The voice of Foggy Nelson rings outside the door, and Wesley closes his eyes, groaning internally. He is still stuck half way to the couch with an armful of unconscious vigilante.
“Come on, Matt.”
In his arms, Murdock begins to stir, and Wesley glances down in alarm, before glancing back at the door.
“I need to talk to you, Matt.”
Murdock twitches, and murmurs something incoherent. Wesley tightens his grip, gritting his teeth as he renews his efforts to move the man toward the couch. His movements are forced to be slow, to reduce the amount of sound they make.
“We need to keep going Matt.”
Outside, Nelson’s voice had taken on a hoarse, teary edge, and Wesley doesn’t let himself think about what may have driven Murdock’s best friend to be so drunk as to and turn up at Murdock’s apartment this late in the evening.
“We gotta nail that bastard to the wall.”
They’re almost at the couch, and if Wesley could just unload Murdock onto it…
“We gotta make him pay… for Elena… for everything.”
Wesley’s heart skips a beat, Nelson’s words stopping him in his tracks. He remembers making the necessary arrangements – the photo of the old lady he had prepared, along with the two thousand dollar offering of cash, the rotted teeth and stinking breath of the man who grinned as he took the money. The words of the newspaper that announced her death…
“Matt! Open the door!”
This is a bad idea, Wesley recognises as much, even if Murdock believes Wesley is who he says he is, it still doesn’t take away any of Wesley’s sins. He had arranged for the death of Elena Cardenas and countless others. Personally saw to the destruction of lives and livelihoods, what makes him think that he will be treated with anything but disgust and hatred?
The loud thumps sound again, and Murdock lurches from Wesley’s arms. Surprised, Wesley stumbles backwards and falls to the floor, losing his grip on Murdock who crumples to the ground without support.
Outside the door, there is silence.
There is no way Nelson wouldn’t have heard that. Wesley curses internally and stares as Murdock curls in on himself, moaning in pain.
“Matt?”
He turns to the door in an instant, desperately trying to think of a plan. There is no way he can open the door, one look at either him or Murdock and Nelson will undoubtedly flip.
“Are you okay in there? Matt?”
Which means he needs to make Nelson willingly go away. Murdock wouldn’t have taken it with him to the warehouse. Where is Murdock keeping his cell phone?
Nelson is now rattling the door handle, and Wesley wastes no time scrambling to his feet and scanning the room, it’s dark, but he can’t see anything remotely shaped like a phone.
“Matt!”
What he does see is the half open door to the roof, and his heart almost stops before he is dashing for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He makes it to the door just as the other door across the roof is twisting open, and Wesley yanks the door closed, holding it back at the last second so it clicks instead of slamming shut.
He twists the lock just as approaching footsteps sound from beyond the door, and Wesley backs away with a silent prayer that Nelson won’t notice the blood on the handle. He hops over the railing to speed his way downstairs. They are both fucked unless Wesley finds a way to get Nelson out of here.
As loud knocking commences, Wesley makes his way to the bedroom, heaving a sigh of relief when he sees the small black square of a cell phone resting on the bedside table. A second later Wesley has it in his hand, grinning in victory when he gets past the lock screen without trouble. He finds Nelson’s contact details and shoots off a text message.
Foggy where are you?
The loud banging stops abruptly, and Wesley holds his breath as he waits for the response. With slow, silent steps, he makes his way back to the living room, looking up at the roof access door, then back to the phone in his hand as it vibrates with a new message.
Matt?? In at ur laece I thnk someome broke in.
Wesley lets out a soft breath, and glances over to Murdock, who is curled on the floor and seems to have passed out again.
Did someone break the locks? I’ll be right back
This time, the reply comes much faster.
No I heard a crsssj
What?
was a crash
Wesley leans against the wall, and slides down to the floor, exhausted. What would explain the sound Nelson heard?
Oh that’s probably the fridge
Fridge?
Yeah it makes this big thunk sound when the cooling cycle stops. I think I need to get it fixed.
I though theres someome insifw
The doors are still locked, right?
Yeah
Then it’s probably the fridge. Look, why don’t you go home, Foggy? We’ll talk tomorrow?
Wher r u Matt
I’m still at a bar, was going to ask you for drinks but I think I’ll go home soon
Oho k, see you tomrw
With a sigh of relief, Wesley lets his hand fall into his lap, the phone in his hand finally silent.
Across the room, Murdock hasn’t so much as stirred, and Wesley climbs back to his feet, tucking the phone into his pocket as he moves. He walks around the furniture, and crouches down next to Murdock, pressing a hand to his throat.
Murdock’s pulse is weak, but it’s still there. Relieved, Wesley reaches to lift the man, and drags him for the final stretch onto the couch. Then, he goes to fetch the medical bag, reaching for the light switch as he passes.
Click. Nothing happens.
Disbelieving, Wesley looks up at the light and tries a few more times.
Of course, a blind man wouldn’t have any use for light. The bulb is either non-existent or busted.
Wesley sighs, and returns to the couch, staring down at the unconscious vigilante for a long moment before he goes to pull off the black hood.
Matthew Murdock’s head lolls limply on the armrest, his face exactly as Wesley remembers, only with more grime and bloody cuts.
“You’d better be grateful about this tomorrow morning.”
[FILL] He Who Fights Monsters 1c/? (Re: Matt/Wesley - Good!Wesley, Undercover)
The voice of Foggy Nelson rings outside the door, and Wesley closes his eyes, groaning internally. He is still stuck half way to the couch with an armful of unconscious vigilante.
“Come on, Matt.”
In his arms, Murdock begins to stir, and Wesley glances down in alarm, before glancing back at the door.
“I need to talk to you, Matt.”
Murdock twitches, and murmurs something incoherent. Wesley tightens his grip, gritting his teeth as he renews his efforts to move the man toward the couch. His movements are forced to be slow, to reduce the amount of sound they make.
“We need to keep going Matt.”
Outside, Nelson’s voice had taken on a hoarse, teary edge, and Wesley doesn’t let himself think about what may have driven Murdock’s best friend to be so drunk as to and turn up at Murdock’s apartment this late in the evening.
“We gotta nail that bastard to the wall.”
They’re almost at the couch, and if Wesley could just unload Murdock onto it…
“We gotta make him pay… for Elena… for everything.”
Wesley’s heart skips a beat, Nelson’s words stopping him in his tracks. He remembers making the necessary arrangements – the photo of the old lady he had prepared, along with the two thousand dollar offering of cash, the rotted teeth and stinking breath of the man who grinned as he took the money. The words of the newspaper that announced her death…
“Matt! Open the door!”
This is a bad idea, Wesley recognises as much, even if Murdock believes Wesley is who he says he is, it still doesn’t take away any of Wesley’s sins. He had arranged for the death of Elena Cardenas and countless others. Personally saw to the destruction of lives and livelihoods, what makes him think that he will be treated with anything but disgust and hatred?
The loud thumps sound again, and Murdock lurches from Wesley’s arms. Surprised, Wesley stumbles backwards and falls to the floor, losing his grip on Murdock who crumples to the ground without support.
Outside the door, there is silence.
There is no way Nelson wouldn’t have heard that. Wesley curses internally and stares as Murdock curls in on himself, moaning in pain.
“Matt?”
He turns to the door in an instant, desperately trying to think of a plan. There is no way he can open the door, one look at either him or Murdock and Nelson will undoubtedly flip.
“Are you okay in there? Matt?”
Which means he needs to make Nelson willingly go away. Murdock wouldn’t have taken it with him to the warehouse. Where is Murdock keeping his cell phone?
Nelson is now rattling the door handle, and Wesley wastes no time scrambling to his feet and scanning the room, it’s dark, but he can’t see anything remotely shaped like a phone.
“Matt!”
What he does see is the half open door to the roof, and his heart almost stops before he is dashing for the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He makes it to the door just as the other door across the roof is twisting open, and Wesley yanks the door closed, holding it back at the last second so it clicks instead of slamming shut.
He twists the lock just as approaching footsteps sound from beyond the door, and Wesley backs away with a silent prayer that Nelson won’t notice the blood on the handle. He hops over the railing to speed his way downstairs. They are both fucked unless Wesley finds a way to get Nelson out of here.
As loud knocking commences, Wesley makes his way to the bedroom, heaving a sigh of relief when he sees the small black square of a cell phone resting on the bedside table. A second later Wesley has it in his hand, grinning in victory when he gets past the lock screen without trouble. He finds Nelson’s contact details and shoots off a text message.
Foggy where are you?
The loud banging stops abruptly, and Wesley holds his breath as he waits for the response. With slow, silent steps, he makes his way back to the living room, looking up at the roof access door, then back to the phone in his hand as it vibrates with a new message.
Matt?? In at ur laece I thnk someome broke in.
Wesley lets out a soft breath, and glances over to Murdock, who is curled on the floor and seems to have passed out again.
Did someone break the locks? I’ll be right back
This time, the reply comes much faster.
No I heard a crsssj
What?
was a crash
Wesley leans against the wall, and slides down to the floor, exhausted. What would explain the sound Nelson heard?
Oh that’s probably the fridge
Fridge?
Yeah it makes this big thunk sound when the cooling cycle stops. I think I need to get it fixed.
I though theres someome insifw
The doors are still locked, right?
Yeah
Then it’s probably the fridge. Look, why don’t you go home, Foggy? We’ll talk tomorrow?
Wher r u Matt
I’m still at a bar, was going to ask you for drinks but I think I’ll go home soon
Oho k, see you tomrw
With a sigh of relief, Wesley lets his hand fall into his lap, the phone in his hand finally silent.
Across the room, Murdock hasn’t so much as stirred, and Wesley climbs back to his feet, tucking the phone into his pocket as he moves. He walks around the furniture, and crouches down next to Murdock, pressing a hand to his throat.
Murdock’s pulse is weak, but it’s still there. Relieved, Wesley reaches to lift the man, and drags him for the final stretch onto the couch. Then, he goes to fetch the medical bag, reaching for the light switch as he passes.
Click. Nothing happens.
Disbelieving, Wesley looks up at the light and tries a few more times.
Of course, a blind man wouldn’t have any use for light. The bulb is either non-existent or busted.
Wesley sighs, and returns to the couch, staring down at the unconscious vigilante for a long moment before he goes to pull off the black hood.
Matthew Murdock’s head lolls limply on the armrest, his face exactly as Wesley remembers, only with more grime and bloody cuts.
“You’d better be grateful about this tomorrow morning.”