Wesley doesn’t know if it’s just his exhaustion getting to him, but something about Leland’s reactions are off. There’s microsecond of disappointment on his face when he learns that Vanessa is still alive, which makes Wesley reassess the level of distaste Leland has for the woman. And… something the man’s voice tells Wesley there’s more to the story between Leland and Gao. Leland’s attitude, though as insufferable and entitled as always, also feels more belligerent than usual.
Sending Leland home makes Wesley ache for his own apartment. His one stolen nap in the late afternoon has, against logic, somehow only made him more tired. Wesley thinks about his bed, regrets it immediately, then finds a wall to lean on before he makes his next call.
“Hello, Marlene?” he says, forcing cheer into his voice, “It’s Wesley.”
He pushes aside the fog in his head, sagging a little as the conversation continues and they go through the formalities. When Marlene asks about her guests, it takes Wesley a long time to process the meaning.
“Wait, I’m sorry, who came to visit you?”
-
Punching things, Matt has come to find, is an effective form of stress relief, even if it leaves you injured and hurting all over with new injuries on top of old. The violence is an outlet for whatever negative emotions he finds festering inside of him. Anger, frustration, fear, those feelings he can channel into power, fuelling his strength and his determination where willpower falters.
He’s leaping from one rooftop to the next, already halfway home from Potter’s workshop when his phone starts to buzz. When he lands, takes a second to calm his breathing before he answers, thinking it must be Foggy.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Murdock.” James Wesley’s smooth voice sounds over the speaker, and Matt immediately has the urge to punch something.
“What do you want?”
“Are you… are you out on the streets again?” Wesley says instead of answering. He sounds almost outraged.
Matt looks around the dark and empty rooftop, the sounds of wind and city traffic suddenly loud to his ears.
“Well that saves me one question,” Wesley continues.
“That’s none of your business right now,” Matt returns, “I haven’t decided about your offer.”
“I’m usually a lot more patient, Mr. Murdock,” Wesley replies without missing a beat. “That’s not why I’m calling.”
Wesley pauses, and Matt resists the urge to just hang up. Every part of his body is throbbing from the fight earlier, and he does not have the time or the patience to play one of Wesley’s games.
“How much do you know about your friends’ activities?”
Those words grab Matt’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Wesley says, “I just received a phone call describing to me the activities of three very particular individuals. A pretty blonde lady with beautiful blue eyes, a nice blond man with long hair, a bit chubby, and an African American gentleman who seemed ‘very kind and a little bit sad’.”
Wesley’s words are like a hand closing around his throat, and it’s harder and harder to breathe. Why didn’t Foggy tell him? He should have asked, he shouldn’t have just assumed they’d sit back after Elena, not when Foggy had turned up at his door like that.
“What did they do?” Matt forces each word, fury simmering beneath his calm.
Wesley is silent for a moment, and Matt knows he is savouring this moment.
“They found Wilson Fisk’s mother, and paid her a visit.”
“If you touch them-“
“Really? Mr. Murdock? Threats?”
Matt bites his tongue, struggling to regain control of his anger. Wesley is the one in control right now, and he cannot afford to rile him.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I thought you might want to save them,” Wesley says as if it’s obvious.
“And you’d just let me do that?”
“Did I dream up our conversation yesterday morning? Or have you forgotten everything we’ve discussed?”
“Right,” Matt almost scoffs, “You’re the good guy.”
He still has trouble believing any of it.
“I know I might not act like it, Mr. Murdock, but SHIELD picked people like me for a reason.”
The mention of SHIELD has Matt recoiling, and there’s a dissonance in the idea of Wesley being SHIELD that he still can’t reconcile. He’d checked the deep web and the leak sites containing leaked SHIELD files for any mention of a James Wesley, but there hadn’t been a single match. The complete lack of information was not surprising, but it did nothing to assuage Matt’s doubts.
“If you want to help Ms. Page,” Wesley continues without waiting for Matt’s response.
“Come to the warehouse at the end of Pitt Street.”
“You know I haven’t said yes to your offer.”
What could SHIELD have wanted with Wilson Fisk that they’d push him into power? Matt would rather believe that it’s HYDRA who was pulling Wesley’s strings.
“Call it a gesture of goodwill,” Wesley says, “I’d hurry if I were you.”
[FILL] He Who Fights Monsters 3c/? (Re: Matt/Wesley - Good!Wesley, Undercover)
Sending Leland home makes Wesley ache for his own apartment. His one stolen nap in the late afternoon has, against logic, somehow only made him more tired. Wesley thinks about his bed, regrets it immediately, then finds a wall to lean on before he makes his next call.
“Hello, Marlene?” he says, forcing cheer into his voice, “It’s Wesley.”
He pushes aside the fog in his head, sagging a little as the conversation continues and they go through the formalities. When Marlene asks about her guests, it takes Wesley a long time to process the meaning.
“Wait, I’m sorry, who came to visit you?”
-
Punching things, Matt has come to find, is an effective form of stress relief, even if it leaves you injured and hurting all over with new injuries on top of old. The violence is an outlet for whatever negative emotions he finds festering inside of him. Anger, frustration, fear, those feelings he can channel into power, fuelling his strength and his determination where willpower falters.
He’s leaping from one rooftop to the next, already halfway home from Potter’s workshop when his phone starts to buzz. When he lands, takes a second to calm his breathing before he answers, thinking it must be Foggy.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Murdock.” James Wesley’s smooth voice sounds over the speaker, and Matt immediately has the urge to punch something.
“What do you want?”
“Are you… are you out on the streets again?” Wesley says instead of answering. He sounds almost outraged.
Matt looks around the dark and empty rooftop, the sounds of wind and city traffic suddenly loud to his ears.
“Well that saves me one question,” Wesley continues.
“That’s none of your business right now,” Matt returns, “I haven’t decided about your offer.”
“I’m usually a lot more patient, Mr. Murdock,” Wesley replies without missing a beat. “That’s not why I’m calling.”
Wesley pauses, and Matt resists the urge to just hang up. Every part of his body is throbbing from the fight earlier, and he does not have the time or the patience to play one of Wesley’s games.
“How much do you know about your friends’ activities?”
Those words grab Matt’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Wesley says, “I just received a phone call describing to me the activities of three very particular individuals. A pretty blonde lady with beautiful blue eyes, a nice blond man with long hair, a bit chubby, and an African American gentleman who seemed ‘very kind and a little bit sad’.”
Wesley’s words are like a hand closing around his throat, and it’s harder and harder to breathe. Why didn’t Foggy tell him? He should have asked, he shouldn’t have just assumed they’d sit back after Elena, not when Foggy had turned up at his door like that.
“What did they do?” Matt forces each word, fury simmering beneath his calm.
Wesley is silent for a moment, and Matt knows he is savouring this moment.
“They found Wilson Fisk’s mother, and paid her a visit.”
“If you touch them-“
“Really? Mr. Murdock? Threats?”
Matt bites his tongue, struggling to regain control of his anger. Wesley is the one in control right now, and he cannot afford to rile him.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I thought you might want to save them,” Wesley says as if it’s obvious.
“And you’d just let me do that?”
“Did I dream up our conversation yesterday morning? Or have you forgotten everything we’ve discussed?”
“Right,” Matt almost scoffs, “You’re the good guy.”
He still has trouble believing any of it.
“I know I might not act like it, Mr. Murdock, but SHIELD picked people like me for a reason.”
The mention of SHIELD has Matt recoiling, and there’s a dissonance in the idea of Wesley being SHIELD that he still can’t reconcile. He’d checked the deep web and the leak sites containing leaked SHIELD files for any mention of a James Wesley, but there hadn’t been a single match. The complete lack of information was not surprising, but it did nothing to assuage Matt’s doubts.
“If you want to help Ms. Page,” Wesley continues without waiting for Matt’s response.
“Come to the warehouse at the end of Pitt Street.”
“You know I haven’t said yes to your offer.”
What could SHIELD have wanted with Wilson Fisk that they’d push him into power? Matt would rather believe that it’s HYDRA who was pulling Wesley’s strings.
“Call it a gesture of goodwill,” Wesley says, “I’d hurry if I were you.”