imnotdaredevil (imnotdaredevil) wrote in newalliance, @ 2014-03-14 16:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | daredevil, iron fist, maria hill |
Who: Matt Murdock + Open
What: Matt cleans house and tries to get his life back in order.
Where: Matt's Brownstone, Hell's Kitchen NYC
When: March 14th, 2014
Rating: PG
It had been weeks since the Skrull Invasion- since he'd stumbled out of the mothership and into the sunlight for the first time in nearly a year, overwhelmed by the sudden smell and sound and busyness of the city he'd grown up in. He'd thrown up nearly the whole way back to Hell's Kitchen (though thankfully not in the Director of SHIELD's car), stepped into his home and found the whole place annihilated; just like the rest of his life.
The best he could do at the time was pick his way around the broken glass, wood, cement and the rest to get down to the basement. He locked himself in, pressed his cheek against the cold concrete floor and let the near-silence underground soothe him to sleep. The only sounds were those of the house, creaking or shuffling, the atmospheric buzz of electricity humming through the circuits, the low groan of the furnace kicking to life. The smells were familiar too- hand chalk and old leather, stale sweat he was certain was his own and cold dirt. He finally stopped throwing up and slept, hard, for sixteen hours, getting up only to use the bathroom in the basement and drink water.
That had been the first day.
For the first week, he hadn't left the basement. He'd managed to get the door open at the top of the stairs before his sense were overwhelmed and he had to retreat again. Matt had gritted his teeth though, and dug in, and every day he managed to get further and further into his home. It was a few more days before he had been able to traverse the entire house like he'd once done without forethought, grimacing at the fact that he had to use his cane to feel his way through his own house to keep from stepping on glass or broken furniture, wrapping his knuckles on walls to inspect the damage with his radar sense.
Only after taking thorough stock of the scene, only after he was fully comfortable being in his own home again, only after he could open the windows without retching violently out of one-- only then did Matt start cleaning.
Now, a little over two weeks after he'd returned to New York, the house had begun to look like a house again. Matt had the doors and windows open today-- the debris on the floor was gone an all broken objects had been taking out. The ruined walls and doors had been stripped and were under construction-- which had Matt wrinkling his nose and trying not to sneeze over the sawdust that clogged his lungs and distorted his hearing-- but today was the last day. He probably should have stayed in a hotel, but Matthew Murdock was nothing if not stubborn, after after spending so far away from home, he wasn't about to leave again any time soon.
Today the drywall would be finished, a fresh coat of paint applied over the weekend, and even new furniture would be delivered on Saturday (though it would undoubtedly all end up in one room while the paint dried).
And then, after all this time, maybe he could start to get his life back on course.
With the construction noise and dust fogging his senses, Matt had to use his cane to tap his way to the front stoop, scowling a little at the inconvenience, but moved down the front stairs to sit on one of the wide brick stair rails that separated his home from the neighbors, and leaned back against one, crossing his feet at the ankle and desperately trying to drink in some fresh air. With all this commotion, it would have been very difficult for him to know if a visitor was approaching...