WHO: Sam Winchester & Matt Murdock WHAT: exploring the underwater city of Atlantis, or rather, having a conversation in their bubble pod thing. WHERE: Atlantis, under the ocean WHEN: a few days into the Atlantis port, so yeah - backdated. WARNINGS: talking about demons/devils/angels and how they relate to faith... nothing really bad, it's just a heavy topic.
It was good to have Matt back again. He wasn’t the same Matt that Sam had gotten to know in Mt Weather, but Sam was learning that different versions of a person didn’t matter as much as it might seem.
Not all the time, at least. Sometimes different versions were very different. Sam already felt like a different version of himself, now that he’d been here so long. Kate had been asking him about whether he would choose to stay or go home, and Sam wasn’t sure he knew how to be the person he was back home - the person that would have chosen to sacrifice everything for the hunt and the sake of the world, including his life here.
Then again, that person had been selfish enough to try to leave hunting behind multiple times. So maybe he was still the same.
He couldn’t help thinking about that after breakfast, as they made their way out into Atlantis. It was in the back of his mind as he tried to describe everything to Matt as they went -- the architecture of the buildings, the way the people looked and behaved, the blue of the sky and the sight of the ocean as a backdrop to everything. He already knew without being told -- without being told by this Matt, anyway -- that Matt could see, in a way; he could get the shape of things and their movements and their scents, but he didn’t get the colors, the details, the subtleties. Sam did his best to fill all that in.
He described the dock where the bubble pod transportation was kept, and the person that seemed to be in charge. He and Matt both asked a lot of questions about how it worked. And then, shortly after, they were in the pod together, alone.
“It really does look like a bubble,” Sam said to Matt, after they were lying down inside it. “It’s clear.” Because they were not yet under the water, he hesitantly reached out and touched the bubble, finding it not quite solid but also not nearly as breakable as a normal bubble would be, and described that as well, although Matt was perfectly capable of touching it himself. “Right now we’re floating on the surface, but the water’s coming up higher around the edges. The waves are lapping at the bubble a little bit. It’s going slow, but we’ll be completely submerged soon.”
--
By this time, Matt had been taken around Atlantis by two other people - Trish and Elektra - but a third time with Sam wasn’t considered boring or redundant. He hadn’t gone under the water before, and Matt found that everybody had their different take on the city, noticed details that the others missed. Matt appreciated Sam’s play by play descriptions while sitting in the bubble. His ears could pick up how they were slowly submerging, could feel them sinking and how the water was reacting around the pod, but to hear Sam talk about them made him smile a little. He reached out and stoked the encasement.
“That’s cool,” he commented, after finding that it had more give than he anticipated. He kept one hand there, while the other held on to his cane, when he realized, “I probably won’t need this under water,” and started to disassemble it - pulling the pieces apart and folding them into a manageable package that he could hook on his belt.
“I’ve got to admit, it’s a little unnerving, practically being trapped in here. But if others have already went through it, then it ought to be safe.” His head tilted up as he took a sniff. Whatever gas they were using to give them gills were already being pumped into the chamber. It was nearly undetectable, but he could distinguish the subtle difference between the gas and normal oxygen. Matt opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated when He wondered, was Sam one of those people who knew his secret or not? It made him frown, and he asked, “You said you knew me before?”
---
“No, I imagine we’ll be swimming,” Sam agreed. He wasn’t entirely sure how guiding Matt through the water was going to work, but they could figure it out. He thought Matt’s heightened senses would probably help with that, too, if it was too awkward for him to hold on to Sam.
He felt it too, the slight anxiety about being trapped, about going under the water. But it was not the first time Sam had been in confined spaces or subjected to a strange method for survival under circumstances he wouldn’t normally be able to, so he simply sat down, leaned back, and watched the water come up around the pod. “I think we’ll be alright.”
The movement of the water was something he found calming, so he’d pretty much gotten past the nerves and into excitement for the new experience. He was trying to imagine what the underwater city was going to be like, and so it took a moment to drag his thoughts back to the conversation when Matt spoke again. “What? Oh, yeah. I knew another version of you in Mt. Weather, and I spoke to you -- you you, I think -- when you were in Tumbleweed before. And -- if I’m being entirely honest, I’d heard of you before then, from the comics about you at home.”
--
Matt’s head was cocked in such a way that his right ear was directed toward the nearest wall of the pod - he was listening with fascination, but it didn’t last long. He nodded at Sam’s comment. “The red haired version,” Matt said, dryly. “The one where Rick Jones is from. I’ve been told he’s kind of a dick.” He smiled and chuckled as he often did when in his Matt persona, hiding awkwardness and embarrassment. The smile faded quickly enough into a more contemplateive expression. That’s when he asked Sam, “I suppose you already know. About Daredevil?” He kept it purposely vague enough, on the off case that Sam hadn’t been told.
---
“I didn’t think he was a dick,” Sam said, but the corner of his mouth quirked too, in vague amusement. “He helped me save my brother.”
He crossed his arms behind his head as he lay back, watching the ocean close above their heads. It was not as scary as he’d expected it to be. The bubble seemed to be adjusting the pressure nicely. He thought he could smell some of the gases starting to enter the little chamber, the ones that were supposed to give them gills, but he didn’t feel any noticeable change in his neck or cheek areas just yet. He brushed a finger over one side of his neck just to be sure.
He glanced over at Matt. He could tell the other man was listening, and he was curious to know what Matt could hear under the water, but before he could ask, Matt spoke first. “Yeah,” he said. “That secret’s out back home in my world, I’m afraid. Comic books and a movie.”
He shrugged. “My secrets are all over the place too, here and at home. It’s not the way I’d prefer people got to know me, but I’m getting used to it.”
--
“A movie, too?” Matt chuckled, but it was more out of nerves, the whole idea made him uncomfortable. “Was it any good?” he joked to cover his feelings. The alternative universe Matt saved Sam’s brother? This was news to Matt. “He did?” Matt turned his ear toward Sam, his mood serious, but also curious. “What happened?”
---
“Eh,” Sam said, smiling a little. “It was okay. I doubt it had much of anything to do with your life, but maybe similar things. I haven’t seen it in a long time, I don’t really remember much.”
He remembered the things that had happened here much more clearly, although even that was a bit fuzzy. It was mostly to do with the fact that right around that time, he’d gotten memories dumped into his head while he was sleeping, and keeping those two timelines straight had been relatively easy in Mt. Weather, but it was harder now that he also had memories of an island, and Tumbleweed, and space, and the list only seemed to be getting longer.
“My brother, Dean, turned into a demon,” he said. “Matt - he helped me contain him. And I think it involved the demon trying to possess him, too, but it got -- confused, I guess, by all his senses, I think? That’s what he told me afterward, at least.” He sighed. “I wish he hadn’t gotten dragged into that.” He paused, and then added again with a wry smile, “Probably I should let you keep your distance from me and my family’s demon and devil drama this time around, although it might be too late for that already.”
--
“Probably another alternative universe,” Matt said dismissively about the movie. He wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to know more about it, the idea of his life being laid bare and displayed for anybody to watch didn’t sit well with him. He’d done many things he wasn’t proud of, and wouldn’t want anybody to know about them - what if some of those moments were in the movie? For the time being, it was better not to know.
Demon? Devil? Matt cocked his head curiously in Sam’s direction upon hearing the word, definitely getting his attention with a frown. He’d been among the Displaced long enough to know there were vampires and Harry Potter people, and all matter of sorts around, so Matt thought nothing would surprise him. But discussion of actual demons were so close to home, that it disturbed him on a personal level.
Matt covered up his true feelings, as he usually did, with a smile and a chuckle. “Yeah, a little too late,” he agreed, as he let his smile fade. “How… how did get possessed by a demon? And how did you help him get rid of it?”
---
“In this case, he was actually the demon,” Sam answered. “Usually, demons in my world are souls that are tortured and corrupted in hell. Which also happened to him, earlier on, but - in this case, he’d taken the Mark of Cain so that he could use the First Blade to kill a demon, but the Mark also corrupted his soul.”
He ran his fingers absently over the inside of the bubble over his head. “So we had to cure him, with a kind of purification ritual, and then remove the Mark so that it wouldn’t happen all over again.”
--
Mark of Cain? First Blade? These were terms that Matt wasn’t familiar with, but their very names and Biblical connotations gave him hints as to what they were about. Matt’s first thought about hearing Sam’s description of what demons were, was to consider his own situation. He’d described to his priest that sometimes, while fighting as Daredevil, if felt like he was letting a demon loose, feeding into a destructive nature that could corrupt his soul. Matt dipped his head down with a worried expression upon his face. “How do you know if somebody has the Mark?” he asked, wondering maybe that he had one. “What kind of ritual was it?”
---
“It’s a very literal mark,” Sam said. “On the inside of a person’s forearm, like a bumpy scar. You’d be able to feel it if you touched it.”
He wasn’t sure precisely what it was about the idea of the Mark that was worrying Matt so much, but hopefully that would help to put his mind at ease. Until he knew that something else was wrong, he just figured he’d keep answering Matt’s questions. “Curing a demon requires injecting them with purified blood. Purifying blood means… confession. Which worked even for me, even though… I have demon blood in my veins, even though I’m not possessed. So I guess… confession really is good for you.”
--
“Confession?” Matt asked for clarification. “LIke, like a formal one? WIth a priest? What sort of confession does one have to make?” Matt was ceratin he didn’t have a bumpy scar on his forearm, but wasn’t quite as sure about his eternal soul.
---
“I did mine in an abandoned church,” Sam said. “So no, it doesn’t have to be formal. I think it just has to really cover everything that you’ve done, really make you feel like all your sins are on the table to be cleared away. Which for me, was a lot easier without someone - other than God and angels - listening. But as the demon cure was originally invented by a priest, I’d think a formal confession would work just as well.”
He shrugged, and then added wryly, “I have a lot more darkness than most people, and a lot more literal experience with demons and devils. A priest hearing my confession might think I’m the actual antichrist.”
--
Feeling a bit better than before, Matt could sit back in his seat and relax a little. He’d been to confession many times back home, and while he’d never explicitly told Father Lantom what he was doing, the priest could piece it together and knew what was going on in Matt’s head more than most. According to Sam, that was enough? Then why did he still feel a tinge of guilt?
“Well you do hunt demons for a living, and your brother was possessed by one, so yeah, I’d say your contact with darkness is pretty much unavoidable. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re the antichrist.” He smirked to lighten the mood, but then asked, “Are you a Catholic, Sam?”
---
“Oh, I was fated for this job - and everything with the demons and angels - for a long time before I was born,” Sam said. “So it was definitely unavoidable.” He smiled slightly. “And I’ve worked really, really hard not to be the antichrist, so I’m glad to hear that.”
He felt a tingle at his neck and reached up to brush his fingers over it, but didn’t feel any changes on the surface just yet. He was pretty sure something was starting to happen though. Or maybe it was just that he knew it was supposed to, so he was imagining it. “No, I’m not any particular religion. I… used to pray, before I figured out it was God and the angels that had plans for me I didn’t want. So I don’t anymore.”
--
It was at this point that Matt decided he didn’t want to continue this line of conversation. Matt knew on one level that Sam and he were from two separate universes, and that his version of God and angels were different from what he was accustomed to hearing, and that Sam had some personal and unfortunate experiences, but the topic was hitting too close to home. He turned his face away from Sam, toward the shell of their vehicle.
“What’s going on out there?” he asked. “Describe it to me?” Matt could tell there was movement - fish, mostly - buy he hoped that Sam would take the hint.
--
Sam noticed the apparent shift in Matt’s mood, but didn’t comment on it. He understood what it was like to have faith, and to be brought up against the harsh realities of what God and angels were really like. For Matt’s sake, he hoped that it was different back in Matt’s world, or at the very least that the heavenly beings would treat him better if they ever met, since - so far as Sam knew - Matt did not have a prescribed fate to help the devil end the world.
He took the hint, and looked outside. There was not a lot new yet to describe, but he started to talk about it anyway, and continued to keep up a running commentary as they continued to descend.