Matt Murdock (absolve) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-08-25 23:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *chel, *laura, claire temple, matt murdock |
25 August
Em O'Malley ✦ Micah O'Malley
Micah and Em experience the fallout from a knockout. PG Completed |
It was the first time she’d missed a match. All these years, and she’d never missed one. She’d rearranged her schedule hundreds of times to be there to cheer him on or pick up the pieces. Em had been reluctant to miss this one, but she had, and now? She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look so drained, and she’d seen him at his worst a dozen times over. Em sighed. Now, he was stretched out on a hospital bed, still save for the slow rise and fall of his chest. She’d taken up vigil in a seat beside his bed, alternating between holding his hand and twisting her rings around and around her finger. The hardest thing wasn’t having to play second fiddle to the staff at the hospital (though that, usually, was the most frustrating thing about Micah’s injuries, whenever they landed him in a clinic). It was the knowledge that he’d left home on a bad note, and she’d caused it. If the things she said to him before he left were the last things she ever got to say -- Em shivered. She didn’t think she could ever forgive herself. The bell clanged and clanged and clanged. Micah, blood pouring from his mouth, would have rose. He always got back up. It was what he was known for. But the opponent hit him so hard (and in just the right spot) that he was completely knocked out. No one was home. While another’s glove was hoisted into the air, Micah O’Malley was scooped onto a gurney and taken to a hospital to assess his damage. He had all kinds of damage to assess. But consciousness came back in small waves; a throbbing nose, burning knuckles, fluttering eyes. And as soon as he focused on Em, he realized what had happened. What rarely happened. I lost. A shallow breath announced him. “Hey.” All at once, she felt the air in her lungs leave her. “Oh my god.” She couldn’t decide if she wanted to yell at him or cry, so she ended up doing more of the latter, to start. She’d known he would wake up, of course. She’d known that, but it still hadn’t seemed like a real possibility until it was really happening. “You asshole,” she scolded, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. “I told you not to do that to me.” “ … yeah,” he smiled hazily, and licked his split lip. “You should see the other guy.” The other guy who got paid, who probably did what the rich bosses and other motherfuckers wanted out of him, and was now prepared to keep climbing. But instead he tried to laugh. It turned into a wince. “I think I got in one or two good hits.” “That’s -- that’s not funny,” Em hissed. She knew Micah well enough to know why he was deflecting, but it was still irritating. Any one of these matches could be the last one, the last time she saw him as he was right then. He couldn’t fend off permanent damage forever. But, she reminded herself, he was the one laid up, not her. He didn’t need a reminder of how bad it was. “What happened?” “He clocked me.” That seemed simple to say. But it was also wrong. He was intentionally knocked out and Micah didn’t know how to say it to Em. “He clocked me and I didn’t block him.” He rose stiffly in the bed and attempted to reach for the pitcher of water. “You didn’t block him,” Em echoed, her voice flat with disbelief. That didn’t sound much like the man she loved, to not fight back or to not be prepared. She frowned and waved him off, reaching for the pitcher before he could keep trying. He was stubborn even when he was hurt; maybe even more so then. “You rest. Don’t push it, okay? You really took a good one, Micah, I - you’ve gotta take it easy.” “Well, I tried …” was far too lame a beginning, so he stopped before he got properly started. He took a shallow breath, one that made his ribs ache and so his hands went from the tray to hold them still. “Yeah. I stick up for my morals and this is what happens. It’s a younger, dirty man’s game.” Em was in the middle of pouring Micah a cup of water when she heard stick up for my morals, and she stilled. (She’d heard the intake of breath, the pain hidden underneath, but there was little that she, specifically, could do about that.) Slowly, she turned and put the cup down on the tray in front of him. “What are you talking about?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even and calm so she didn’t give away how her heart stuttered a little in anticipation and fear. Fuck. Micah looked up at her, gaze slick with apology. He hadn’t had the guts to tell her before the match. He’d barely been able to look at Abe after telling him about his manager’s polite suggestions veiled as requirements and threats. His fingertips grazed the pitcher of water, sliding in the condensation on the side for something better to do than feel stupid. And played. And disingenuous. “Last week, Smith stopped me during practice and we went to talk in his office. I thought he was going to say gee O’Malley, you’re not so young but you’re going to show everyone you’ve still got it. Instead he told me that a very interested party was very interested in me not winning the match. As in, I should throw it and get paid really well.” If she hadn’t been a doctor, she might have mistaken the feeling in her chest as a heart attack. It couldn’t have been healthy for her heart to feel like it stopped for a few seconds, but that was how it felt. She pulled back and folded her arms across her chest so she wouldn’t feel tempted to hit him. “Did you lose on purpose?” The anger in her voice was controlled, but barely. Em hadn’t thought Micah was capable of something like that. She hadn’t thought he would keep something like that from her. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why -- what were you thinking? Or have you gotten knocked in the head too many times to think straight?” The righteous indignation started welling up. His hands balled into fists within the quilts and he managed to simply keep staring at her. “Are you fucking serious right now?” Em blinked and stared back at her, a little taken aback, but he was right to be angry at what she’d thrown at him. She should have known he wouldn’t have taken that bait. He did say he’d stood up for his morals. She’d just been too blind with shock to think clearly herself. “Well, did they punish you for saying no instead? Because that’s -- Micah, if that’s what happened, you can’t --” Her throat felt tight just thinking about what could have happened, what could happen if he pissed off the wrong person. She knew he wouldn’t take well to her saying he couldn’t fight again, so she didn’t. “You should have told me what was going on. They could’ve killed you and you didn’t even tell me.” “I didn’t because I was scared!” was a bellow. And it cost him. He twisted back in the pillows, face contorting to school himself through the pain. It was difficult. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by the pillow. “I didn’t think I was going to actually lose after I made a big show of not giving into them. But, you know. What the hell do I actually know.” She honestly hadn’t thought he might lose, either. He was good. He was smart, more importantly. That was why she’d jumped next to thinking he’d been set up, to show him a lesson, to get back at him. It was all so hard to understand. But she’d wilted a little at the way he yelled and at the look on his face. Now wasn’t really the right time to scold him. They had a lot they needed to talk about, evidently, but she could wait until he was feeling better, right? She exhaled, and rubbed at her temple. “Okay. Okay.” She’d been scared too, she thought. They were supposed to be a team, too, and she didn’t understand where this distance had come from. “I’m sorry.” “ … it’s f --” he smiled weakly and watched her through the holes in the hospital bars. He could wish a million times that he would have told her before he stepped into the ring. But with hindsight came the new foresight. He was stuck. “When I get out of here, we need to talk about next steps.” Em wished that he could bring himself to apologize, too, but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. It hurt too much to think about, still, and she was afraid she might not be able to hold her emotions back. “The next steps?” She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?” “I don’t think this is gonna be a one time thing, Em.” He couldn’t imagine that this request to fix a match, his refusal and his treatment at the hands of the boxer they must have paid actually would go well and he could just return to his career. He reached out, hands skating over to grasp her by the elbow. Softly -- “I’m sorry.” She flinched at the touch and almost pulled away -- she was still angry at him, still hurt that he’d kept something of that magnitude away from her and let her think everything would be fine -- but she caved and leaned into it instead. “I was scared too,” she whispered. She slid her arm up so she could take his hand instead. “I didn’t know how bad it was, if this might be the one time you didn’t wake up again and I couldn’t get here in time and I --” Her voice cracked and she looked away so she could wipe her eyes. “I’m glad you said no.” He held on tightly, as if to prove to Em that he had no intention of going anywhere that she couldn’t follow. Quietly - “You think I’ll get to leave tomorrow? If so, go home. You need your rest.” Helpless, Em shrugged. “Dunno. Probably, if you’re good. Helps that I can take care of you fine myself.” But she wanted to see the results of the tests that the doctors were running, wanted to make sure his head was going to be okay. She’d sign him out against medical orders if she had to, but she also wasn’t going to take any more chances with him. “I’m not leaving, though,” she added. “It’s a long drive, and I won’t be able to sleep at home without you there, so… so.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line, jaw clenched. “I’m staying.” “Okay.” A nod. He had robbed her of choices to make before the match. Now, with his head spinning and people clearly mad, he was glad that she would be there to call for security. He was just glad that she would be there. In fact, he let down the rail near his shoulder and moved back in the bed, giving her room to climb in with him. As frustrated as she was about all of the things he’d neglected to tell her, Em knew she really couldn’t resist what he was offering. She made a show of it, though, heaving a sigh and rolling her eyes as she stood up, kicked off her shoes and sat down. “We’re gonna get in trouble,” she warned him, because she knew how places like this worked, but she didn’t actually care. When she settled on her side, she made sure to keep enough distance between them so she didn’t rest too much weight on his ribs. “Don’t scare me like that again.” It was a mild threat, but mostly she wanted him to take her seriously. She brushed her fingers across his forehead. “I’m serious.” But for her show of annoyance all she got - from him - in return was a hungry gaze. As she laid next to him, he lifted one arm and gingerly let it lay across her waist while his forehead found the space between them lacking. His eyes fluttered heavily. “Promise you I won’t, Star of the Sea.” His lips curled up in a much bruised, but boyish grin. “Ugh,” Em groaned. “You’re ridiculous.” But she was smiling back at him when she leaned in to kiss him gently. “You’re lucky you’re hurt and cute or I’d hit you for that.” “ … hey I got you in bed with me, it’s all worth it.” And as flirty, as ridiculous, as saccharine as his reply, it was clear he wasn’t intending to do much about it other than probably snore in her ear. “Not like it was hard to do.” Not that it had ever been hard to do, Em thought. She’d always been weak when it came to him, right from the beginning. No matter how hard she’d tried to resist, she’d always known it was inevitable. He seemed comfortable, so Em felt a little more confident about scooting closer. She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Now stop hitting on me and try to rest. I’m not going anywhere.” “Right --” And he’d meant to say more. But with Em close to him, with her warmth enveloping him, there really wasn’t much else to say. He felt safe. Protected. Most importantly, he felt loved. That feeling, above all, loosened him enough to let his eyelids droop completely. In less than half a minute, he was snoring lightly through his broken nose. She kept playing with his hair until she felt him relax and fall asleep, and then she stilled and closed her own eyes. Her mind wasn’t ready to shut off yet, too full of worries and questions, but for the first time since she’d gotten the call, she felt like they were going to be okay. They had a lot to talk about, but they were going to be okay. |