Matt Murdock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aworldonfire) wrote2016-03-26 10:26 pm
aworldonfire) wrote2016-03-26 10:26 pm
Entry tags:
rp | i need to question what i need
The decision was a long-time coming, and probably not the best one he'd made lately, but none of the decisions he'd made in the last few months could be considered good, and what did he really have to lose, at this point? He'd already driven Foggy off, Elektra was dead, Stick was gone -- what was one more relationship lost to his bullshit? At least this way, Karen could hate him knowing. At least this way, she'd finally have the explanation she deserved and had deserved for a long time -- since before Elektra, maybe, or at least since right after.
Where ever Stick had gone off to after their impromptu service, he wondered if he was proud. This was it. This was the end of Matt Murdock's personal relationships. It was everything he'd wanted for him, everything he'd tried to beat into him as a child. It made him sick to think about.
Letting out a breath, he paused by the door to Nelson & Murdock (just Murdock, now, if he went back to law at all) and took a moment to steel himself, fingers spidering in and out of the paper of the bag tucked into his arm absently. When he felt steadier or at least braced for impact, the lines of his body tight, now, he pushed into the office and took a moment to fold up his cane, drop it into the chair by the door.
"What am I doing here, Matt?"
He took a handful of steps towards her, reaching into the bag as he went. "I, uh -- I have something."
He could feel her recoil. Logically, he shouldn't have been surprised, given all she'd just gone through (for all she knew, her former boss had finally snapped, for all she knew, he was about to pull a gun on her), but it still hurt. As did the stammered, "No, I don't want it," that followed.
He forced himself to stop, for both their sakes. "I have something that I need you to see."
Heart leaping into his throat in spite of himself, he closed a hand around the mask and forced himself to pull it out. He pushed it in her direction with shaking fingers, trying to ignore the way her heart seemed to start, stop, trying to ignore the look of surprise, horror, something else, he wasn't sure, that dawned on her face. He blew out a breath, instead.
"I'm Daredevil."
Where ever Stick had gone off to after their impromptu service, he wondered if he was proud. This was it. This was the end of Matt Murdock's personal relationships. It was everything he'd wanted for him, everything he'd tried to beat into him as a child. It made him sick to think about.
Letting out a breath, he paused by the door to Nelson & Murdock (just Murdock, now, if he went back to law at all) and took a moment to steel himself, fingers spidering in and out of the paper of the bag tucked into his arm absently. When he felt steadier or at least braced for impact, the lines of his body tight, now, he pushed into the office and took a moment to fold up his cane, drop it into the chair by the door.
"What am I doing here, Matt?"
He took a handful of steps towards her, reaching into the bag as he went. "I, uh -- I have something."
He could feel her recoil. Logically, he shouldn't have been surprised, given all she'd just gone through (for all she knew, her former boss had finally snapped, for all she knew, he was about to pull a gun on her), but it still hurt. As did the stammered, "No, I don't want it," that followed.
He forced himself to stop, for both their sakes. "I have something that I need you to see."
Heart leaping into his throat in spite of himself, he closed a hand around the mask and forced himself to pull it out. He pushed it in her direction with shaking fingers, trying to ignore the way her heart seemed to start, stop, trying to ignore the look of surprise, horror, something else, he wasn't sure, that dawned on her face. He blew out a breath, instead.
"I'm Daredevil."
no subject
There was a note of sarcasm to all of that, the last remnants of his lingering upset, and while he intended to go on after a pause for effect, a better answer was derailed by her question. He let it go, closing his eyes as tightly as he'd held onto the mask just a moment before, hurt in spite of himself. It was a logical question, given what his nightlife entailed, one Foggy had already asked, one he should be used to by now, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. He was a liar, yes, he'd give her that, but he wouldn't fake something like that. It would have been an insult to the disabled in much the same way Castle thought using PTSD as a defense was an insult to people actually suffering it.
"Yeah," he answered when he felt like he'd gotten his wind back. "It's -- complicated, but yeah."
no subject
"Well I'm not going to be ruined by you, Matt." It's already too late for that. Her whole life had been ruined. He and Foggy were the only ones who've held her together this long. She was not giving up on them just as they hadn't given up on her.
"How do you do what you do then? Because the way you move..."
no subject
He forced himself to stop there, shook his head again. He didn't address that particular part of her commentary, beyond.
"It's -- " he started again, searching for the words that had become sort of a script, these last few months, explaining things to Claire, again to Foggy. "I can hear really well. Feel things, like how the air moves around something that's stationary, or when someone moves. I know you saw Ben's old boss -- Ellison? -- earlier because I can smell his cologne on you." A beat. "And his scotch."
He flashed Karen a brief, wry smile.
"Put it all together, and it kind of -- it makes up for what I can't see."