Matt Murdock (blindlawyer) wrote in incompletedata, @ 2017-09-09 17:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | marvel: mcu: matt murdock |
It was cruel of them to put Claire so close to him. He spent his sleepless nights sitting on his bed listening to the pacing of her heartbeat slow down, counting it against her breaths, obsessing over all the things she'd told him that had happened in his absence. A part of him was still not satisfied with the answers she'd given him, but he was coming to terms with all this different times, different universe business. She had run uptown away from the madness but now it seemed like there was nowhere for either of them to run. And as hard as he tried to respect her wishes, to accept that everything between them would have amounted to nothing because for better or worse he's made his peace with his questionable life decisions, nothing could change the fact that she was the lucky girl who had pulled him out the garbage and saved his life. She would always be the first to know what the idiot running around Hell's Kitchen with a pantyhose on his head trying to win a fight he didn't have any hope of winning on the legal battlegrounds actually looked like behind the mask. He trusted her more so than he trusted anyone else here, even the ones who claimed to know him. And her arrival was keeping him grounded, more so than he would ever let on. Two shadows cast by dimmed nightlights shining around his legs under her door melded into one as he turned and sat down on the floor outside her door. As much as he wanted to talk to her to kill the night away instead of working out until exhaustion wrapped dull, aching tendrils around his muscles, she was sleeping so peacefully he didn't want to wake her. Well, she said she'd be there to patch him up, if he needed her. Nothing physical needed patching up right now, but she probably wasn't expecting to follow him all the way to this compound. And yeah, maybe he did just manage to turn unlucky shit happening to the two of them into something he should feel guilty over. He's good at that. The broken martyr said a silent prayer and left his Greninja plushie outside her door twenty-three seconds before she opened it that morning. |