danny fenton #sidney poindexter #dp au #suicide tw

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amberlynnmurdock · 5 months

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don't judge me but are there any ben poindexter fics ?? please it's for science again

#why do i now have an idea for a fic where Matt saves reader from... omg #matt murdock #daredevil #benjamin poindexter #poindex #bullseye #wilson bethel

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foxesjostens · 11 days

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i love you (it’s ruining my life)

Derek Nurse is not ignoring his best friend. How can you avoid your D-man partner when you live and breathe the same schedule? No, Derek Nurse is not ignoring William Poindexter, and William Poindexter definitely did not try to kiss him last night. Nope. To recap, Derek Nurse is definitely not ignoring his best friend for trying to kiss him.

read here

#mine #check please #check please fic #nurseydex #derek nursey nurse #derek nurse #nursey #william poindexter #william dex poindexter #dex #nurseydex fic #ao3 #omgcheckplease #omgcp

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bestatsavingface · 1 year

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Not Too Late (To Pick up the Pieces)

Summary: A series of vignettes about Dex's life on the autism spectrum.

Notes: eventual NurseyDex, friendship fic, focus on self-discovery and acceptance.

"I get my hair cut once a month." The admission leaves Dex's mouth before he has time to think twice, and the regret is instant when both Nursey and Shitty gasp dramatically at it. He knows they're teasing in the 'good way', but it still makes his stomach twist like every reminder that he does things in ways no one else seems to do.

"There's no way your hair grows fast enough to warrant a trim every month, brah."

Nursey's not totally wrong, but Dex has learned through years of experience that he can't go more than 36 days between haircuts before his hair grows just long enough to tickle his ears and neck constantly. The sensation is so overwhelming to him even as he grew up that the summer he sprained his ankle in junior high he'd ended up taking his father's shaver and buzzing his entire head when he couldn't walk the five blocks to the barber.

But Dex isn't about to explain that to half the hockey team who's just settling into breakfast. "It grows enough," he says instead, earning an eye roll from Nursey. "I just prefer it, why do I need to wait til it reaches some arbitrary length when I could just put it on my schedule every month instead?"

Shitty sighs, reaching over and running a hand lightly through Dex's hair. Years of practice is all that stops him from flinching away from the touch, but he does give Shitty an annoyed glare in reply. "Dex, my crimson compadre, don't you think you're denying yourself what could be some gorgeous locks? What's the longest you ever had it, bro?"

Dex debates on telling the truth because he knows it'll just spur them on but he's not a big fan of lying over little things. "I had it to my shoulders when I was really little," Nursey and Shitty both start to exclaim but he cuts them off. "It's the in-between period, that's what really bothers me. If I could wake up one day and my hair is shoulder length again maybe I'd keep it but I'm not gonna put myself through months of annoying and awkward hairstyles to get there."

There's a murmur of agreements and dissents, and Dex is ready to let the conversation die and never bring up his hair habits again when Holster and Ransom sit down next to him, the blond and his breakfast including an ungodly amount of hardboiled eggs between him and Ransom. "What are we talking about?" Holster asks before shoving an entire egg into his mouth much to the disgust of his two seatmates.

"Haircuts and if Dex should let it grow and become the next Jessica Rabbit." Nursey's smirk only widens at Dex's quickly pinking cheeks, dodging the jam packet that's tossed at his head. "What about you Rans, ever thinking about growing out your fro?" Read more on AO3!

#dex #william poindexter #omgcp #check please #omg check please #fic #mine #fanfic #nurseydex #dexnursey #its been ages since ive crossposted a fic to tumblr #and even longer since ive written for omgcp #but i hope y'all like it #ok time to go dormant again for a while #maybe someday ill be back with the bitty adhd companion piece i started before this fic took over my brain

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zimmerdouche · 1 year

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Hockey is a superstitious sport.

Captain William J. Poindexter muses on this as he partakes in the newest tradition of the class of 2018 - sitting on the reading room with his two best friends, watching Chris Chow painstakingly fill a cone with weed in an attempt to solidify his next shutout.

“Derek, I have to be the one to do this,” Chowder says after Nursey’s umpteenth time trying to control the process without touching anything. “Dex is absolutely useless when it comes to weed and the last time I let you fill the cone, Buckets wiped out into our own goal. Do you know what it feels like to have a 6’7” teenager, on your own team, nearly give you a concussion?”

“Yes, actually, because that same impossibly tall defenseman accidentally high sticked me in the face during practice literally last week,” Nursey reminds him.

“Shut up.”

Chris finishes the task at hand and passes the joint to Nursey. “Last point gets first hit.”

As they settle into their new routine, Dex feels the familiar haze building in the bridge of his nose and lets himself relax into the high. He doesn’t think about their disastrous preseason, the shocking standoffishness of the freshman backup goalie, the clicking that’s already started in his left shoulder that he hasn’t told anyone about yet - or any of the other pressures of being captain. The anxiety and stress disappears, just for a few hours. He can just exist.

Until Nursey decides to drop a fucking nuclear bomb.

“So, we all had a crush on Bitty, right?”

_X_

the bittydex /bittyjackdex brain rot got me

enjoy folx

(only available to registered users bc of ai bs)

#lynn talks #lynn writes #lowkey i’m proud of this one and it’s one of the longest one shots i’ve ever written #william dex poindexter #eric bitty bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp #omg check please #omgcp fic #omg check please fic #only available to registered users bc of ai bullshit so

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 1 year

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Self-Reflection🪞

Day 25 & 26, Blame and Fic Switch

Aftermath of my Sidney Rewrite Episode. Danny’s in his room, reflecting on what happened and the things he wished he could’ve done. I dont normally do fics so I hope I atleast got a clear message in this.

TW, mentions of blood, violence and death.

Here's a link to my Rewrite Episode and take on Sidney design, character and how he died

“I’m sorry Sid”, Danny said to himself solemnly, in his room holding Sid’s broken glasses, they got fairly damaged from…the incident. After the traumatic experience and damage caused in the school, the students were sent home for at least a week. While ghost attacks became a common thing, especially at Casper High, this one was especially frightening, no one, especially Danny saw what Sid did coming. He can still remember being chased like a little bug, seeing the fear in his own eyes from Sid’s giant reflective form, when he saw Dash's face get-he shakes his head, trying to get those horrific memories out. He can’t deal with those graphic details today. He’s just too tired, laying himself on his bed, he stares blankly at the ceiling.

His friends, his family, even Lancer tried to assure Danny none of it was his fault, how could he have known it would all end up like this, how could he have been able to save Dash from something like that, he wasn’t even anywhere near the fight(or so his parents and teacher believed). He even tries to reassure himself, he shouldn’t blame himself but deep down he can’t help but wonder constant what ifs. What if he didn’t let or had been more careful about letting a ghost help prank on Dash and the other mean kids, knowing his backstory, what if he had listen to his friends sooner when they were worried he was getting carried away, what if he had tried talking to Sid better when he did wonder that himself. What if he didn’t let things get so out of hand…he couldn’t fix things.

Flashback of Sid and Danny talking. Sid’s dialogue, the darker words:

“ What do you mean this is getting out of hand? Not like anything’s being tied back to us, right?”.

“ I know, I know, Sid. It’s just some of these pranks have been pretty mean, even for them”.

“ It’s called giving them a a taste of their own medicine Danny. If it was the other way around, you’d think they’d be worrying about being too mean with you? They clearly haven’t thought that to begin with”.

“ Yeah, fair point. It’s just my friends seemed pretty worried and-

“ Ah you’re friends are just being brainwashed by flowery fables that those stupid teachers and the school tell you like “be the bigger person” or “being mean to them makes you just as mean” and other crud ike that. They just teach you to be as worthless as they are”.

“Hey, my friends aren’t worthless! And I get a lot of teachers can be jerks but there’s also plenty that at least try to help(thinks of Lancer). I like to think so.

“ I’m sure that’s what he'd tried to tell you, along with one of his dumb book swears. Seriously most haven't even heard of those books in years, especially not kids-he sees Danny becoming really uncomfortable and starts regulating himself.

“ Sorry, sorry. I'm sure the people you're talking about truly mean well. I was just getting a little heated over there(brings back bad memories) I just know when you try to be nice and let things go, they usually don’t really care and just go back to their old nature. I just wanna make sure they learn their lesson for good. You know I’m just trying to look out for ya, right?

“ y-yeah ofcourse. You’re not wrong, it’s just not sure how long we can keep doing all these pranks, I am pretty busy with other stuff”.

“ Then maybe we should do one final, epic prank! The ultimate prank to teach all the mean kids you don’t mess with nerds! Revenge of the Nerds!

“ YEAH! though Def no revenge of the nerds 80′s style, those guys went WAY too far”.

“ Well it’s a good thing this Daddy-O’s from the 50′s! So I’ve been thinking what if-

Back to the present:

As Danny remembers that conversation, he starts to realize he missed certain red flags such as Sid's growing mean streak...and the little cracks he was trying to hide on his skin. And then, there’s Dash, he got it much worse, being the main target for Sidney’s revenge hunt. Had to be sent to the hospital to get treatment for his injuries and stitches for that bad cut Sid’s pincer left on him, still remembers when the blood spilled on- Danny shakes from that experience. Good chance that mark will stay for a long time.

He wishes it didn’t take him having a full emotional breakdown from all those brutal revenge pranks they pulled and almost dying trying to protect him(Danny) from Sid’s wrath to realize that for all his many, many faults, he’s not really a bad person and didn’t deserve to almost die. He can't even properly apologize to him, not without risking his identity being exposed.

Danny lays back on his bed, breathing out a sigh of guilt and exhaustion. Part of why he wasn’t more willing to acknowledge and try to talk to Sid more was because, outside of Sam and Tucker, he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Then he met Sid who not only understood his problems but enjoyed hanging out with, sharing each others different time pleasures(like Egg-creams), talking about sci-fi films, when they did harmless pranks...at first. He was so worried about losing a new friend, he ended up losing him anyway, the worst way possible. In a way, he made a similar mistake to what the people in Sid’s life made. They ignored him and his problems until they became too big to fix. Thinking about it, Sid’s first failed plan in a twisted way, might've worked, in terms of making his bully regret everything. Doubt he had it easy after being known as the guy who accidentally killed one of his fellow classmates.

As he takes his eyes off the rotating ceiling fan back to Sid's broken glasses, seeing his own reflection from them, he starts to consider. He can’t reverse what happened, but he can atleast make sure what happened to Sid is better acknowledged rather than just try to forget what happened like they did. Regardless of what was and what wasn't his fault, he still wants to make things right. Or atleast try to.

He props himself up to go check some stuff on his laptop such as memorials and finding perhaps some flowers and a card to send to Dash at the hospital. After what happened, it’s highly doubtful anyone would want to use that locker anymore. But maybe it could be used for something else, to remember Sid's story in a clearer light. Give his friend some peace.

As he looks at pictures of locker memorials, he calls Tucker, holding Sid’s broken glasses

“ Yeah I’m doing good too, thanks Do you know how to fix up cracked glasses?”

The End.

What do u think? I'd love to know💖

#Danny phantom #dannyphantom #dannymay #dannymay 2023 #dannymay2023 #phanfic #dp fanfic #dp fic #my fic #Sidney poindexter #dp sidney #sydney poindexter #tw dark themes #day 25 blame #day 26 art/fic switch #art/fic switch

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somethingnurseywoulddo · 10 months

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Cicadas are singing their song in the near distance, an orchestra of thousands surrounding Will-- a singular. The porch is slightly damp from August's evening rain, humidity capturing water into the wood even hours later. None of that bothers him. He's lost in the lights high above him in the night sky, or maybe he's just lost in his own head. It's a differentiation he hasn't been able to make yet.

It's almost torture when he sits out on this porch. No one but him and the crescent moon, nothing besides the condensation of his beer in his hand. Almost as if Will was back in Maine sitting on the porch of his childhood home. Back then, he wasn't out there alone on purpose. Nothing in that small town fit his big emotions so he'd take his heart and spill it out to the stars in order to keep himself in check. He would allow the midnight blue to see his honest self, anyone else would judge his character except for the universe. Better to cling to shooting stars than gamble trusting his secrets to a potential knife in the back.

Except he shouldn't be on the Haus porch projecting childhood. He could very easily ask to devour a homemade pie or study on that god-awful couch or listen to his blades across empty ice. Yet Will finds a yearning in his heart for a familiar loneliness because sometimes that's easier than riding a bike. Pie and studying and even empty ice require questions and people. Improvement in trusting others only goes so far. Sometimes he needs to flashback four years to feel something so entirely known in order to process his current unknown.

This whole situation with Nursey is blooming across his chest. Maybe he's outside--nostalgic--because he can rely on a younger version of himself. He can only rely on those feelings dusted across the night sky all those years ago. He can only hope he finds them as he searches constellations. He can only hope that this ratty porch in Massachusetts can get him close enough to the Maine stars which hold his secrets. The very secrets he's hoping will answer a question of fear from childhood and light a new path.

Will flicks the condensation off of his hands before wiping them on his already-damp jeans. Maybe more than the stars heard his questions tonight. Maybe the cicadas singing were also listening. Maybe they can change past loneliness and provide today's support. He doesn't know why he feels poetic or nostalgic on this random summer evening, but he knows a little peace has found him.

#this is not structured this is not my best #but it was absolutely what i needed to feel tonight #slight projection and cicadas and stars? yep self indulgence babey #dex #william poindexter #check please #omgcheckplease #check please!#omgcp #omgcp fic #???

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teal-bandit · 1 year

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Blood covered hands (aftermath)

#daken akihiro #bullseye #benjamin poindexter #bullsnikt #based on that one whumptober piece #theres a fic in the works too but that will have to come later

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tonymarias · 1 month

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Thinking about if Rocky had a daughter… born to be a girl dad cursed to only have one son because writers don’t know how to write father/daughter relationships or multiple children in narratives

#Stallone please THINK OF IT #would be really funny if his daughter was intense and scary and Robert is just a dork and a poindexter #like pls the material was right there #also Rocky says in 5 he always wanted a daughter #might write a fic about this .#serra talks

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petertingle-yipyip · 1 year

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MAD AT GOD - MATT MURDOCK

Season Three - House of Memories

tags: @ironprincessstranger @johnmurphys-sass @dusstory @americaarse @astrobees @mayasaurus--rex @woowwwee // two // Season 2B // masterlist

Pairing: Bullseye X Reader (Casual) , Matt X Reader (Past)

Word Count: 9,558

Summary: Times have changed since Midland Circle, so has Y/N. As she attempts to move forward, relationships are strained and circumstances are less than favorable. Can she cope on her own or will she fall back into old habits?

“Welcome to our final class for the semester!” The professor announced as he paraded into the room. Various hoots and claps came from around you but you simply smiled, glad to have another class checked off your schedule. “As you know, today is the final day for debates. We have only a few to get through so the quicker we go, the quicker we enjoy our winter break. Y/L/N, you’re up first!”

You pushed yourself up and hurried down the lecture hall steps until you reached the front. You stood at the closer podium and scanned the notes that waited for you.

A man attempts to break into a house late at night. The owner, a single woman, owns a retired police dog - a German Shepherd to be specific. He bites the perpetrator but releases and recalls when the noise wakes the woman and she calls him back. You’re supposed to argue the man is at fault. Your opposition will argue that the woman is.

“There’s five people you can choose to argue against, or I can choose for you.” Your professor said as you looked up at the empty podium across from you.

“You can pick.. But don’t make it easy.” You shrugged and glanced up at Matt. You knew he hadn’t gone yet and he was smiling down at you.

“Mr. Murdock!” He called and you grinned. “My two top students should go against each other, don’t you think? C’mon down, my boy!”

Matt laughed slightly and made his way down, cane bouncing off the steps. The professor pulled a different copy of the notes from his bag and placed it at Matt’s podium. You gave him a minute while he ran his fingers over the page and his brows raised in interest.

“Ladies first.” The professor bowed and stepped back.

“Clearly, the man is at fault.” You began easily. “Attempted breaking and entering.”

“Yes, but this dog is trained to attack and by New York law, that makes the owner liable.” Matt countered. “Just compensate for the $2,200 in medical bills and call it a day.”

“Yes, but New York law also states that if the victim is trespassing or provoking the animal, the owner isn’t liable.”

“How do you know he was provoking the animal?”

“Security footage.”

“That wasn’t in the notes.” Matt smiled slightly.

“You’re going to assume a woman who lives alone doesn’t have cameras?” You raised your brows.

“Regardless, the dog is trained to attack. Especially being retired police, there must’ve been training for him to engage in certain situations.”

“Certain hostile situations, you mean.”

“You can’t be sure the man was hostile.”

“Why was he breaking into her house then?”

“Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was running, looking for somewhere to hide or someone to help him. The dog misread the body language and attacked, unprovoked.”

“Can I ask you something, Mr. Murdock?”

“Please.” He smiled.

“If I threaten you, are you within your rights to defend yourself?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And if I am threatened, can I defend myself?”

“Yes.”

“With whatever I feel is necessary?”

“Sure.”

“Exactly. The dog felt it’s home and owner were threatened. It reacted accordingly.”

“Sounds a bit like victim blaming, doesn’t it?” He asked with a tilt of his head and you almost laughed.

“Coming from the man blaming an animal.”

“Let me ask you something, Ms. Y/L/N. By going off your last statement, your addressing the animal like it’s a weapon.”

“And if I had a concealed carry permit, do I have to show it to you or announce it before defending myself with said weapon?”

“No. But you are still held responsible if you kill your attacker, even if it’s self-defense.”

“You seem to be sympathizing with the attacker. Tell me, Mr. Murdock. Do you?”

“Are you insinuating I hurt people?” His voice feigned hurt but he nearly laughed in amusement.

“Of course not.” You said honestly. “But I do think you enjoy a bit of power.”

“Do you sympathize with the woman?”

“With a woman, on her own, being attacked by someone who she owes nothing to?” You challenged slightly, putting more of a personal anger into the words than intended. “I think any woman in the room would.”

“Maybe that’s clouding your judgment.”

“Is that an ad hominem I hear? Maybe you’re trying to attack me because you know your argument is weak.”

“I’ll admit that the man shouldn’t have gone breaking into houses. However, the woman should’ve had signage posted that a dog with the training and intent to protect was on the premises.”

“Should she have put a sign on every corner of her fence?” You raised your brows. “Because for all we know, there’s a sign on her front gate.”

“I don’t remember if it’s in the notes so just assume there is.” Your professor agreed, seemingly enthralled in your discussion like his favorite TV show. “You two are doing fantastic. You’ve almost gotten to the deciding factor.”

“With posted signage at the front of her property, she shouldn’t have to post it on the back if there’s no typical entry there.” You continued.

“One sign is easy to overlook.” Matt shrugged.

“Not if you enter the property in the proper way. Therefore, the only way the woman is liable would be if the dog bit the man on the sidewalk, since it’s public property.”

“Can we get a description of what the dog bites look like?” Matt turned to your professor.

“Should be on the second page.” He nodded and you cleared your throat. He looked at you and you gave a small jerk of your head towards Matt. “Of course. You’d think I’d remember.” He mumbled and your class chuckled.

You moved to his podium with your paper in hand and reached for his arm. He gave it to you willingly so you pushed the sleeve of his shirt up and twisted it so you could see the inside of his forearm while dropping your page on top of his.

“Punctures from the top canines here.” You used two fingers pressed against his skin as you looked at the paper. “Bottom here. Bruising along here.” Your fingers trailed along his arm and he shivered slightly. “Another set of punctures here, with a bit of lacerations. Less than an inch maybe.”

“A second set of punctures?” His brows furrowed beneath his glasses and you recognized the tone of his voice. He heard something of interest. “So the dog bit once, let go, and bit again? And shook, if there were lacerations.”

“The lacerations are newer, based on the blood color.” You countered. “They don’t look like a shake. It looks like he was pulling his arm away.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because they go downwards. Typically, shakes just make the initial punctures deeper and a little wider, little messier. If anything the movement would be horizontal.”

“Anything else on the bites?”

“No, but..” You flipped the page over and found another photo, though this one was the dog covered in blood and a copy of a vet bill. “There’s a vet bill.”

You flipped Matt’s notes and found what you assumed was the same thing just in braille. You put his hand against it and read your own.

“The dog had damage to his left eye and socket, a chunk missing from his ear and a bloody line four inches down his side.” You explained the photo. “Was the dog shot?”

Your professor nodded.

“Your guy shot her dog.” You turned back to Matt. “Probably used the butt of the gun to hit its eye.”

“You’re right.” He nodded with a small smile. “The woman’s not at fault.”

“You wanted the $2200 for medical?” You asked and he nodded. “Vet bills were $3700. Pay out the difference and we’ll call it even.”

Matt grinned and shook your hand. Your professor stood and celebrated, causing the class to give polite claps. Foggy gave a loud shout from the back.

———————————————

How he survived, he didn’t know. When he finally washed up after Midland Circle, he felt closer to death than he ever had before. He hardly had strength to breathe, let alone try to get home. Try to get to Y/N.

The thought of her was the only thing that kept him going. She was the only thing that had him even considering healing, considering living after that. He heard her voice in every thought. Her touch seemed to ghost his skin though she was nowhere near.

I can’t lose you, Matty. I just can’t.

I trust you with my life.

I want you with me.

I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you.

My life isn’t worth yours.

Just don’t let it take you from us, okay?

How could he ever face her again? To stand in front of her, knowing she would break down, and ask her to forgive him for sacrificing his life. And for what? For his own pride? For Elektra? And not even the Elektra they both knew and loved at that, but a hollowed out version driven by her own selfish desires.

“Where…? Where…?” He tried to get out a full question but every word seemed to die as it fell from his lips.

“St. Agnes. The orphanage.” A familiar voice answered but he couldn’t make out anything else. Matt felt like someone had shoved a pound of dry cotton into his ears. And while he appreciated the knowledge of where he was, that wasn’t what he wanted to know.

“How long?”

“Several weeks.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

“She’s come and gone for the day.” The woman rushed an answer and the words made Matt’s head spin violently as he sat up. Or was that more the residual injuries? “Get back in the bed! You’ll hurt yourself!”

“My right ear… I can’t..”

Matt tried to get out of the bed but he collapsed to the floor with the first step. It was like his body forgot how to move. His own skeleton failed him and let him crash to the ground and a wound at his side gnawed angrily at the impact. The fluid between his ears was as uneasy as the ocean and nothing around him felt solid. The only thing that kept him in that moment was the cold floor beneath him and the firm hands that tried to haul him up.

She’s come and gone for the day.

Why was Y/N at the church? She didn’t believe in any of it. Was she looking for Matt? Did she already know he was alive? If she knew, she would’ve been beside him. He firmly believed that if she knew, she wouldn’t leave his side. She would’ve sat there, day and night, waiting to scream at him for abandoning her or to make sure he actually pulled through. There would’ve been some piece of her left in that room, whether it be the warmth of her skin or the scent of her perfume or the sound of her voice. Something would’ve still been there, unless maybe it was and Matt just couldn’t tell. What a cold loneliness he felt around him when he considered that thought.

To anything outside that small, lonely room in the orphanage, Daredevil - and in turn, for some at least, Matt Murdock - was dead.

————————————

Matt and Foggy were in their dorm room, the afternoon after meeting Y/N.

Saying the girl was electric was an understatement. From the second he heard her say his name, he was a goner. He had known her for mere minutes, hours if you count the night, but he felt something in his chest when she introduced herself. His heart thumped faster when she laughed and time seemed to slow when she touched him.

He started to wonder if that’s what it meant to have a soulmate.

“Are you gonna call her?” Foggy asked that morning.

“We met her last night, Foggy.” Matt reasoned with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not gonna call her.”

“Dude.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re gonna miss this perfect opportunity? Matt, c’mon man! She was gorgeous!”

“I-“

“No, like you don’t get it. She was probably the most beautiful woman to have ever walked this campus. You should’ve seen her.”

“Well I-“

“Don’t!” Foggy cut in so Matt smiled innocently. “Do not make a blind joke right now.”

“If she’s so beautiful, then you call her.” Matt tried, though the suggestion felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m not the one she was making googly eyes at on the walk back last night.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I-“ Foggy began before a loud, exasperated sigh. “Matt! Dude!”

“Foggy!” Matt replied in the same tone. “It’s fine. We’ll probably run into her in class anyway.”

“You’re gonna just wait and hope that you two run into each other again by chance? When she’s probably the most perfect and smart and beautiful and charming and-“

“Sounds like you liked her more than I did.” Matt mumbled and dropped onto his back across his mattress.

“Matt. Matthew. My friend.” Foggy said as he came and sat on his friend’s bed beside him. “I’m telling you this because I love you. Call the girl!”

“I’m not gonna call her!” Matt laughed. “C’mon man. You really think a girl like that - as beautiful as you say she is and can speak that many languages and who knows what else she can do. You think a girl like that is gonna wanna be with me?”

“Buddy, I think she would’ve married you last night if you had asked.”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed dramatically, though he was admittedly giddy. “I’ll call her. Dial her number for me.”

“Do you hear that?” Foggy joked as he found the scrap of her book page that she wrote her number on and dialed on Matt’s phone. “Sounds like wedding bells, my friend. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N-Murdock.”

“Y/L/N-Murdock, huh?” Matt laughed as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, you’re right… Murdock-Y/L/N? Nah, I don’t like that either. Maybe just Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“It’s about time, Murdock.” Y/N joked on the other end of the call. “And here I thought you forgot about me.”

————————————

“Matthew.” Father Lantom announced his arrival one day and Matt was drawn out of the same spiral of thoughts that haunted him. The same circulation of memories that plagued him.

“Father, I didn’t know you were there.” Matt answered honestly, though the feeling in his right ear was as nagging as ever. “Sister Maggie said something before… About Y/N.”

“Oh.. Yes.” He nodded and Matt noticed his hesitation. It was as if he was thinking of how to tell Matt whatever he knew. “She’s been coming around a bit more often lately.”

“Does she know?”

“No… No, I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell her.”

“Why does she come then?”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. She’s only come inside once.. Said the building doesn’t smell like cinnamon anymore, whatever that means.”

Matt sighed heavily, understanding exactly what she meant. Though he had never smelled it himself, he knew it was how the devotion in the building showed up to her. It was part of her abilities, how she described the church as warm and alive with everyone’s belief. She described anger as red, hot and burning. Sadness was cold and blue. Happiness was a soft purple. Love was pink and fuzzy. Fear, yellow and bitter. He wondered what she was feeling now.

“Instead she just… sits on the bench out front until one of the boys comes to collect her for work. Poor thing.” Lantom continued and it made Matt’s heart twist.

“It’s my fault.. She was with me that night and I- I made her leave. I couldn’t let her die with me.” Matt said weakly.

“She’s doing well lately, better since she’s recovered.”

Matt wondered what that meant but he didn’t dwell on it.

“The.. The way her voice broke when she- When she called out for me… I heard her scream when it all happened.”

Just talking about it replayed that scream and he felt his heart splinter again.

“I’m sure she would love to see you.”

“I just can’t get that sound out of my head.” He nearly whispered.

“She used to say the last thing you said to her played in her head like a record on repeat… Said she’d give anything to hear you say her name again.”

Matt said nothing this time. He would love to have Y/N come by but he knew it wasn’t fair. He’d been gone for several weeks, at least. That could’ve meant months. Y/N could’ve gotten over everything and seeing him, knowing he was alive and she had been so close to him every time she came, it would only break her again. How could he put her through that? How could he be so selfish?

“Matthew, you have to admit it is a miracle that you survived.” Lantom tried.

“That’s how most of our conversations tend to go.” Matt complained and rolled to his side. “Let’s just give it a rest.”

Lantom left after that, allowing Matt to wallow in his own thoughts and boredom.

He wondered who were the boys that came for Y/N. What of her life was still the same? Did Exodus come back to protect the Kitchen, to take out her anger and pain on those she thought deserved it? Or did she sit at home, alone in the apartment that they had danced in? The apartment they had cooked dinners in and cleaned together and where she taught him more and more Russian. Was she as alone as he was? Chased by memories of something buried alive.

Those were the thoughts that plagued Matt day in and day out. He thought of his other friends, too. Karen and Foggy. He wondered if Jessica or Luke or Danny had checked in on Y/N. He even wondered if Frank had heard and looked out for her

Matt wasn’t sure how long exactly it had been since his conversation with Father Lantom about Y/N when Sister Maggie brought her up as well.

“There must be at least one person I can call for you.” She said, almost regretfully and there was a hint of a knowing tone in her voice.

“No.” Matt decided. “There’s no one.”

“What about the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The sad, pretty one. Although lately she seems more angry than sad.” She described her simply and a brief smile crossed Matt’s face. “She comes every morning and has told me about a specific someone who sounds remarkably like you. And given all of that, I’m guessing she was the one you liked to do backflips with.”

“Exodus.”

Sister Maggie hummed in response.

“Her name is Y/N.” Matt said, almost defensively. He couldn’t take her down to only her vigilante name because she was so much more than that. He helped her see that, so ignoring that would be wrong. Exodus was part of who Y/N was, not the entirety.

“You should consider yourself lucky to have found a girl like that that’s willing to put up with all of this.”

“Yeah…”

Back at the apartment, you were getting home for the day. It was an easy day. You had been back from Quantico for a few months, but everything from Billy at the carousel set back your timeline. After your mandated therapy and physical rehab, today was the first day you were unrestricted, though of course your luck meant nothing exciting happened.

You reached for your door handle and found it already unlocked. You walked in confidently after dropping your purse and coat by the door, a hand hovering at the gun on your hip, only to find Karen. She was kneeling by the closet under your stairs with the case to Matt’s suit open in front of her.

“I could’ve told you it’s still not there.” You said simply, removing your gun and badge from your belt and tossing them to the table. “It’s not coming back, Karen. Neither is he.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called.” She answered gently, a sadness in her voice.

“Yeah..” You agreed quickly. “Want a drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks.. But uh, how are you?”

“That’s not what this is about.” You threw the fridge shut. “Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t know why you keep coming back and looking for it.”

“I know.. I just can’t shake the feeling that-“

“Not even that.” You laughed with annoyance. “You don’t remember what you told him, do you? When you came by the next day after he told you about all that.” You pointed to the closet.

She was quiet so you continued.

“I don’t think Daredevil’s the problem.” You repeated and her eyes dropped. Her guilt tinted the air with a stale feeling, vaguely smelling like old water. “You didn’t want him in your life as Daredevil but now that he’s gone, you pretend that you cared about the suit.”

She looked back to you quickly. “I didn’t care about the suit. I cared about him.”

“You cared about Matt… Yeah, I’ll give you that. But you didn’t give a shit about Daredevil. You can’t separate the two!”

“Is that why you liked him? Because he was Daredevil.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered.

“Because you liked a guy that you could treat like shit and still expect him to care?”

“Fuck you, Karen.” You snapped. “I cared about Matt long before he even thought about Daredevil so don’t stand there and act like you know anything about our relationship.”

“No, you’re right. Because you two kept so many goddamn secrets nobody really knew either of you, right?”

“Is this really what you came for? To fight with me.” You came around the counter and took a few steps closer to her, making her step back. “Because if you did, you can walk right back out the door and y’know what. You don’t even have to come back. Okay? I don’t need this shit from you anymore. I’m done, Karen.”

She was quiet and you felt the way your words sliced through her but you were too angry to stop talking. You let that anger burn through you as the words fell from your lips.

“Evidently, the only reasons we got along were because Matt and Frank were mutual friends. Now that they’re not around, we have nothing.” You shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore. I don’t need a pity friend. And I don’t want one.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She replied quietly, like a child being yelled at by her parents. “I’m sorry. We’re just worried, me and Foggy.”

“Well don’t be. I’m fine.” You offered a sarcastic expression before going back to the far side of the counter.

She nodded slightly. “I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t care. I don’t need a babysitter. I still make a couple meetings for that support group with Curtis. I left Anvil and the Billy fiasco behind. I’m trying to take the FBI offer seriously. I don’t know what else you and him need me to do to convince you that I’m fine.”

“Foggy said you’re going to Matt’s church again.”

“Oh my-“ You mumbled. “That’s what this is about? Because I sit on a stupid bench?”

“It’s more than just a bench, Y/N.”

“What else is there to say? What are you fishing for?” You sighed heavily and leaned your palms against your countertop, nearly wincing at the sharp contrast of the cool surface against your burning skin. “I’m moving on. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

A series of quick knocks sounded at your door.

“What you both wanted.” You corrected as you went to open the door, seeing Foggy standing on the other side.

“Surprise.” He smiled nervously.

“Whatever intervention or ambush this is, I don’t need it.” You announced as you headed back into the living room. “I’m doing great.”

“I just came to see my friend. We haven’t had time to get together since you’ve been back, given all the other stuff that happened.” Foggy said honestly. You turned to face him and stared for a moment, reading his emotions. You found he wasn’t coming from a place of worry or concern. Just friendship.

You offered a small smile in response as your own headspace cleared. Maybe you needed someone familiar to be around for a bit. “Then you can stay a while. And if you don’t try to pick another fight, Karen, you can stay too.”

You had to admit. Foggy’s good heart and honest energy seemed to be the only thing lately that could help your heart break through.

Back at the church, Sister Maggie was continuing her conversation with Matt.

“Angry, sarcastic, and stubborn. Maybe you don’t have any friends.” Maggie joked, though Matt didn’t find it funny.

“Someone once told me that warriors were meant to be alone.” He answered simply rather than argue. “That caring for people would make me weak.”

“Is that what you told that Exodus girl?”

“Y/N.” Matt said defensively to himself.

“That you’d be weak if you cared? Cause it doesn’t seem like she got the memo.”

“I let people in, I paid a price… If anyone can understand that, it’s her. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Would she call it a mistake?”

“You really wanna push the Y/N topic, don’t you?” Matt groaned. Not because he didn’t want to talk about Y/N, but because it just hurt too much still.

“She seems to be the only topic that gets you to talk.” Maggie countered.

The conversation then shifted to Job after Matt found his old Bible and the way Matt thought he was serving God the same way. Matt admitted that he didn’t hate God, but he felt he understood Him better and understood where they stood with each other.

“For the record, I had friends. I had a life, a girlfriend and I- I loved her, probably would’ve married her one day. Started a family of our own down the road. I care about people and I’m choosing to let them believe that I’m gone because I am.”

“Tell that to the girl that sits on that bench every morning.”

“You don’t get it.” He sighed.

“I think I do, Matthew. She makes you happy, and that’s the worst thing for you.”

“I know my truth now, Sister.”

“What truth?”

“I’d rather die as the Devil than live as Matt Murdock.”

“So I guess she’d rather live as Y/N, without either, and blame herself for the Devil’s death.”

“At least she’ll live.”

“But what kind of a life is that?”

Sister Maggie left after that, allowing Matt to sit in his own continuous misery. Missing Foggy, Y/N, and Karen. That was his own punishment. He deserved that, for all the pain and suffering he had brought to them. He was better alone, the same as Y/N tried to convince herself she was, and he hoped she had started to believe she was better without him. Difference was that he chose to do what he did. Y/N was made into it. The only thing he would change was that Y/N blamed herself.

That night, Sister Maggie came back.

“I think you’re a hero, hiding down here and feeling sorry for yourself.” She said simply. “Just out back, there’s an orphanage full of kids who’ve lost everything and everyone. Some of them disabled, much worse off than you ever were. And they’re still trying to make the most out of life, the little cowards.”

“Okay, alright.” Matt cut in.

“I mean it! Here you are, with all the gifts God gave you. Handsome, smart, a law degree, people who care about you. You have a beautiful, thoughtful girl that comes here every single day without fail who only wants to see you again. Doesn’t even know you’re here, mind you. But you’re so bravely giving up.”

“Y’know, thank you for the tough love, Sister.” Matt complained as he hobbled across the cold room. “And your charmingly simplistic view of God and the world. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but don’t for a second think you know anything about me or her or my life.”

“I’ve been a nun for 30 years. I know self-pity when I hear it.” She continued. “And I know that she’s had to leave people, without explanation. I know that after losing you, if how she feels is how they all felt, she would’ve done it differently.”

“Yeah? Well, no one died because of her. Twice, actually.”

“You don’t know everything about her past, Matthew. The guilt she carries could be more than yours.”

“But you do?”

“No.. But I do know your father was famous around here. I saw him fight, saw him go down many times. But he never stayed down.” She pressed before she left.

Matt laid in bed that night and thought of her words, and she was right. About his dad at least. He didn’t stay down. But he did have to wonder about what she said about Y/N, regretting the choices she’d made. If she had known the way people hurt when she left - how he hurt when she left - would she have made different choices?

He couldn’t help but think how different his life would’ve been if she had never left. Or if she had never came in the first place.

A few days passed and Matt found some sense of recovery. He managed to clear some of the blockages in his sinuses, allowing him to find some normalcy with training again. Certain moves still hurt, still caused him to fail, but he knew he was on his way back to what he was before. Back to Daredevil.

On your next day off, you were sitting on your usual bench outside the church with your gym bag tucked beneath your feet. You greeted some of the familiar nuns and patrons with a friendly smile, accepting the gentle handshakes and blessings from the older ladies that you were seeing for the first time since you’ve been back. Sister Maggie came and sat beside you, though her usual demeanor was replaced with a jittery energy.

“Something wrong, Sister?” You asked simply as she sighed and you felt the vibrations tingle against your exposed skin.

“Well, Y/N, I don’t know how to ask you this.” She admitted and you shifted to face her fully. “Would you be.. willing to come downstairs with me today?”

“For what?”

“For a… for a fight.”

“A fight..” You repeated and raised your brows. “Since when does the church have a secret fight club?”

“I’m not thrilled about it but I think you’re the best option.”

“Okay…” You agreed hesitantly. “What’s the catch?”

“Well… Have you ever fought blindfolded? Or with your eyes closed?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though her scowl made you quiet down.

“You’re serious?” Your brows furrowed.

“Unfortunately.”

“Weirdly enough, I have..”

“Of course you have.” She sighed.

“It was a good training exercise.” You shrugged. “It taught me to understand and hone my gifts rather than depending on what I see, kinda like how Matt used to… Well, anyways, did you want me to do it today?”

“If you’re willing.”

You stared at your hands folded in your lap for a moment, tapping your fingers as you thought. It was an odd request, definitely, and it made no sense to you. But the idea did make your nerves tingle and your muscles twitch. It could be fun to repeat an old training drill, despite the clear hesitation and borderline sacrilegious nature of it. There was something Sister Maggie wasn’t telling you, but really, you didn’t care to know all the details.

“Sure.” You shrugged and stood, kneeling for your bag before following the older nun through the halls and down the stairs.

You paused before a rod-iron gate and you could feel the buzzing of your opponent on the other side. A torn cloth was tied tightly across your eyes as Sister Maggie and Father Lantom exchanged a quick, hushed conversation that you were expected to ignore about what was going to take place. You were lead through the room quietly, guided where to leave your bag.

You knelt and pulled your wraps, wrapping them in place easily after your brace was fitted on as you spoke to Lantom while Maggie talked to whoever you were facing. You tapped your hands into your chalk pouch and patted them together to cover your exposed fingers and the back of your covered knuckles with the fine powder.

“Do you have gloves?” He asked simply, though you could picture the way he was fidgeting.

“I’d rather not, if whoever’s over there doesn’t mind.” You answered, nodding towards the unknown figure behind you. “They don’t have to either, just so it’s fair.”

After a moment of quiet, Lantom answered.

“Alright. He’s not wearing a helmet and there’s a lot of marble statues around so try not to beat on him too bad.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head in his direction.

“Shouldn’t you be warning him about going easy on me, too?” You joked and stood, allowing Lantom to turn you towards your opponent and guide you closer. “Given I’m the one that can’t see.”

“No wonder you two got along.” Maggie sighed, though the statement wasn’t directed at you. “Same sense of humor.”

You reached your hand out and felt another meet yours in a quick tap. Your skin flushed warm as you tuned in to your opponent’s feelings, finding yourself warmed with a general anger and an underlying sadness. A brief flash of loneliness and regret, tucked under a suffocating blanket of self-pity that you swore was going to choke you. You cleared the feeling with a light cough as you rolled your shoulders.

They’d be easy enough to keep track of. Your only issue now would be anticipating their moves, given that you knew nothing of their fighting style. All you could assume was that they were a traditional boxer.

You moved first with hopes of keeping enough of an offense that you wouldn’t need to defend against much, throwing two sharp jabs that connected with their stomach. You were met with a brisk hook to your chin that backed you up a few steps. You chuckled lightly and shifted your jaw, having been hit harder than anticipated.

The brief swell of pride gave away where they moved to so you acted quickly, grabbing their shoulders and yanking them down your knee could slam their stomach. When you felt the hands grab your forearms, you spun your hands around so you could break their hold before throwing an elbow against their nose which earned a loud gasp from Sister Maggie. Your next punch was caught, pushing you to the side. When you turned to face them again, you were met with a quick barrage of jabs that you could block with your arms and there was an obvious tell that your opponent was holding back.

“If you’re gonna hit me, hit me. I’m sure I can take it.” You spat with the unintentional tint of your accent and were hit with a heavy wave of panic.

You seized the hesitation and moved back in, landing hit after hit. Lantom and Maggie both tried to call you off, but neither you nor your opponent stopped. You two were trading blows and dodging shots until you managed to get enough room to swing a moderated roundhouse to the side of his head and he dropped.

Lantom guided you out after that while Maggie tended to the other person, both of them unhappy with the results. He thanked you for coming and insisted you keep it quiet. You joked that you didn’t know who you were up against anyway so your story wouldn’t make much sense if you told it. But even as you were leaving, and you couldn’t remove the blindfold until you were the majority of the way up the stairs, you couldn’t deny the feeling that whoever you were up against… Their emotions were familiar, like the sound of an old song that you still miraculously knew the words to but couldn’t remember who sang it.

Something comfortable. Something that was impossible to truly get out of your head.

That night, you were out with Dex for drinks to try and forget about it.

“Why does it look like you got punched in the face?” He laughed, tapping his mouth in the same spot where you knew yours was busted.

“Cause I did.” You admitted with a small smile that tugged the small wound open. “My gym was doing a little amateur boxing showcase type thing earlier so I jumped in after my lifts.”

“Hope you won.”

“Oh, yeah.” You grinned, the action tugging the split skin open further. “Dropped the last guy nice and easy. After I had my fun, of course.”

“Otherwise, y’know, I’d have to find a new partner.”

“Wow.” Your brows raised and he gave you a playful smirk. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“That’s cold, Dex.”

“C’mon.” He chuckled. “You think I can have a partner that loses amateur boxing?”

“Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Hattley says she likes the way we work.”

“Guess I’ll have to deal with you then, huh?”

“Can’t rid of me that easy. Just ask anyone who knows me.”

As he was walking you home, you felt that familiarity again. It hooked into your chest and was tugging at you, screaming in the back of your head to get closer. You faked a reason to return to the bar - lying that you had left your phone - and hurried the few blocks to get to them. As you were getting closer, you heard a woman yelling for her dad. Her panic urged your feet to move faster, but you were so distracted by the person - likely subconsciously - calling out to you that you almost didn’t notice the car.

The tires skirted along the asphalt and you had to hop back. You leaned on the hood to see through the bright headlights, and the girl driving was more panicked than you were, with mascara stall rubbing down her puffed up cheeks. It was easy to figure out she was the one you heard so you waved her off and kept moving. But when you got to the source, you faltered, only for a second.

“God forgive me.” He mumbled, hardly enough sound for you to hear.

The defeat in his voice - his familiar voice - drove a stake through your chest that let a chilling loneliness creep out and weigh heavily on your skin. With a shiver, you forced the feeling down and focused on the situation in front of you.

One of the men raised their arms but you were quick to yank the pole from their hand. He turned on you almost instantly but you offered a smile before slamming the pole against his temple, seeing an angry gash split almost immediately. You turned and slammed a foot against the kneeling man’s chest and leaned into it, pinning him to the ground. You threw the pole at the other man, seeing the end collide with his nose before you allowed him to gather his partner and take off.

You blew a loose strand of hair from your face and turned your attention back to the man under your shoe.

You heart nearly stopped when you saw the familiar outfit.

“No…” You said quietly, moving your foot to kneel beside him.

Your fingers reached gingerly for the edge of his mask, but just as you were about to grab it, he slammed his forehead against yours and you fell backwards. You let out a loud string of curses in Russian as you rubbed the place of contact but when you looked back, you found he was gone.

You could’ve sworn, as you got up and made your way back to the apartment, that it was the Man in the Mask.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Daredevil.

Matt Murdock.

Despite every logical thought in your head, everytime your brain mulled over the facts. Every night you went to bed alone and woke up the same. Every time you realized you missed him but forgot that it was supposed to hurt, when you realized you still weren’t really letting it hurt.

But if you had to put money on that voice being his, you would’ve.

Would it be better if he really was alive? Maybe whatever was cracking through your still cold core would reignite in your chest. You could regain your full sense of humanity and normalcy, return to the Y/N he knew and loved, assuming enough of her still existed at that point.

Or would it only force that floodgate of pain and anger and grief open? Would you find that the girl he knew, the girl you thought you were, was never real? That it’d be too much and you’d fall back into an uncaring, heartless and ruthless person that not even Dreykov would’ve wanted.

Damn him, for throwing your thoughts into a spiral even in death.

Alleged death, now.

The next morning at work, you wished you had stayed home.

“Y/L/N. You’re with me.” An agent you knew a bit, Ray Nadeem, called as he walked by you. He didn’t stay long so you had to move quickly to catch up.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you finally got to his stride.

“Talk to a guy who won’t give us shit. Hattley wants you to go since SWAT has nothing and you’re new but doesn’t want you going alone in case there’s a conflict of interest.”

“So why you? Why not send me with Dex seeing as he’s my actual partner.”

“Cause my number was up next.” He sighed in annoyance. “And didn’t Dex go out of town on assignment this morning?”

“You’re telling me this couldn’t have waited a day or two till he’s back? If he’s gonna give us nothing, what does it matter?”

When you got in the car, he passed you the thick rubber banded folder. You didn’t need to open it to know what case it was, and all thoughts of Matt and his possible survival were shoved from your head.

You were going to talk to Wilson Fisk.

You gripped the file tightly in one hand while pulling your phone. You shot Marc a quick text about Vanessa’s most recent location, and he sent back a short list of what he had since the last time you two spoke along with a rumor of where she’d be headed next. The drive to the prison was relatively quiet, but you could feel there was something eating at Ray. You thought about asking but you figured he wouldn’t want to talk to you about it so you said nothing. Instead, you cleared your throat to break the looming tension.

You two were escorted in after a brief security clearing and sat alone at a small table while the guards led Fisk in.

“Mr. Fisk, I’m Special Agent Ray Nadeem with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Ray introduced simply, flashing his badge before gesturing to you.

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, FBI SWAT.” You nodded.

“The FBI would like your assistance with… Let’s just cut to the part where you tell us to eat shit so we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

“Do you have someone in your life that you love so much, you’d do anything to protect them?” Fisk asked solemnly, his eyes lingering on you before turning to Ray.

“Are you threatening us?” He asked quickly.

“I have made many mistakes.” Fisk nodded. “But I accept the debt I’m paying because of them. A debt-” He turned to you again. “-that certain people ensured I could not neglect.”

“He’s not threatening us, not yet at least.” You sighed and leaned forward, your chest hitting the edge of the table. “He’ll talk.” You twisted your fingers under the table to pull on the gnawing worry that was presenting in Fisk. As the man stared you down, you watched the blue mist of sadness cover his eyes and you were given a flash of a name. Vanessa. “Because there’s something we can offer as incentive.”

“What I cannot accept is that the woman I love should have to pay for them, too. I would do anything to protect her.”

“So what is it you’re saying?” Ray asked carefully.

“He wants us to help Vanessa Marianna, some sort of pardon or acquittal, so she can come back to the States.” You explained, drawing a quick head turn from Ray. “She’s been pretty good about avoiding countries with extradition, I’ll give her that. But she’s passed through a couple in Europe, for the sake of art, I bet.”

“She had nothing to do with this!” Fisk said loudly.

“But she knew, didn’t she?” You instigated.

“I want to make a deal.”

“She knew you were a criminal, I bet.”

“Y/L/N.” Ray tried.

“A liar.”

“All I ask, Agent Y/L/N, in exchange is for someone to protect this woman.”

“Let me be frank here. I don’t trust you. I want you to stay in this prison and rot for the rest of your miserable life. Vanessa can run till the money runs out and I have someone grab her. But it’s not about what I want… Give us good information and maybe we’ll look into it. She’s easy enough for me to find anyway.”

The next morning, you and Ray were tasked with leading a raid on the Albanians. It was a show of faith in Fisk, that he’d given you viable information. But even though you didn’t trust a single word out of Fisk’s mouth, your job was by the book now. You had to look into it.

And as much as you hated to say it, Fisk wasn’t lying. You and Ray led the team through a perfectly successful raid. Your office congratulated you both and you accepted the praise with a smile, even though you didn’t like it. Something about everything felt forced, like you were playing exactly the part you were meant to play and it left a grimy feeling across your skin.

You stayed huddled at your temporary desk most of the day, writing your report of the raid and finding any other trivial task that kept you away from prying eyes.

You had a feeling that the path you were on, and maybe all the FBI officers that end up involved, was going to be a rough one.

“Come with me.” Ray said suddenly, tapping your arm.

“Wha- Again?” You answered as you hurried to your feet. “Where are we going?”

“We’re gonna convince Hattley to give us the Fisk detail.”

“What? No, Ray, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, c’mon.” He groaned as you two reached the SAC’s door. “You and I were the only agents to get anything out of him since he got locked up!”

“You think that matters? You have whatever issues - I’m guessing finances since you’re so desperate - and I’m still new SWAT with a conflict of interest. Besides, in case you couldn’t tell, I don’t like Fisk. I don’t like the way he looks at people. I don’t like the way he talks to people. There is no way in hell I go in there and ask for that.”

“Look, he’s afraid of whatever you know. Right? He believes that you can get to Vanessa, without even trying. If you stay involved, even as backup - just a presence in the room. Y/L/N, I promise you, we can get enough for everyone for years.”

“Wow, okay, so you’re just not listening to the whole ‘conflict of interest’ issue? I worked at the firm that built the case that got him locked up and had a tenement case against him. I want that man to die in jail. I don’t care what he can give or what I can take away. You wanna ask her for it? Go ahead. If she asks my opinion, I’ll back you on it. Just leave me out of it.”

All the while, Matt was sulking in the church basement when Sister Maggie came to check on him.

“Give yourself time to heal or you’re gonna get yourself killed.” She said simply.

“You’re probably right.” Matt said quickly before swallowing the pills.

“Is that what you wanted?”

Instead of answering her question, Matt changed the subject.

“She found me last night… Y/N.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“No, I.. I ran off.”

“Do you wish you had talked to her?”

“I heard her heartbeat.. Seemed like the first time when she didn’t let me hear it but I heard it on my own. Something about her is different…”

“She’s been through a lot since you’ve been gone, not just counting what you did.”

“What happened?” Matt asked softly.

“Maybe if you let her be here, there’d be less of your self-pitying bullshit to throw around. She could knock some sense into you and you could ask her yourself.”

“Why did you become a nun?” He asked instead when he realized she wouldn’t tell him. He’d have to find a chance to ask Y/N instead.

“I heard God’s call.”

“So you feel like being a nun is what you’re meant to be?”

“Yes.” She said with finality. “Very much.”

“What if you couldn’t be anymore? If it were taken from you?”

“Your point being that if we can’t fulfill our calling, we might be better off as worm food?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Okay.. But let me ask you something first. What do you think Y/N’s calling is?”

He sighed heavily as he thought about it. As much as he missed her and he yearned her - as much as his own heart was probably betraying him and calling out for her in a way only she would feel - he didn’t want to talk about her. He didn’t want to be reminded of the pain he’d caused her. The way he essentially abandoned her at Midland Circle.

“Helping people.” He said finally, deciding how he wanted to word it. “Y/N was always meant to help people. Inside the law or outside of it, she knew she could make a difference.”

“I wouldn’t lose faith, Matthew, if I couldn’t fulfill my calling.” She explained with a slight edge to her voice. “I’d find some other purpose.”

“If you can be anything else, it was never really your calling.” Matt countered bitterly. “Just tell me, honestly. If you could no longer be a nun, wouldn’t you grieve?”

“Of course I would.. But this isn’t grief. This is-“

“Just please… Go away.”

“I understand what it’s like to feel lost.” She offered, with a much gentler tone than before. “It happened to me too once, a long time ago when I was still a novitiate. I left the order for a while.”

“Why?”

“I was considering a very different life… It was wonderful and terrifying. I struggled to know which life God wanted me to choose. I prayed. I looked for signs. In the end, I had to do my best to figure it all out.”

“Well, that there is the difference between us. I no longer care what God wants.”

You found your way to the church that night after work. You were texting Dex when Sister Maggie came and sat beside you with a heavy sigh, the sigh of a woman almost too tired to keep pushing. But that, you realized, was something that set Sister Maggie apart from the other nuns you had met.

She was too stubborn to quit on anyone. And maybe that was why you liked talking to her, because it seemed like she wasn’t quitting on you.

“I thought you’d grown bored of this place.” She offered with a bit of amusement, though she was clearly worn down. “Or that little event scared you away.”

“No.” You chuckled. “He got me good, I’ll admit. And it was strange. But it takes more than a cheap shot to get rid of me.”

“We missed you this morning. Some of the older ladies.. They asked about the ‘sweet young girl who sits outside’.”

“That’s what they call me?” You smiled slightly.

“Well, they just don’t know better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“How are you today, Y/N?” She asked honestly.

“It has not been my favorite… Work was interesting. We had this raid and it worked, I’m not complaining about that. It’s what I’m supposed to be doing with this job, y’know? But… The guy that gave us the information, I can’t stand him. Honestly, Sister, I hate him. And I don’t like this feeling of having to be around him again.”

“Do you feel the FBI is your calling?”

“I don’t think I have a calling.” You said honestly. “I’ve tried a lot of different things. The assassin I was raised to be, a mercenary, a lawyer, a vigilante, private security, now FBI… I just wanted to help people who needed it, who were stuck under someone else’s thumb. People like me when I was little, with no one willing to protect them. And I have, in a lot of different ways, but I don’t know about my calling.”

“In some aspects, you remind me of Matthew… When he was younger, of course.”

“In a good way?”

She sighed slightly but offered a fond smile, remembering Matt as a child striking a sentimental cord.

“He was always angry, sometimes lost. He always seemed like he was fighting, be it against himself or the city’s darkness when he got older.” She continued, her eyes falling downward as she toyed with her fingers. “But at his core, he had a good heart, up until his end. And I truly believe you do, too.”

You smiled slightly. Maybe Matt was right after all. Maybe you did have your own light.

“What about you, Sister? What’s wearing you down today?”

“There’s a man who… Well, he’s a great many things. Stubborn, mainly, but also defeated. And I can’t seem to find what sparks a want to continue.”

“Is he alone? No friends or family.”

“He’s not. He has both, or had, I suppose. Friends, even a girlfriend. But he doesn’t want them to know where he is.”

“Sounds lonely..”

She hummed in agreement.

“So why not let him rot in his misery alone? If he’s so determined to isolate himself, maybe you should let him.”

“This one, I’m personally responsible for.”

“How so?”

“He grew up here.” She answered simply but there seemed to be something else there, though you didn’t ask.

“Ah… Well, if he’s really choosing this solitude, I’d say just be there for him, best you can be. He’ll probably keep trying to push and seclude himself but if you really feel you have to help him, just keep pushing back. I know that for me, after Matt, I pushed away the only two friends I thought I had in this city... And I thought that hiding behind Billy and Anvil… I thought those things could fix me, spark something in me, but they didn’t. It just made me feel worse until it got to a point where I didn’t want to feel anything. I didn’t want to die per say, but I didn’t wanna live like that anymore. So I buried everything and threw myself into a fight that didn’t really involve me, then I got stuck with this.” You shook the wrist with the brace.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Somewhere in between, I think. Nothing’s perfect and there’s still this hollowness in my chest but… I can talk about him without feeling like I’m suffocating. I realized that I can’t just shut everything off and expect people to stick around. I care about people and I have to kinda take the good with the bad, even when it almost kills me. When it takes a piece of me and buries it hundreds of feet below the city.”

“We all heal in our own ways.”

“Yeah.. Problem was, I didn’t know how to grieve on my own. When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to grieve. It was either someone came back or they didn’t. As long as you were still standing, you kept moving. And when Elektra died, I had Matt. But then Matt was gone and I went home every night to no one. I didn’t know what else to do other than distract myself. I’ve made mistakes but I’m trying to do better.”

“All we can do is take things one day at a time..” She nodded before she stood. “I truly do enjoy our little chats. Till next time, Y/N.”

“Good night, Sister.”

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