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» WHO? Matt Murdock & OPEN
» WHEN? Now
» WHERE? Deck 6 => 6.27 => Deck 5
» WHAT? Arrival
» WARNINGS? TBC

Arrival Hall (CLOSED to Frank Castle)
It's cold.

He's not where he was before. He knows that much. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets his senses go, scanning his surroundings like an uncalibrated radar. Metal. Lots of metal, clanging, banging. But everything is wrong. Lighter, like things are floating even when they're not. People are talking. Laughing, maybe. But distant, like the next apartment building over, or somewhere down the next block. The fine hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand with the low buzz-hum of the vessel, creaking, engine churning like an old ship, suspended in space.

It's like a hangover, except. He feels heavy even though he's light. Shackles on his feet. His head hurts. Everything hurts. And God, what is that noise?

Less of a waking up, more of regaining consciousness as Matt rolls over with a pained cry and a grimace.

His hand crawls over to the smartwatch, trying to mute the beeping and humming and screeching grating against his ears. What day is it? What time? What happened? He clutches the device with one hand and runs the other hand down his body. Daredevil's gone. Only Matthew. A jumpsuit covering the bandages. Stitches. Blood. No pearly gates, no apostles. No questions to answer about how he's lived his life, whether he's lived it well, whether he's repentant. Paid enough of a price. Just a jumpsuit... and a pair of boots?

"...lectra." Talking feels like rousing up a sandstorm in his throat. He groans and struggles to his feet, using energy he doesn't have to drive him forward. Out. Just the one thing on his mind.

I have to save her.

He gets blood on his palm as he presses his hand over a wet bandage, stitches having been ripped as he sluggishly stumbles deliriously down the corridor. His boots clunk along at an uneven, unsteady pace. Everything is too loud. Too cold. Too heavy. There's blood on the wall where he braced himself against it. And then there's a door. Everything flickers behind his closed eyelids. Black, red, black, red, black, black, black...

Room 6.27. Where everything's a little quieter. And he can just focus. Keep the red lights on in the dark.

6.27. Matthew. Chapter Six. Verse Twenty-Seven. 'Can any one of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your life?'

Hn. That's funny. The chuckle bubbles to the surface. For all the pain He's inflicted, God still has a decent sense of humour.

Departure Lounge (OTA)
He doesn't take kindly to being dumped in the med bay, but there's not much of a fight he can put up against Frank Castle in his current state. He's not sure how long he's been resting there, but when he's well enough to orientate himself again, he's not staying in the med bay. The machines are noisy. He has questions. He's scared.

Matt makes it two steps out of the med bay before space sickness kicks in. The sheer wrongness of the gravitational pull throws him off, throws everything around him off. He sinks down to his knees and clutches his head, curling up against the wall. He looks pale, like he's about to throw up.

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Frank catches Matt easily with a tiny noise in defeat, Max butting up against the man's legs from behind to try and get him to fall in line. The way the man tries to shove him away is annoying, but he's holding fast and digging rough fingers in because if he takes another fall it's just going to make everything worse.

"Stop fighting me, Murdock. We're almost there." He orders him through grit teeth, but still careful to keep his volume low as he hefts the man down the hallway. It's about the same as if he'd just carried him, he's definitely never being nice about this again. Lesson: learned. So when they finally, blessedly cross the threshold into the medbay, Frank doesn't wait for Matt to get on board this time. He picks him up in a dodgy princess carry and lays him gently down on the bed, taking a step back so it can work its wacky space magic.

He starts unzipping the bloody jumpsuit so he can make sure the man's wounds are mending, sighing in relief when it seems like he's finally not getting dicked over. How he went from shooting this idiot in the head to carrying him through two decks of a space station to make sure he was safe - well, that's not worth analyzing. Not until Matt is whole again.

There won't be a universe out there where Matt won't be fighting Frank. They'll always be butting heads. Right now he's busy dying and insisting he doesn't need help, but tomorrow there'll no doubt be something else that Matt will point an accusatory finger at Frank about. They probably don't know how else to interact with each other.

Frank gets a moment's reprieve while Matt reorients himself lying down, his hands feeling out the base he's lying on as his brows furrow in confusion. His head turns as the whirring gets a little louder, but there's no time to panic when he starts feeling like someone or something's sedated him.

He reaches out towards Frank's wrist but his fingertips graze over the soldier's skin and his hand falls limply to the side. A moment of peace seems to wash over him as the tension eases off his shoulders. Somewhere on the way Matt's dropped his communicator, or maybe it's still in the room, but for now nothing's disturbing him as his breathing and heartrate evens out into a slow, steady rhythm.

The touch to his wrist earns Matt a soft look, but then he's out for the count and that's probably for the best. Frank digs a hello kitty bandaid out of his pocket and sticks it on the man's face for good measure. There, he's helping. He tells Max to sit and pulls up a chair to Matt's bedside, wondering what happens next. He doesn't have a whole lot of fight left in him, honestly. Not for Matt anyway, he has to save his strength for the day it can get them all out of here. Oh yeah, that's right, Frank Castle has somehow become one of the loudest and most optimistic voices on Reverie Terminal. There's a lot Matt may not be able to reconcile with the image of the Punisher he knows from home.

"Asshole," he complains softly, petting Max's head as he watches the other man, annoyed that he has to care about someone else now. That he has to worry. Frank will wait for Matt to come around, if only so he can give him the space rundown. He's getting pretty good at the speech, too.

In his dreams he's Daredevil, back in the city that never sleeps. There's nothing quite like it, parkouring over rooftops, the weight of his familiar billy club in his hand as he swings around a billboard that can just support his weight, land on his feet on a street light, leap between freshly laundered sheets and rolling over roof access hatches. Nothing but the night breeze caressing his skin beneath his body armour and the taste of freedom from the confines of being blind, ambling through his crowded city, being tsked at and glared at, the inappropriate stares, tourists' selfie sticks being swung at his head.

He always knows what he's leaping for when he jumps off a building, and he never misses a step. So when he does, and he's falling, falling, falling and his city is rushing up to meet him, he wakes up startled and immediately regrets jolting upright, clutching onto his chest.

It's the second time he's woken up on the terminal, and he's still disoriented and confused. But it's the first time he's woken up with Frank Castle on his four o'clock.

Frank Castle.

The fight or fight harder instinct kicks in as he starts to register that he's not actually falling, and Matt curls a fist and throws a punch at Frank's face.

He really should have anticipated this, huh? The fist swings at his face and Max lets out a warning growl. Frank shushes the dog into submission at the same time he catches Matt's hand, seriously weary as he stands and shoves the man back into the bed. He wants to blame the disorientation the other man must be experiencing - a feeling he knows well after his own ordeal - but his hospitality is wearing thin. If he has to physically restrain Matt until he's well again then he will, but it would just be so much easier if he listened for once. Of course it was naive to think he even could.

"You were split open like a fish, moron. Sit the fuck down." Max is still snarling, but he seems conflicted like he doesn't want to bite Matt. Probably because he seems super fucked up. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Can they do this? Try for civility. He wants to fucking give it a go if only because it's the far less taxing version of events. Let the most tired dad rest, Matt. Do it for America.

Matthew? Listen? Good luck with that.

Matt grits his teeth and yanks his fist back, listening out for any warning signs. A dog, yes, but he doesn't seem like he's armed to the teeth the way Daredevil would have found him, swinging by a rooftop blocking his crosshairs off with a crotch shot before a boot comes flying at Frank's face.

He sits there sulking, seething, rubbing his knuckles as his eyes dart left and right. It doesn't take him long to remember. There's nothing quite like the sound of a skyscraper coming down on top of you. The feeling of her life slipping away a second time, because he's failed her again. All that dust in his lungs. The weight of the literal world on his battered body.

"Midland Circle." He purses his lips. "The Hand. Danny, Jessica. Luke." His tongue nervously flickers over his bottom lip. Every time he closes his eyes he can hear it. The sound of the collapse, like an oncoming freight train taking the love of his life away.

"Did they find her body?" His shoulders slump as he curls his fist into his jumpsuit. "Elektra." He can't even bury her because who knows if the Hand's gone for good or if they'll try something with her again.

There's a ka-bar strapped to his ankle, but it's nearer to a swiss army knife these days. He hasn't cut or maimed one person since he got here, see? This is reform. He's just glad Matt seems to be calming down, even if what he says doesn't make total sense at first. Midland Circle, he heard about it. He thinks. It's a vague memory, swimming to the fore along with all the feelings Matt's presence always dredges up. His last moments with his little girl, arguing about the merits of murdering bad guys 'just this once.' He swallows, tries to slow his heart back down because he knows Matt will hear it pick up. He isn't sure how successful he is in the end.

"I dont," he starts, but then Matt's filling in the blanks. Elektra. The very same woman he'd been clinging to last night. Something like guilt wracks him then, pushing a shudder down his spine though he isn't sure if the feeling is for Matt or Karen right now. Maybe it doesn't matter. "Elektra's fine, I just saw her a few hours ago." He's trying to assure without overwhelming, but this place isn't so great at that second one.

His hand reaches out, pressing solidly into Matt's shoulder again, trying to get him to lay back down though it's probably a lost cause.

"You don't wanna listen to me, but you have to. This place will eat you alive if you don't."

He's not sure how to read any of that. Their blood might be floating inside their bodies all wrong but a heartbeat's a heartbeat and he can tell something's not right. Didn't they find the body? Or has something worse happened?

All of that is forgotten when Frank says she's alive. Matt's eyes widen and he can't hear anything else.

"Where is she?" No, he didn't hear any of what Frank had said after that even though that information might be as important if not arguably more so than the fact that his undead ex-not-ex is back for the third time.

"Is she hurt? I need to- I need to find her."

"You need to stay here. I'll make sure she finds you." So that's how to get Matt to listen. That's a good one and he lets out a breath, honestly relieved. He knows he doesn't have to let Elektra know he's here, somehow she already knows. #justninjathings or whatever. "She's a little hurt. We had a fight." But it had been cathartic too, he knows, for both of them.

He sits back down and waits for Elektra to find them. Then that will be his cue to leave.

"We made up." He knows you were on the edge of your seat waiting for that one.

Matt grits his teeth and he looks like he might try decking Frank again even with the threat of Max by his side, in that awkward sort of 'how dare you hurt my girl' kind of protective way Matt gets even though she could hold her own just fine. At least if he's angry he's not going to turn on the waterworks and burst into tears.

"She'd kick your ass," he mumbles instead when Frank said that they made up, breathing out through his nose and swallowing the lump in his throat.

Their last conversation plays over and over in his head. The way they die. He doesn't know how either of them made it out of that one, but he's not going to question miracles as long as she's okay.

It gets a laugh, warm and round for a change in pace. Matt's anger is familiar and he welcomes it, as long as the guy does what he's told and lets this place heal him. He doesn't need that on his conscience too.

"She did." Kick his ass. Pretty thoroughly, even if he couldn't feel it at the time. He sure does now. "You'll get a front row seat to round two, how's that?"

Frank's also lucky that he showered and brought the dog with him, because Matthew might get the ugly kind of jealous if the marine smells like Elektra.

"Where are we Frank?" He's willing to behave like an adult and talk now. Funny how bringing the Greek goddess up in a conversation and unconsciously positioning yourself as the gatekeeper to seeing her again makes Matthew sit still like a good puppy and endure whatever lecture he's about to be given.

"what happened to my city?"

Frank's hopelessly bruised face screws up, but he's leaning forward now, trusting Matt not to swing at him again. If he's wrong, Max won't be so forgiving this time, so he feels relatively safe in the faith he's placed in the other man. Also he gets to give his space speech now, something he's been looking forward to if only because he gets better at it every time!!

"It's still there, as far as we know." And he won't accept an alternative, no matter how much Karen and others might like to speculate. He's getting back to New York where and when and how he left it and everyone is going to shut the goddamn Hell up about it. It's one thing they might actually come to agree on in time. "This place is called Reverie Terminal, it's a space station. No one here knows exactly where that is, but the last known date here was 2654."

Yeah, it all still sounds insane so all he can do is shrug his shoulders and let out a tiny sigh.

"We're gonna find a way back, okay? Karen's all over this place figuring out its secrets. She's gonna get everyone home."

Matt just sort of blank stares at Frank as he's talking. He tilts his head and then he leans in a little closer. It's almost comical, the way Matt sniffs a few inches away from Frank's face and then raises his cold hand, pressing the back of it against Frank's forehead.

He has no doubt in his mind that Frank is telling the truth, in so far as Frank believes this reality for himself.

"Are you under the influence of any mind-altering substances?"

Oh. My. God. What an infuriating man. He tolerates the closeness, wrinkling his nose at the sniff, and doesn't even react to Matt's hand on his face at first. He feels warm, like a furnace, like always. But no clamminess, no sign of fever. He's just the same old Frank Castle, unhinged but every bit as confident in his perception of reality as he was on that rooftop. After a moment, he can't take it anymore and he slaps the other man's hand away with an almost feral sound under his breath.

"You're a human lie detector. You know I'm tellin' the truth. And you're gonna need the space rundown if you're gonna last two seconds here." Frank doesn't wait for Matt to get with the program, he's listing safety protocols. "Keep your communicator on you at all times - already failed that one I'll find it for you. Keep your boots on at all times. You lean back or click your heels together in the case of no gravity. This already happened once and it will happen again, so don't be an asshole about it. You always walk with the spin of the rings, I bet you can feel them if you concentrate instead of accusing me of being on drugs. They keep us on the ground so we like it when they move, but if you go too far counterspinwise you're gonna regret it. And I'm not holding your hair back."

God, what else? There are so many moving parts, he's trying to remember them all and cram them into Matt's head while he's given the chance.

"Gym's on Deck 4, that's one up from here. You have to work out, every day, we lose muscle mass every day we're here if we don't. Mess Hall is Deck 2, I can show you how to work the replicators. The coffee's shit but the protein bars are okay. Everything else is at-your-own-risk though we've got a team of nerds on 'em now and they are getting better... Oh. Chapel. Deck 1. Karen and me found it, I'll, um. There's no priest or anything there but maybe you'll like it. When you're feeling up to it, I'll take you there."

Okay, so he lost the angry dad steam somewhere along the way, sue him!!!!!

Yeah Elektra has had to put up with a lot. Matt can tell that Frank isn't drunk, but he can't tell much else if he's swallowed something. 'You're in space, idiot' would explain the imbalance and a lot of the disorientation Matt's feeling, but the New Yorker who's never left New York finds that hard to believe. How did he even get to space? Who on Earth would send a blind man into space? He's not trained for this.

The information overload floats around like background noise, and Matt absorbs some of it the way he tends to absorb information quickly even though he's finding it difficult to focus. He doesn't like the communicator. It buzzes. He doesn't like the boots either. They're heavy. What rings? Frank would it kill you to slow down and talk to your lawyer like he's the dumb one in this professional lawyer-client relationship?

Matt tilts his head the other way and blinks at Frank but otherwise doesn't say anything to acknowledge that he heard any of that. He clenches his teeth and his brows furrow.

"...Karen? Karen Page?" Frank had mentioned her before but Matt's thought Frank's mind was still in lalaland. Elektra's alive and Karen's here? That's ~~great~~ going to be. Awkward.

He knows he went too fast, that he'll have to slow down and give the speech again when Matt is actually willing to listen. Max gives a soft doggy groan and flops over like he's had just about enough of this bullshit, thank you. Hard same, Max.

"Someone's catching up. Karen and me have been here 82 days now. Elektra came a few weeks after us. New people show up every day, no one knows how or why." Frank isn't really thinking of awkwardness or reunions now, just keeping Matt alive. Because if he really stops to think about it... he's basically dating the guy's ex, in space. And he slept (platonically! hello!) with his other ex last night. Yeah, it's a good thing he's socially the worst otherwise this would be real awkward already, thank goodness for small miracles. "Look. You're in 6.27. It's 8 doors to mine, I'm 6.19. You're not gonna want me helping you but it's too damn bad now."

82 days? Matt's been out of commission for almost 3 months? That can't be possible. It felt like just yesterday that he spoke to Karen at the precinct.

Oh God. That would have been the last time they'd have spoken if he had died. And Foggy. He was so proud of Foggy for making headway in Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz, fighting their good fight in that monstrosity of a law firm. He never told him he was sorry for lashing out at him at Josie's.

Matt looks distraught. He barely registers the numbers. 6.27. 6.19. Are they talking about the Bible? Whose chapter?

No, you moron. The room numbers. Important talk happening here. Matt licks his bottom lip and nods though his eyes seem more glazed over than usual when he turns his head towards Frank.

"...yeah."

Yeah, he's not processing any of this, is he? Frank lets out a little sigh in defeat, hanging his head for a few seconds before making a decision.

"When Elektra gets here, remind her to show you the space video. It'll tell you all the shit I just said that you already forgot. And you'll actually listen to her, so. I'll find you later and give you your device. Start brainstorming a username." It's all very mundane and probably stupid, and yet: important. Because he's not letting anything bad happen to Matt, no matter what's been between them in the past. Frank can pretend it's because of Karen and Elektra, but he'd do it anyway, for his own peace of mind. He gets up with a scrape of his chair and gives the man in the bed one last look just as he sees a familiar dark-haired beauty approach.

"See you around, Red."

This is where he makes his dramatic exit by poking his dog with his boot to get him off the floor and Elektra and Frank probably give each other a high five hand hug on the way past. He's tagging out, my dude, but much to Matt's chagrin he'll be back soon.

Edited 2018-07-18 09:51 (UTC)

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