[so, this was supposed to be the part where I fill the "feels a little guilt" part of the prompt. It... went sideways? I swear, I never planned anything like this...]
She hurried through the streets without looking around. The crowd of late night pedestrians is thin for New York, but - Matt told her - Daredevil doesn't come out until at least half of those people go home. Too much noise otherwise.
She closes the door behind her, and in the relative safety of her home - so goddamn relative it's laughable, she remembers Danny leaving bloodstains on her living room carpet, the assassin waiting for her to come back, the bullets flying between walls and worst of them all, Wilson Fisk sitting by her bed, not real but he could be, next time - but after checking every room and every closet (daily routine by now) and making sure that all the windows and doors are closed, she sits down in her relative safety and cries. As quietly as she can.
The Devil is listening.
It's too much to take in, too much to accept, too much to forgive. She doesn't understand.
She has loved the Devil since the first time he's so bizarrely saved her life, still nameless by then, faceless in so many ways, not even the "Man in the Mask". She has loved Matt, too: an entirely different love, full of friendship and affection and maybe something more.
She didn't want the two to come into one. Even in her most ridiculous fantasies, she didn't want Matt to be another Frank, man of violence and bullet holes. Man who didn't lie because he had nothing but the truth left to say.
She checked the rooms and closets again, made sure the locks were still solid on doors and windows, and went for the booze.
"Nothing like a little haze to make you feel better," Tommy used to say. Of course, he wasn't saying it about alcohol, but Karen wasn't quite ready to disappoint Foggy and Matt that way.
She swallowed the first glass in one go. 'It gets easier the more you do it,' rang in her ears. She felt her lips stretch into a bitter smile. It was definitely true with alcohol.
She didn't ask Matt if he had killed someone. She doesn't think he did, not with his stupid idealism, not with that lecture he gave her a lifetime ago. Not when it's MATT.
She swirled the content of her second glass, took a sip. She remembers his weak excuses when she asked him about the Devil, pathetic lies that he kept repeating, the front that he kept up with her - even after they became friends. Even after they became more than that. Should she be angry?
Maybe. Probably. She took another sip.
She doesn't feel like being angry. Lying to your friends is a shitty thing to do, some part of her brain whispers - she snorts into the drink. Well, screw you, Karen Page. Here's karma for you.
She finished the glass.
She wasn't angry with Matt, but she was starting to feel like maybe she was angry at God. It's one thing to go after Karen, make her see just how badly she's screwed up her second chance, make her pay for everything she's been running from.
It's another entirely to make her friends feel like they need to run around saving other people, forgetting about themselves - because that's what Matt did at the Castle trial, he FORGOT, Karen knows the signs and she was such an idiot, such a fucking imbecile not to realize--
She toasts Jesus with her third glass, who art in Heaven and all that, but we shouldn't all be saviors. That was supposed to be done only once, Jesus, you screwed up. We all screwed up, and Matt is going to die on a fucking skyscraper cross, and no sins will be absolved, because sins will live on and Matt is going to die.
Fourth glass, and maybe she was getting drunk now. She wonders if Matt'd be happy with her return to faith. Catholic, he said.
Well, Evangelic can be fun, too.
There's little left in the bottle, and she doesn't bother with the glass anymore. She won't be getting another one. She deliberately sat far away from the fridge, because two bottles of scotch can kill you, and she wasn't ready to disappoint Foggy and Matt that way.
Foggy, she thinks, taking a sip directly from the bottle. Foggy knew and lied about it to her, but that's not the important part. She wonders if Foggy has lies of his own.
No, she thinks.
She sees him through bleary eyes, face open and honest, smiles bright like they never are when you have ghost and monsters following your shadow, anger righteous and fresh that day he must have found out.
Foggy will be the one to see the fires.
When the monsters of her own making get to her, when Matt is done fighting battles not his own, Foggy will be the one surprised and caught in the middle, maybe killed by a bullet meant for one of them, maybe left standing alone among the bodies.
"People die, princess," Tommy told her, like it was a fact of life, and maybe it was. There was no use running from death and guns.
"It's just how this world was made."
She let the empty bottle fall to the floor. She was drunk now, no use to anyone and Wilson Fisk could just cover her mouth and be done with it. She doesn't want to go to sleep yet. She can see skyscrapers and fire lurking in her dreams.
She curls up on her couch and sends curses straight to Heaven.
Probably stil not a fill - part two
She hurried through the streets without looking around. The crowd of late night pedestrians is thin for New York, but - Matt told her - Daredevil doesn't come out until at least half of those people go home. Too much noise otherwise.
She closes the door behind her, and in the relative safety of her home - so goddamn relative it's laughable, she remembers Danny leaving bloodstains on her living room carpet, the assassin waiting for her to come back, the bullets flying between walls and worst of them all, Wilson Fisk sitting by her bed, not real but he could be, next time - but after checking every room and every closet (daily routine by now) and making sure that all the windows and doors are closed, she sits down in her relative safety and cries. As quietly as she can.
The Devil is listening.
It's too much to take in, too much to accept, too much to forgive. She doesn't understand.
She has loved the Devil since the first time he's so bizarrely saved her life, still nameless by then, faceless in so many ways, not even the "Man in the Mask". She has loved Matt, too: an entirely different love, full of friendship and affection and maybe something more.
She didn't want the two to come into one. Even in her most ridiculous fantasies, she didn't want Matt to be another Frank, man of violence and bullet holes. Man who didn't lie because he had nothing but the truth left to say.
She checked the rooms and closets again, made sure the locks were still solid on doors and windows, and went for the booze.
"Nothing like a little haze to make you feel better," Tommy used to say. Of course, he wasn't saying it about alcohol, but Karen wasn't quite ready to disappoint Foggy and Matt that way.
She swallowed the first glass in one go. 'It gets easier the more you do it,' rang in her ears. She felt her lips stretch into a bitter smile. It was definitely true with alcohol.
She didn't ask Matt if he had killed someone. She doesn't think he did, not with his stupid idealism, not with that lecture he gave her a lifetime ago. Not when it's MATT.
She swirled the content of her second glass, took a sip. She remembers his weak excuses when she asked him about the Devil, pathetic lies that he kept repeating, the front that he kept up with her - even after they became friends. Even after they became more than that. Should she be angry?
Maybe. Probably. She took another sip.
She doesn't feel like being angry. Lying to your friends is a shitty thing to do, some part of her brain whispers - she snorts into the drink. Well, screw you, Karen Page. Here's karma for you.
She finished the glass.
She wasn't angry with Matt, but she was starting to feel like maybe she was angry at God. It's one thing to go after Karen, make her see just how badly she's screwed up her second chance, make her pay for everything she's been running from.
It's another entirely to make her friends feel like they need to run around saving other people, forgetting about themselves - because that's what Matt did at the Castle trial, he FORGOT, Karen knows the signs and she was such an idiot, such a fucking imbecile not to realize--
She toasts Jesus with her third glass, who art in Heaven and all that, but we shouldn't all be saviors. That was supposed to be done only once, Jesus, you screwed up. We all screwed up, and Matt is going to die on a fucking skyscraper cross, and no sins will be absolved, because sins will live on and Matt is going to die.
Fourth glass, and maybe she was getting drunk now. She wonders if Matt'd be happy with her return to faith. Catholic, he said.
Well, Evangelic can be fun, too.
There's little left in the bottle, and she doesn't bother with the glass anymore. She won't be getting another one. She deliberately sat far away from the fridge, because two bottles of scotch can kill you, and she wasn't ready to disappoint Foggy and Matt that way.
Foggy, she thinks, taking a sip directly from the bottle. Foggy knew and lied about it to her, but that's not the important part. She wonders if Foggy has lies of his own.
No, she thinks.
She sees him through bleary eyes, face open and honest, smiles bright like they never are when you have ghost and monsters following your shadow, anger righteous and fresh that day he must have found out.
Foggy will be the one to see the fires.
When the monsters of her own making get to her, when Matt is done fighting battles not his own, Foggy will be the one surprised and caught in the middle, maybe killed by a bullet meant for one of them, maybe left standing alone among the bodies.
"People die, princess," Tommy told her, like it was a fact of life, and maybe it was. There was no use running from death and guns.
"It's just how this world was made."
She let the empty bottle fall to the floor. She was drunk now, no use to anyone and Wilson Fisk could just cover her mouth and be done with it. She doesn't want to go to sleep yet. She can see skyscrapers and fire lurking in her dreams.
She curls up on her couch and sends curses straight to Heaven.