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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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For some time Elektra says nothing. Matthew is describing a hideous nightmare to her. Only in her wildest dreams would such a thing happen. It takes every bit of self-restraint and the calming warmth from his body to keep from screaming at the horror of it.

Eventually she does speak if only to make sure he knows where she stands on all this. "It won't end that way, Matthew. Stick is...ruthless, vicious, but he does care for us in his own way. I know he does. The thought of being the one to end his life is... well, you know now how I feel about that." It disgusts her as much as serving her enemy to begin with. This whole thing is a nightmare she can't wake up from now. The only thing stabilizing her is him. "Did he ever tell you what he did for me?"

He didn't know it at the time, that's for sure. So much was happening. He was trying to grapple with too many things at the same time. He'd like to think that she wouldn't, if she'd been in the right frame of mind, but he was never really sure up until now. And nobody was in the right frame of mind as soon as they locked themselves in that Chinese restaurant.

"I don't think so," he says quietly. Maybe he has, but he'd rather talk about something nice about Stick with Elektra than grieve over him.

There weren't that many nice stories involving Stick, to be fair.

She wets her lips with her tongue. This isn't the easiest story to tell. She realizes he doesn't really know much about her origins. This will be his first exposure to it to her knowledge. "I was the youngest member of the Chaste. I never knew any other life. My first memories are of Stick training me so that I could fight the other members and win. The Chaste never cared about my age. I'd fight every man there without being given any quarter for my age because the Hand never played fair. I had to know how to survive those encounters. It pleased him that I never complained." Elektra smiles at that. She was always so proud how he used her as an example to the others who never warmed to her.

"One day I bested a young man who followed one of Stick's allies. I was so young and sheltered that I didn't realize that even no restraint had its limits. I almost beat him to death before Stick stopped me and congratulated me for winning in the same breath. He corrected me properly later, of course. So when the man came to me in private, I apologized for my mistake earlier that day. I meant it too. He responded by trying to slit my throat and... I told you what I did in response to that. He was the first man I killed." She grimaces. She hates to bring that up now, but it's important for him to understand their relationship. This is the only way for him to see how much Stick means to her. "His master put me in a cage. Stick tried to defend me with his words, but his master wouldn't relent. I was to be put down. To him, I was a thing to be discarded violently." She swallows the bitter taste in her mouth at that word. "So Stick cut him down and freed me. He gave me to the Natchios so I'd always be safe and cared for. He did the best he could. I know he hurt you, he's hurt me, but he's still the man who cared for a little girl and tried to give her a better life. I will always love him for that."

So that's how she ended up a rich man's daughter. Bored and biding her time. Matt will never not be angry at Stick for recruiting child soldiers for his fight, weaponising children against his enemy. Kids who didn't have parents, who were eager to please, craving the approval and the love they never got to have. But for all the tough love he dished out, he wasn't as terrible of a man as he purported or pretended to be.

Maybe Stick never told her that she was the Hand's prized treasure. Maybe 'you killed Stick' is oversimplifying things too much. Matt doesn't know. The old man is dead now, as far as Matt is concerned, and along with him any secrets he might have kept differentially from them.

"I told him you liked orchids," Matt says after a moments' silence. He said a lot of things about Elektra after the Hand brought her back, but. Those aren't the things Matt would want Elektra to remember him for.

It's for the best. She never sees Stick's betrayal coming. While he doesn't deserve it, Elektra deserves the narrative that both of her adopted fathers were flawed men who cared for her as best they could. What he did to her was truly awful even if it was only continuing the Hand's work.

The mention of orchids wins an easier smile. "Funny you should mention that. I made that my username so you'd know I was here if I didn't find you first." A confession that might have been pathetic if he were still mad at her. Now it's a cute story. "Who else would love orchids that much?"

"That's not how I would have wanted to find out that you were alive," Matt says softly with a smile. To be fair it wasn't the best finding out from Frank either, but it was better than trying to figure out usernames swiping around some online dating thing or whatever it is the communicator is for.

"I'm glad you found me first." And he really shouldn't be kissing up along her jawbone in the med bay, sliding his hand down to her lower back, but conveniently Matthew doesn't care right now.

He is so bad. She thinks she's worse because she isn't even concerned with stopping him. Elektra tilts up her head to give him better access. Whoever runs this place is going to hate them. "In my defense, I'm very much alive to my knowledge. What do you think?" She winces once he gets to the bruise Frank left on her chin. She's still mad he got that hit in. She loves having a pretty face to use as needed. It can't be helped. He didn't know how hard he was hitting her at the time. Unfortunately that was definitely the kind of hit he'd land on an enemy. It is why even someone as pain tolerant as her can wince at it being touched.

"Did I mention I got into a little bit of a scuffle with our dear friend Francis yet?"

His hands move to slip under her top, callouses tickling her lower back as he closes his eyes and breathes her in. With how sterile this place is, without all that grime, street food, construction, old cigarettes and other smells they pick up moving through New York City, her scent comes across stronger, makes his stomach flutter.

He pauses when he gets to her chin and pulls back a little. The way his brows furrow and how he sighs through his nose is more than enough indication that he didn't like that Frank had clipped her.

"I told him you'd kick his ass. He didn't deny it. I didn't think he'd actually hit you though." Chivalry is dead in space. "Where else did he hurt you?" Matt's just chomping at the bit to let the Devil loose on Frank.

She allows him to explore to his heart's content even if it's a bit of a tease. Even Elektra knows better than to get him excited here. Having Matthew bleed on her will be sexy for about five whole seconds before he passes out cold beneath her.

She laughs softly. Matthew certainly wasn't wrong to assume that. "And I did. He looks worse than usual if you can believe that." Is she referring to his constantly bruised face or just his face in general? It's both obviously. "I'm not answering that if you're going to be so dramatic about it. You make it sound like he beat me. I was the clear victor." Really that's all that matters. Also don't press too hard on her abdomen. For reasons.

He's in no shape to do anything other than feel her out, and he knows it. He's not going to try and undo any buttons, zips or clasps. He just wants to hold her, feel her skin, make sure that she's real and that she's not going to die on him again. And then he will give in to his body giving out on him and demanding time to recover by shutting everything else down.

"I don't like that he hit you, that's all." So, Matthew's a little overprotective. And you can drop him and Frank into space and they'll still be tempted to have a go at each other. That's not exactly news.

She is waiting for that. Elektra, surprisingly practical when it comes to the important things, already is planning on getting him another jumpsuit and to get him cleaned up as best she can. There's food and water to fetch too, but by then Francis will sure come crawling back to care for him. He's very predictable when it counts too.

"We were fighting, Matthew. It'd be strange if he didn't put up some sort of defense." She reaches out to trace his jawline with her fingers, pinching the end of his chin affectionately once she reaches it. "If you must defend my honor, I will allow once you've recovered." She pauses dramatically. "... And if you don't wear a shirt while you do it. For safety reasons." It's not like she ever objectifies him.

"For s-... Elektra." He laughs. He knows how her eyes devoured his body when she made him get changed in her car. Giving her a light, playful shove, he settles back into the bed and just closes his eyes with a stupid grin on his face. He's probably blushing too. "I'm scandalised."

Elektra smiles mischievously in response. She outright laughs when he shoves her. That's more like it. "What? I hope you're not taking that the wrong way. I'm only looking out for your best interests." The fact she can't get through that statement without giggling makes it even more trustworthy.

“Wouldn’t you want me in armour then in case he lands a lucky hit?” Because obviously Frank can only rely on his luck when it comes to tagging either of them. “You just want to see me sweaty and shirtless and think dirty thoughts.” Not that he genuinely thinks that’s all she wants, but that’s what he’s comfortable accusing her with for now.

"You think I'm that shallow?" Elektra teases as she curls up closer to him. It's not everything, but that is a good portion of her motivation. She can be honest with herself about that. "No, it'll be a learning experience for you. You'll have to play things smart since you can't rely on your armor to protect you."

Yeah, except she probably knows how he's gone about business with no armour back when he was just gallivanting around in the middle of the night with a pantyhose on his head. He just charges in blindly and gets cut up, shot at, elbowed, punched, kicked, crowbared and whatever else she can think of. Taking on Frank Castle with no shirt on is probably not going to be as pretty as she's picturing it in her head.

He wraps his arm around her, holding her closer still, resting his head against hers. He won't be letting go for a while. Not until he's assured himself a thousand times that she's alive and here with him. And even then he'll still want to latch onto her.

"I just need a few hours and then I'll be okay," he murmurs against her skin. It doesn't sound convincing, but he's trying.

She does know all of these things. Right now Elektra would say about anything to lighten the mood. She doesn't want to think about how she's been nursing a broken heart while he coped with her death. She doesn't want to ask what became of them when they were reunited, but one of them was an undead monster. What Elektra wants is to let him recover in peace and avoid reflecting on her part in all this. It can't be too much to ask, can it?

"Even I'm not that talented." She reminds him softly as her hand settles in against his side. "I'm alive, you know. You don't have to be afraid to rest. I'm not going anywhere." Until his babysitter comes back or Karen needs a moment with him or she needs to get him things. Right now she needs to reassure him. It's an innocent lie. She won't be that far away.

"I should have never let you go," he whispers, the lump in his throat threatening to suffocate him as his nose flares and his eyebrows rise and strain to keep the tears at bay. "We lost so much time."

His voice cracks under the strain and he closes his eyes, letting the tears fall. He never quite got over her death in any healthy or meaningful way the first time around, that much is fairly apparent right now.

He hides half his face in the makeshift pillow and reluctantly loosens his grip on her.

Elektra sucks a deep breath in. He wounds her as always when he doesn't intend to. She can't leave him to his suffering. She reaches up with both hands to wipe his tears and hold his face in her hands despite his efforts to hide it. "No, you shouldn't have." She can say that after being driven out during their last meeting without regret. For better or worse, Elektra does blame him for judging her ruthlessness. It's not enough to keep her away forever though.

Her voice softens as she continues, "But, that doesn't mean I'll shut you out. Whatever happens in the future between us or in the past is irrelevant now if you wish it to be. You said we should start over. I think we should try for both our sakes. I'm tired of going around in circles with you, Matthew. Let's just live for once in our lives without everyone else getting in the way." Really just people like Stick.

"Okay." It seems like all they ever do is argue sometimes. He's going to try and make it better this time around. Be a better man. He's just going to accept that it wasn't right to have not chased after her the first time she walked out on him in that mansion, leaving him to deal with the cops on his own, or when he told her to leave after she killed that boy.

They were going to start over anyway, even if she didn't remember that conversation they had before she died. London or Madrid or... somewhere sexy. It brings a sad smile to his lips.

"...I guess space is a little sexy," he murmurs with his eyes still closed as he starts to slip away. She probably has no idea what he's talking about, which is just fine by him.

She has no idea what he's talking about. The quip does make her smile. One hand goes to toy with his hair like he's a puppy. Really is it that far off? She only pauses to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He needs to sleep so she's trying not to be a distraction.

"We'll make it sexy," she promises. Elektra can't keep the amusement out of her voice. "First, you need to get better." It's a reminder to them both in all honesty.

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Is orchids the new olive oil?

:') haha you totally caught me. it is!!! sorry, frank miller.

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