Blurry Vision ∷ Daredevil; Matthew Murdock

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Chapter 12

"How old?" Matt asks in a sympathetic voice.

I roll my eyes slightly in annoyance, but then they drift back down to the fresh cup of coffee he made for me, "Ten."

"I was nine when my dad died... I didn't even get to see his face one last time." He says, striking a bit of sorrow in me.

"...It's better if you didn't see him one last time. Preserve his memory when he was alive." I tell him, but the words seem to go right through him.

"Did you see your mom die?" He asks.

I stay silent and instead press the cup of coffee to my lips.

He looks away slightly, nodding his head, "...I'm sorry."

"Don't be. What were you going to do? Jump in front of the bullet? ...don't think there was space for two saviors." My voice cracks slightly, giving my heartbreak away.

He reaches out to comfort me but I block his arm, "I'm fine."

"Well obviously your not."

"I'm not the one running around in a suit in the middle of the night trying to get myself killed." I say defensively making him laugh.

"And you bring that up-"

"Yes! I bring 'that' up! Your sitting here and...and... why are you sitting here?" I stop myself short to truly look at him for the first time tonight.

He has had the same worried and caring expression since he took the mask off. Why?

I've punched him, I've kicked him, he's slammed us both into a glass table, but here he is...sitting, talking. He made me a new coffee for gods sake! He refuses to let me stand up on my leg. ...all because he...cares?

"Ember," he sounds just like my mother when he says my name. Soft, caring, ...protective. "You're hurt. And I'm the reason you are hurt."

"You didn't push me up the-"

"The stairs isn't the reason your leg is broken, I am, and Frank is." He says, putting his hand gently on top of my leg.

I flinch slightly at his touch, but then I just look down at it, then up at him. 

"Matt, it's not your-"

"Ember, it is, and I'm sorry. Please let me make it up to you." His eyes bore into me, and my face is burning red.

"How so?" I ask carefully.

He smiles slightly at my answer, "Well first I can bandage your leg properly."

I look down at my makeshift splint and laugh, "Well I don't suppose your a doctor.."

"No, but I know a thing or two about bandaging people up." He says, smiling when I laugh.

"Take it away, doc." I say jokingly, making him chuckle.

He pulls apart my bandages and feels against my leg, and I'm not exactly sure why.

"You tore your-"

"ACL? I know, its happened before." I say making a side smile appear.

"Miracle that you're even able to sort of walk." He says, while reaching over to my bag of first aid stuff.

"My body has been through worse than an ACL tear." I say rather calmly.

He starts to make a WAY better splint and... shit for a blind guy, he knows what hes doing.

"Don't suppose you're going to let me leave the building anytime soon now." I mumble.

"Depends what you have to do, you have a meeting with the Director don't you?" He reminds me and my eyes widen at what my dumbass self did.

I stand up suddenly and pace past him, "Fuck!"

"Ember! Stop-"

"Do you have any fucking idea what I just did? He let me off! Now I'm coming back and telling him to shove the position he gave me up his ass!" I panic, hitting him away from me, and pulling against my hair frustratedly.

"Ember-"

"NO! You have no fucking idea what I just did! I just... fuck..." I rub my face, sighing deeply.

"Ember..."

My eyes drift off toward the door, "You should probably go."

"Please, I don't want you to walk on your leg." He says reaching out to me.

I take a step back, biting back my wince, "Please...just go."

His face softens at the tone of my voice.

I sound pathetic. Helpless. The reason he is here is because I can't walk. Weak. He is trying to help me. He wants to make sure I'm safe. He doesn't think I can handle myself.

But I can.

And I'll prove it.

~~~~

I sit calmly in an office chair at an oversized glass table, waiting for my incoming scolding.

Like the fucking child I am.

The door opens and I stand, the Director eying me down, with both Agent Romanoff and Steven Rogers next to him.

My trainer and my basically commanding officer.

"Heard you had some problems with your current position." He says while they take a seat, but I continue standing.

I lift my leg up and rest it on the chair next to me.

"In the past five days I broke three ribs, got an concussion, several lacerations, and tore my ACL. My identity and current homing has been comprised. So yes, Director, I do have some problems with my current position." I say, straining to keep a calm persona, and not completely go mad.

He just gives me a blank stare, "You've had worse."

I put my leg back down and I sit down, "But in that case at least I got some shit done."

He leans back in his seat and give a look to Natasha, "Take it away Ms. Romanoff."

She nods slightly, a stone cold stare on me, "We took you in when you were seventeen. We trained you. And you were determined to avenge your mother. What the hell happened?"

I look down at my hands as they continue to dig at me, scold me, and tell me to suck it up.

"...but," She starts, catching my attention slightly, "We don't need another Frank Castle out there."

"Trying to force something that doesn't come naturally onto you was, admittedly a mistake on our part, so Ember, are you still able to climb onto roofs?" The Director says, making my face harden slightly in determination.

I nod, take a deep breath, and I hold it.