daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Ah, forgot to mention in the author's note at the top that this story is brought to you by dialogue, my one true weakness. Someday, people might do things in this story. Maybe.

X The Past X

He wasn't supposed to be hearing this conversation. But there were a lot of conversations Matt wasn't meant to hear, didn't mean he didn't. He'd been walking down the highway, no more than two hours into his grand escape, when he'd been stopped by a short guy on a motorcycle. Who knew his name. Who knew about his powers. Who'd met his summer plans to "Get out of people's way, maybe see the city" with a pair of earplugs and an offer of a ride. And so he'd ended up here, sitting by the motorcycle in the driveway of some fancy estate, upstate, listening to Logan argue with who he assumed was the man who ran this school. Place Logan claimed was a school.

So he wasn't supposed to be listening, but listening seemed the best way to figure out what the hell was going on. And he needed something to center him after the wind tunnel of motorcycling for hours.

"Chuck, I get that my methods are unconventional. But I found him and I think we have a lot to offer this kid."

"If we must go by first names, Logan, I would prefer Charles. As I've told you many times. And I must disagree. I checked with Cerebro and Rachel and Mr. Murdock is doing fine. His powers are invisible, he has them under control, he doesn't need our help. Accommodating his disability and the coursework he'll need to get into college will take time and resources away from potential students that actually do need us."

"The hell, Chuck? We have the rooms. He's already here. Have Kitty or Doug hack the records so it was a legal transfer, send Rachel into the city and smooth things over with the nuns, pick up the paperwork. Send him down to the local high school if we don't have the teaching resources. Do not tell this kid that just because he can pass for normal he doesn't matter."

"I'm not saying it can't be done, I'm saying I don't see the benefit. He can pass, Logan. He can have a normal life. What would most of our students give to have that? How will they react having him around, reminding them of everything they can't have?"

Matt bit his lip and crouched down, leaning back against the tires. He didn't really understand what they were talking about, except that he wasn't a kid, he was fifteen. And that there were other people like him here. He'd wanted nothing more than to be normal, after the accident. He'd wanted nothing more than to be gifted, when Stick was around. But he was so, so tired of hiding. He could hear the wind catching what sounded like a million blades of grass in a field behind the estate, scraping and humming in a symphony that he'd never heard before. He wanted to run through that grass, where no one could ask questions about how a blind person could run. He wanted to walk into this house and pour himself a glass of water, where the glasses sat singing on their shelf from a door that had slammed earlier. That's why he'd made a break for it this summer, even knowing what Sister Catherine was going to do when some good samaritan inevitably dragged him back. He'd wanted to be somewhere where nobody knew his name, knew what he shouldn't be able to do.

"If you're so certain the kid's well adjusted, why don't you go and take a look see in his head? That's what you do when you can't figure it out like the rest of us, right?" Matt lost the thread of the conversation and he jolted back as Logan stood up and gestured wildly in his direction. "Because let me tell you this. Just because you can't quantify what he's going through or relate to it doesn't mean it's easy. Let's do it this way. What are his powers?"

"Enhanced senses, according to Cerebro. But he has them in hand, Logan."

"Right, right. Now, what can I do?"

"Fast healing, some resistance to environmental toxins, improved stamina, and yes, enhanced senses."

"Is there anyone else we know of who has some frame of reference to help this kid find not just what he can do practically, not just how to tamp down and control that deluge of information, but how to thrive with it? Is there anybody else who knows what he's going through?"

"Fine. I can see you've gotten emotionally invested. We can bring in another of your strays. But I want you back on the road tonight looking for Sooraya like you were supposed to."

"Tomorrow morning. I've got to get this punk settled in. And, given that he's heard this whole conversation, he might not be in a hurry to hang out with you, Charles. Didn't think of that, did ya. Come on over, Murdock, we've got paperwork to do."

Matt got to his feet, feeling like any gust of wind could knock him back over. He was going to miss this dream, once he woke up. It was unbelievable.

this is really interesting, and i look forward to wherever you're going with it! :)

hee! this is neat. yay for matt having help and support and a place to come back to. also, BOO on the professor -- i can see the point about using their resources to help mutants but framing it as being unnecessary because he can pass? erf.

Yay, somebody likes this. And yeah, I made the professor pretty uncharitably cruel there. In his defense, he would have come around eventually (he's mostly annoyed at Logan for bringing back the wrong student) and he doesn't know Matt's listening. Also, I needed the insecurities borne out of that conversation to last a lifetime on Matt's part.

X Present X

There was a knock on the door that pulled time back into focus. He was under the covers, silk buffering from the heavy pair of wool blankets. They pushed down, all around him, helping to keep him in the moment. He'd found a pair of pajamas and socks waiting for him when he got out of the shower and they were cozy, familiar. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten clothes when he'd gotten into the shower. It was warm under the covers and that made it hard to think, unless that was the sleep debt finally catching up to him. It'd been a long time.

They knocked again and Matt jolted back to the present. Heartbeat centered lower, metallic edge to the knock, cedar and grease scent unmistakable. "It's not locked, Logan," he said. His voice came out whispish, but that wouldn't be a problem.

Logan came in and dragged a chair to the bedside, boots heavy, jeans catching on the keys in his left pocket. He was wearing a flannel shirt and carrying a pair of coffee cups, one in each hand. Matt wondered for a moment how he'd shuffled them to get the door open. "Brought you a present," Logan set one of the cups down on the bedside table.

"Thanks," Matt replied.

"Wanna talk?" He asked.

Matt shrugged. He hadn't felt like doing much lately.

"That's alright, I'm in a talkative mood. I'll get you caught up on all the news. Lets see. You were here for the funeral, but you missed the wedding - Raven and Irene finally tied the knot. Irene's moved into an assisted living facility, her osteoporosis is getting to her and Raven worried. But Anna Marie was the proudest of her mamas. That was six, seven years ago now? We've gotten some new students, I really think you and Idie would get along, she reminds me of you sometimes. And I want you to talk to Ruth, Ruth Aldine, before you leave. She has Irene, of course, but she really could use some role models who are blind and closer to her own age. I tried to get her involved in a group at Westchester, but she's real shy and she struggles with words and it just didn't work out.

"Kurt changed his mind about seminary school, though I imagine he'll want to talk to you about that himself. Me and 'roro, we're keeping on. She's getting older but she's still smart as a tack and damn if she isn't more beautiful every time I see her. The longer we stay together, the more I think I might have finally found someone who'll stay...anyway, we've been good. Running the school is a hassle. We brought Moira over from Scotland to help with designing the curriculum and we brought on a full time therapist because we're professionals like that. Made some changes to the curriculum, though most of the older kids end up taking AP classes down at the local high school if they can. The college bound kids really care about that. I'm teaching history this semester, same as ever. Just wrapped up a three month seminar into indigenous peoples of the Americas and total war. Pretty fucking depressing, and I had to do a lot of outside research. But we brought in Dani's parents to give a lecture and took a field trip to Canada to talk about policy and religion with a doctor I knew through James and Heather. I feel like the kids got a lot out of it."

Logan set the empty coffee cup down on the floor beside his feet. "You've gotten thinner, kid. Food not agreeing with you any more? Or just too tired to eat?"

Matt didn't say anything, but Logan didn't seem to mind.

"Well, I'll go down to the kitchen and get something you'll like. I'll be back in a bit, okay? I've got a book I'm working on, researching new curriculum techniques for the little guys. Artie's finally hit his sixth birthday and it's great how he brings the younger kids together, but we've never had a student so young we needed to do times tables before. Always something new to learn about."

Logan eventually came back with a bowl of basmati rice and 'just a taste' of palak paneer, which Matt couldn't just let sit there and get cold as it filled the room with the delicate fragrance of tumeric and cardamom under the heavy layers of ginger and cashew cream. Logan read his book, offering to collect something from the library for Matt, and when Matt turned him down reading out excerpts on the integration of found objects into children's play and the ways that can expand dexterity and creativity. This wing of the institute was quiet in the evening and eventually Matt found the words to say so.

"Did nobody tell you? We changed the name to the Jean Grey School after the professor died. Don't worry about Jeannie, she's alright. We had a bit of a scare, but she's back with us. But then we'd already changed the nameplates and put in the statue and done a lotta paperwork. Its our little in-joke, I guess. But yeah, the kids know you're back, so I told 'em to keep it quiet indoors for a bit. And I'm the scary headmaster, so they're listening for now."

X The Near Future X

Karen must have been relaxing at home too, because she was rocking the casual-casual look. Like business casual but with more sweatpants. But Foggy figured if there was anyone who could pull off sweatpants as business casual it was probably Karen. Also, does it count as business if you're sitting home alone typing up a story? His mind tends to wander when he's stressed. She was already pacing at Matt's door by the time he arrived with the emergency key. She gave a little wave and a tight smile.

"No answer. I talked to Fran, she says she hasn't seen Matt in a few weeks but that they haven't rented the place out to someone new."

Foggy nodded. "Okay." The key clicked in the lock and they stepped into the entryway.

It looked like a tornado had gone through the place. There was a cane lying on the floor, snapped in half. Papers from Matt's files were littered over the floor. Someone had ripped the cushions out of the couch and slit them open. The cabinet by the stairs was open and the trunk within strewn onto the floor. Karen caught his eye, then went to investigate. No Daredevil stuff on the floor, but maybe whoever turned the place over had taken it with them. Foggy went to the kitchen.

It was empty, and not normal Murdock-humans-need-food-for-sustenance empty. There was nothing in the fridge, not even a bottle of water. The cabinets were similarly bare, except for what looked like a flour spill on a lower shelf. The mason jars Matt had been using to hold dry goods he found in the trash can, shattered, along with their contents. In fact, it looked like all the non-perishables had been thrown in the trash.

The bedroom wasn't much better. All of Matt's clothes were left in a pile on the floor. The mattress had been upended and left on it's side, boxes that had been under the bed were all emptied dumped on the carpet. Matt's watch sat in a patch of calm on the table beside his bed.

He turned to leave the bedroom and nearly ran into Karen and most certainly did not let out a shriek because Foggy wasn't rattled by the ghost town/crime scene that had replaced his ex-bestie's apartment.

"Sorry!" Karen said. She scrubbed her hand over her face. "I don't think Matt's been here for awhile. And he wouldn't do this, right? Even if he were having some sort of...break, he wouldn't break the bathroom mirror and empty all his food into the trash, right?"

"I'm thinking organized crime, of some sort. Either Matt got himself in trouble or somebody figured out Daredevil. Those are about the options, right? The question is, where'd he go next?"

"You don't think someone took him?" Karen hoisted her purse higher on her hip.

"Well, one, Matt's Daredevil. I think the place would be more messy, like with blood and stuff, if that had happened. And second, he came back here after all this," Foggy said. "There are some things that are perfectly in place. His watch is right where he'd have put it. The windows must have been open to blow the paper into the entryway, but he shut them and locked latched them. His work shoes are right between the night stand and the bed, where he always puts them. It's a compulsion. He came back here, got changed probably, straightened a few things and didn't come back. We need more evidence. Let's hit Matt's church next and see what he was doing before all this."

X The Past X

"So not only is there mandatory PE, it's every day? Even during the summer? Even though I'm going to be taking classes at the high school, which will also require me to take gym class?"

Logan laughed. "Geez, kid, you sure whine a lot once you get going. And yeah, we believe in physical fitness. I talked Chuck down from running the school like a paramilitary after-school club, but we still all gotta be prepared for the worst. Somebody figures out this is where all the weirdos live, people could get nasty. Also, it's good to hang out with people your own age. Toss you into the frying pan together, best way to make friendships on the fly."

"So you say," Matt said. He'd have pushed his hands into his jean pockets and slouched like a proper teenager, but he needed a hand free for the cane and that threw slouching all out of balance.

"Half my friends are from the army, a quarter of them are from classified shit I can't tell you 'bout and most of the rest I made in bar fights. Hell yeah, kid. The frying pan effect works."

He pushed open a door that led to what was unmistakably a locker room. Matt gulped a breath of air to hold once he was inside. Logan chuckled. "Yeah, good point. I'll grab your gym clothes and you can get changed in your room."

"I'll be fine." The basement where he'd trained with Stick had smelled perennially of mold and occasionally of whatever vile distraction he was supposed to be training to ignore. "I don't need special accommodations."

"No, we need to air this place out and I need to talk to Roberto about his excessive use of cologne and do us all a favor. In the meantime, I'll grab you some gym clothes."

It wasn't really worth fighting, so Matt ended up hiking back to his room (past five doors on the right, then turn to the stairs, up two flights, thirteen steps each, left at the top of the stairs, sixth door on the left) and back down again wearing what felt like some absurd sporty fabric that clung like spandex. It was probably in bright school colors. He wondered what the Xavier Institute's school colors were.

By the time he made it back to the gym, there were people there. Five young people, judging from their heartrates, taste in cologne and similar gym uniforms. And then Logan and a woman with hair that went straight up. Was that the fashion now?

"Come in, Matthew," the woman spoke. Her voice was deeper than he'd expected and tinged with an accent he couldn't place. But she sounded like she was smiling around the words.

Matt stepped tentatively inside, folding up his cane but unsure of where to put it. The space was wide open, with little in the way of equipment, from the echoes as he walked. The kids were standing in a semicircle in front of Logan and the woman. He wanted these people to like him. He was probably going to have to introduce himself. He ran over a few possible phrasings, rehearsing them as he walked over.

"Alright guys, we're going to have standard danger room practice. But first, we've got a new student. So introductions and then placement tests for Matthew before we get back on schedule. Come on, kid, introduce yourself."

"Um, hi? My name's Matt Murdock. I'm fifteen and I'm from Hell's Kitchen, New York."

Some of the students might have nodded in response. Or there might be buffeting air currents from the ventilation system. The woman said, "Hello Matthew. I'm Ororo Monroe and I'm on the staff at the Xavier Institute. I can manipulate air currents and weather patterns. What are your gifts?"

Matt tapped the cane in his hand against his leg, a nice rhythmic pattern. He hadn't prepared for this. "I'm blind, no light perception. But I can tell where things are and how they move."

"Psychically?" One of the students, probably a girl by the voice, asked.

"Um, no?" He smiled, then swallowed that smile and tried to describe it better. "I have, I hear really well. And I have enhanced senses. I track what's going on around me with sounds, air currents, vibrations, like that?"

"Cool," a different student said. Definitely an accent. "It is nice to meet you, Matt. My name is Kurt Wagner. I'm from Germany and I can teleport."

Kurt was weird. The air around him moved slower, like their was a lot of friction. And his hands seemed odd, maybe? Fine detail was tricky. A sudden motion and Matt realized that Kurt had a tail. Wicked. "Hi, Kurt. Are you, um, do you?" He tapered out, unsure if he was allowed to ask.

Kurt laughed, a bubbly trill that Matt could have listened to all day. "Can you sense from there that I am different?" He asked. He sounded gleeful, not upset. There was a pop of air and Kurt disappeared, then reappeared again with a bang in front of Matt. It took all of his tightly held self control not to duck at the sound. Kurt held out a hand and Matt took it, tracing incredibly soft fur and two wide fingers. "You are missing the full show, of course," Kurt said conspiratorially, "I look quite the demon."

"You feel soft," Matt said. He didn't even have time to regret how inane that sounded before Kurt laughed again.

"I'm always saying that if people used their eyes less they'd be slower with the pitchforks and torches and all that demon rubbish. I like you, Matt. Let us hang out sometime."

"Sure?" Matt was floundering a bit here.

Logan cleared his throat. "Okay guys, introductions. We don't have all day, Chuck's got me heading out of town again this evening, so unless you want him running this class..."

"Hi Matt, my name is Kitty Pryde and I'm sometimes intangible. I'm also thirteen and that's about it. Snap, snap, guys!" The girl who'd spoken was shorter, maybe younger than the rest. Her hair was curly, he thought, and she smelled of maybe lavender but mostly petrochemicals. Probably some sort of perfume, maybe deodorant.

"Nice to meet you," he replied.

"Um, don't mind Kitty. She and Professor Xavier don't get along well. I'm Jean, I'm sixteen years old and I also go to the school in town, so we'll be classmates there. I have telekinesis and limited telepathy, it comes and goes."

Jean stepped forwards to shake hands. She was taller than most of them and had a hell of a lot more poise. Matt resolved to try to stay out of her way as much as possible so she might continue to think he was cool.

"Hisako Ichiki," the last of the girls said. She was the one, he thought, who'd asked if his powers were telepathic. "I can create spirit armor. It's pretty wickedly cool. I'm fourteen years old and I take classes here."

"That sounds really cool," Matt said. "I mean, all of this sounds pretty cool. Unbelievably so. How is this all a secret?"

"The professor believes in preventative memory alterations," Jean said. "He messes with people's perceptions so they don't notice us."

"Is that ethical?" Matt asked. It certainly wasn't legal.

Nobody answered for a bit. "It lets us keep the school running," Logan said eventually. "Try not to think about it too much. Summers, go on and introduce yourself."

"Hey," the last kid said, fiddling with his glasses, "we're kind of twins. I mean, hi, I'm Scott Summers. I have laser eyes. And I have protective glasses to stop from hurting people by accident," he tapped the glass, or probably not glass if it stopped lasers. "We're glasses twins."

"Nice to meet you, Scott. I can take them off, I just, I like them. People don't generally like seeing what's different about a person."

Kurt nodded, "Well, that's certainly true."

"Okay, Matt, what can you do, physically? Do you have any training in martial arts or any sports background?" Ororo asked.

Matt shrugged. "I had a teacher when I was ten, he taught me some martial arts. And I knew some boxing theory from my dad. But I haven't gotten to do much lately. The orphanage is pretty strict about not letting blind kids on the playground equipment or out after hours."

"How long were you with your teacher?"

"A year and four months. About half that time we spent on sensory control, a few hours a day. The second half was intensive combat and that was maybe six hours a day, but mostly at night because St. Agnes didn't actually know about it."

"And then?" Logan asked.

"Then he left."

Logan left it at that. "Okay. First up, let's try hand to hand and see how good you are. Kids, get out the mats, me and Matty here are going to go a few rounds."

Matt bit his lip. "Against you?"

"Sure, kid. You sparred, right? Got that look about you."

Never with anyone except Stick. And that was years ago. But hell, there was no time like the present, right?

i continue to enjoy this!

X The Present X

Getting out of bed was a lot of work. Physically he was fine, he knew that. He could hear his body, nothing was out of the ordinary except for the pounds he'd lost and that lingering broken rib. It was all in his head, and if Stick had taught him anything, it was that what was in your head didn't matter. What mattered was what was right in front of you. So he got up and found the clothes he'd been wearing when Scott picked him up, now washed, and got changed. And he put one foot in front of the other until he found himself in the hallway.

Scott wasn't on the third floor, that was certain. There were some heartbeats downstairs and a gentle clanking of somebody at work in the garage, too far away to say who. Matt decided to try the garage first, trailing the wall with one hand so he could focus less on his immediate surroundings. By the time he reached the first floor the air was bustling with life. Someone was putting away dishes and setting the silverware to sing in their drawers. A few kids were at work in the danger room with one of the teachers, not someone who's heart he could recognize at this distance. A few people puttered in their rooms and Matt caught Kurt on the phone in the living room, speaking softly over the ever present hum of the television. But no Scott, so perhaps the garage was the right choice.

It was blustery outside, the cold immediately cutting into his exposed hands and feet and oh. He'd left his shoes up in his room. But no mind, it wasn't far to the garage. The cobbles were icy to touch, so he walked quickly until he got to the garage side door. There was music on, a band he remembered Scott trying to get him into back when they were kids. Scott hummed along with the backing vocals, picking up the harmony when they dropped off. Matt let himself in.

There was a clank as Scott dropped something, wrench, maybe. Then it bounced and the room became an echo chamber. Matt barely stopped himself from lifting both hands protectively to his ears.

"Shit, sorry Matt. You surprised me there," Scott said, placing a hand on the fallen wrench to stop it singing. He hoisted himself to his feet, giving the motorcycle he'd been working on an affectionate pat before walking over. "Need something?" he asked, passing Matt to get to the sink and try to wipe the haze of grease off his hands.

"I need to go back," Matt said.

"Were you doing something important before I picked you up, Matt? Because you looked like you were living on the streets and very slowly dying of malnutrition. Was that a cover for some Daredevil operation?"

And of course, Scott knew about Daredevil. Of course he did. And of course, his first thought was to offer a rationalization (Matt hadn't gotten far enough in his thinking to make one up). All Matt would have to do is that that olive branch and spin it till Scott let him go back.

Scott had, at one point, been his friend. And Matt had lost so many friendships to his lies, his mistakes and his arrogance in the past few months. He couldn't quite manage to take that olive branch and the deceit that would go with it.

"It wasn't for Daredevil," he said. "I gave that up. But I need to go back."

Scott waited a few moment, felt like minutes, before he replied. It had been his habit in Matt's company. "Would you go back to doing the same thing?"

He should lie. Lying was easy, he'd been doing it all his life. Some days he felt more lie than human. "Yes."

"Why? Matt, I don't know what happened, and I'm not willing to ask Jean or Rachel find out for me. I don't know what you think you deserve. But it's not this, okay? We all want you to be okay."

"I have to." He can't tell Scott, if he tells Scott he'll tell Jean and she'll tell Ororo and she'll tell Logan and then the school will get involved and he's not putting more people at risk. He can't tell Scott. "I have to keep them safe."

Scott is suddenly thunder and rumbling protectiveness and it sounds so much like Jack Murdock trying to find out the bully in 7C who'd pushed Matt down the stairs, age seven, that Matt has to consciously pull himself back into the present, be present to catch the words and not just the tone. "Who exactly are you keeping them safe from?"

X The Near Future X

"He'd stopped coming to Mass three weeks ago," Father Lantom said, stirring another spoonful of sugar into his coffee. They were in the meeting room, Foggy hadn't been aware that Catholic churches had meeting rooms. He wondered if clubs met here or just bible study groups. Father Lantom had been grave when they mentioned Matt's sudden disappearance, merely motioning them to follow him into the back. He'd known what was going on with Matt before, but he had no idea where he was right now.

"Matthew had been convinced that the death of a person he cherished deeply was his fault. I tried to reason against that, but he's stubborn. And, unless I miss my mark, probably suffering from depression."

Foggy grimaced. "Off and on since I've known him. He went to counseling, back in the day, but I don't think they ever proscribed anything. He hadn't mentioned anything about it in years, I thought maybe he was finally past it."

"Well, I am not trained in these things, but that was my impression. He got a job briefly, but either couldn't hold it or didn't want to. Some nonprofit legal clinic. Then, the next week, I begin hearing from parishioner's that Matthew has been living on the streets. It made no sense. I went out, but couldn't find him. There are crisis workers for such things, it's winter and we don't want anybody to freeze, but they all said that Matthew refused to go to any shelter. He'd take food, if you gave it to him, but wouldn't take money or go to any of the local soup kitchens. It was like he'd lost all will to live."

"Shit," Karen said, turning away and fetching a pack of tissues out of her purse.

Father Lantom paused, but didn't comment. "I stopped getting sightings a week ago. He hasn't been seen at any of his regular spots since. I know he doesn't have any family, but does he have any other friends who might have been in contact with him?"

"I'm pretty sure we were his only friends," Foggy said.

X The Past X

"That was amazing. I've never seen anybody flip Logan like that. Without using powers, I mean," Scott said breathlessly. They'd ended up in Scott's room after practice, after showers. He was sprawled on the bed, head over the side. Matt had taken a spot on the floor where he could feel the vibrations of conversations below rumble through his rib cage. It was a weird sensation, but the whole day had been weird, and it was weird in a kinda good day.

"I was using my," he really didn't want to say powers, that sounded ridiculous, "hearing. Logan's bones are metal, you know. It throws off his whole center of gravity. I can just sorta feel it."

"It was still amazing. And you couldn't see the look on his face either."

"What did it look like?"

"Somewhere between pure shock, utter confusion and 'wha-huh? that doesn't happen to me'. It was gold. Hey, I know we were just running around forever, but do you want to go outside? I've got this perfect shady spot out back, we could, I dunno. Play catch? Just sit. Whatever you wanted."

"My legs feel like mush," Matt said. He pulled himself onto his feet with a grimace. "Lead the way, Summers. You have trees round these parts? I've always wanted to climb a tree."

"I think I could scrounge up a tree if you really wanted one." Scott pulled on a pair of shoes and led the way out into the hall. "Wait, you can't see. Has anyone told you about the interior decorating in here?"

"Um, no? I can tell there's a lot of wood paneling, it's got a distinctive scent. And canvas, oil, probably paintings. There are curtains by the windows, but that's about all I've got."

So Scott launches into a detailed description of a Victorian tutor romance style mansion beset by floral print curtains and pointed out all the movie posters that students had hung to replace classic landscapes that had been 'misplaced'. They weren't feeling the stairs, so they took the elevator down, which was disconcertingly quiet with very little airflow. Matt pointed out that none of the buttons were labeled in braille and Scott very seriously replied that he would "talk it over with the professor".

"Does he like you? He didn't seem to want me here," Matt said, neglecting to mention that he knew for sure what the professor had mentioned on the subject.

"Like is a strong word for the professor, I think. He has to exert a lot of control to not accidentally end up in people's heads - telepaths, you know. So he tries to maintain emotional distance to make that easier. That's my theory anyway. But he seems to appreciate having me around, I think. I've been here longest, actually. Ororo and Logan came on as adults. The professor has some colleagues near his age, but they don't stay here full time."

"How long?" Matt asks. They take a side door out onto the drive and then cut around the back of the house to the grass.

"Five years at this point. Picked me up from an orphanage in Nebraska."

"I was already at St. Agnes five years ago," Matt said. He didn't say, I wish someone had brought me here back then. Who knows if that was even true. Instead he said, "Which way to the trees, Mr. Summers? Point me and I'll race you."

"Weren't you the one complaining about being tired?" Scott said. He took Matt's shoulders and pivoted him maybe fourteen degrees to the left. There was something in the distance there, beyond the grass, which only came up to mid-calf. The wind above rustled through leaves and defined an outline that wavered in and out of focus.

"Maybe I was trying to throw you off so I'd win." Damn, that didn't even make sense. He hadn't spent so much time talking to someone in...maybe years. Ah well, maybe if he ran off Scott would be distracted and wouldn't notice. "See you there!"

"Unlikely," Scott said, taking off at a sprint after Matt.

The ground was uneven and near impossible to sense under the sway of the grass, so he just rolled with it and tried not to stumble. The trees loomed as he got closer, the sounds of Scott's breathing and near laughter dancing by his left shoulder.

He hit a root with his left foot, tried to recover, realized in a moment of panic that he was going way too fast and hit the dirt. He had enough time to get his hands under him before he hit. Scott, right on his heels, tripped on his legs and fell on top of him.

"Nobody saw that, right? Please tell me nobody saw that," Matt said, wiggling out from under Scott to maneuver himself to sitting.

"No clue," Scott said, voice slightly pinched. "Hey Matt, my glasses kinda went flying. Any chance you could-"

"Yeah, um, just maybe hold your breath for a moment?" Glasses didn't make noise. The grass was tall enough to hide a pair of glasses the same way it had hidden the tree root. They didn't have much of a scent, just a trace of Scott, but probably not enough to go off of. They'd be the same temperature as the ambient air.

Glasses didn't make noise under normal circumstances. Matt hoisted his folded cane in his left hand and tapped it on the ground. Nothing. He felt around for something solid, found a rock and tried again. Something hummed in the grass in front of them. Matt picked up the rock and tested a few steps closer. Bingo. He grabbed the glasses and passed them to Scott.

"Vibrations?" Scott said, relaxing once th glasses were seated back on his face.

"Everything vibrates if it's noisy enough. Easier with my cane, I didn't think to bring it with me. Give me some warning next time you're going to have a glasses emergency."

"Wouldn't have happened if the master of vibrations over here hadn't tripped me."

"Eh, the grass is mucking everything up. I've discovered my one true weakness. Grass."

"Well don't tell Logan or he'll have you out in the yard cutting it one blade at a time. He's big into conquering your limitations in symbolic ways, I think he picked it up on one of his spiritual journeys to Japan. And he hates lawn work."

"I'll take that under advisement. Hey, Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"If I get to stay here," he wasn't going to say that was a given, once you started counting on a thing it went away, "want to be friends?"

"Yeah Matt, I think I'd like that."

So this ended up being a lot of plot and a lot of dialogue. On the bright side, I ended up within 300 words of my intended word count (technically I have a different writing project I was supposed to be working on when this prompt hijacked my brain). I am super open to writing a few shorts in this setting. I'm definitely going to try to write one that matches the original prompt (the X-men helping Daredevil in a fight).

Other things that totally happen in this world that I may or may not write:
- Logan teaches Matt to enjoy the finer things about enhanced senses (teen Matt)
- Matt and Scott steal Logan's motorcycle to go to a sci-fi convention they weren't allowed to go to (teen Matt)
- Matt asks Nightcrawler to prom with him, they date briefly and are really cute (teen Matt)
- Ororo takes Matt flying
- Foggy comes to visit the school for a day and everyone plays 'hide-the-evidence-we're-superpowered', hijinks ensue

Lemme know if you've got suggestions/ideas and enjoy!

X The Present X

"Jean, call everybody to the conference room. We've got a pest control problem." Scott spoke out loud, but it was clearly only for Matt's benefit - he and Jean had established a telepathic link back before Matt graduated. Scott knelt down and began to untie his boots. He pulled them off and walked over to where Matt was lingering by the door.

"Hey, Matt, they might be a bit big on you, but they should fit. Shoes on."

Matt shook his head. "I'm not taking your shoes."

"You're taking my shoes, might as well get used to it. And then we're walking across the courtyard to the war room and we're going to decide what would be the most efficient way to destroy this guy."

"No. You can't risk-"

"Hey Matt, I really like this new attitude. But in the short term I'm going to carry you or you're going to wear the shoes. Let this one go and fight the battles that matter."

Scott's boots were steel toed, he'd been right. The walk back across the courtyard was quick, because Matt didn't want Scott suffering for his spotty self awareness lately. They headed inside and then to the conference room. Maybe half the school was there, sitting or standing around the conference table. "Alright guys, I'm going to need a conference call set up with Kitty and Doug. We're probably going to need tech backup on this one."

Logan strolled in and wandered over to the far side of the table, snagging a seat next to Kurt. "Hey Summers, what we got? We haven't done a war party in good while."

"You want to tell them, Matt, or should I?" Scott asked. Matt shook his head and leaned forwards onto the table where he could hide his head in his arms. Scott rested one hand protectively on his shoulder and cleared his throat.

"We all know that Matt became a lawyer after graduation. I assume most of you knew that his firm helped with the take down of one, overambitious, real estate developer and criminal boss, Wilson Fisk. Turns out, Fisk has leveraged his influence to basically run the prison where he is awaiting trial. Matt went there to find information for a different case and caught Fisk's eye by threatening legal action against Fisk's girlfriend."

Logan whistled. "I like it."

Illyana leaned her chair back, feet on the table. "And then, I presume, this criminal decided to get even."

"He threatened to financially ruin and then have assassinated Matt's two former work associates. Matt offered himself up instead."

Matt protested. "He wanted what I wanted."

"Jean, could we have a bubble for a moment," Scott said, twirling a finger in the air to indicate a small circle. The sound of everyone else in the room breathing abruptly cut out as Jean held the air back from vibrating. Scott knelt down next to Matt. "Matt, he offered you the chance to die without it being suicide. You were in a bad headspace and you didn't see a way out. But Matt, I need you to know that whatever you fucked up back in New York, you're worth having around."

Matt shook his head. "I drove off everyone except Electra and then I got her killed. I'm not worth this, Scott."

"If you never put on the suit again and never tried another case, you'd still be worth having around. You've already done plenty, okay? You've done plenty. Matt, you're my friend. And even if you can't accept that right now, if we let Fisk get away with this, who does he do this to next? We've got to act."

Matt thought about it. It wasn't that he wanted to die. But back in New York it had seemed so tidy. A storage unit rented with cash with the suit neatly folded. A few goodbye letters left at Josie's to be mailed six months on. All Fisk had asked was that he stop everything and fade away; there was nothing he'd wanted more. Something he could do without fucking up. But obviously Scott was right, he couldn't just let Fisk blackmail people, run a criminal empire from prison. Fisk hadn't lied when he said Karen and Foggy would be alright if he followed through, but who would he target next.

"Okay."

Scott took his hand and squeezed. "Thank you, Matt. Jean?"

The tension around the bubble broke and the heartbeats and chitchat filtered back in. Scott outlined the deal in rough detail. "What we need is a plan. The most obvious choice is to kill Fisk."

Matt shook his head. "No."

"I dunno, Murdock, I like that plan," Logan said. "What if we just roughed him up a little bit, put the fear of mutants into him?"

"Logan, we're not supposed to exist. Please, let's not start revealing our existence by threatening criminal overlords," Rachel said.

Jean put an arm around her shoulder. "Well said, Rachel. And no, we're not killing this man. We have no idea what measures he might have put in place in the event of his death."

"Thanks Mom," Rachel said.

"Okay, so the problem is that this man has power and influence in prison. Could we get him sent to a different prison, one where he'd have less influence?" Illyana said, tipping her chair back forward with a clunk.

"I like it," Scott said. "We gather proof of his crimes in prison, forward them to the right source, get him removed from power. But how do we protect Matt's colleagues in particular?"

"What if that was part of the information we turned over to the authorities?" Logan leaned forwards, angling his body towards Illyana. "What if we had recordings of Fisk blackmailing Murdock. What if we could get testimony from whatever hired thugs he has on hand? If we had that, you could probably get federal protection for them."

"There is no recording," Matt protested.

"There's no recording now. Illyana ports back in time with Rachel, they tape the meetings while Rachel masks their presence so they aren't fucking up the timestream too bad. Port back forwards. You turn the recording over to the police and testify. Kitty and Doug go through digital records to eliminate any financial holdings he's got in foreign banks. I go to New York with Scott and scare the shit out of any enforcers he's got working for him. We get Raven and Irene to go to their government contacts and tip them off to Fisk's amassing power base, subtly encourage him being put somewhere with lots of security and oversight. Two days work, tops, nobody loses their secret identity, nobody gets killed, easy."

"Oh sure, easy," Illyana said. "Clearly you've never tried to manage time-linked stepping disks. Me and Rachel might end up living invisible for a week or two if I overshoot."

"Hey, it's the perfect opportunity to get some NYC touristing in. Could be fun," Logan said.

"If Illyana can do it, I think it's a go. Matt, I'll need you to think of any possible evidence we can turn over. Property he's destroyed, threats made, goodbye messages you sent, anything. I want this to go smooth. Anyone with an objection to the plan, speak now or speak later, always feel free to raise objections as they come to you, but I'd rather hear them now."

X The Near Future X

Foggy gets the call sitting on the floor of Karen's apartment, trying to explain to Karen that no, they should not drink the bottle of whiskey she'd found in her cabinet. Technically he had work the next morning. She had work the next morning. And alcohol wasn't going to help them think of new avenues to help Matt.

"Hey Nelson, it's Brett. Called as soon as I could. Remember how you were in here asking questions about Murdock three days ago?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well he turned up at the station three hours ago with a box of tape recordings of Wilson Fisk. Some of it has to do with you, can you meet at at Metro General?"

"He's in the hospital? Is Matt okay?"

"He's okay. They wanted him in for observation because he's dangerously underweight and he's been out on the streets. And we're documenting old injuries for evidence."

"Evidence of what?" Shit, they were going to find out about Daredevil. No way could Matt lie his way out of his near-autopsy scars. That man couldn't lie his way out from under a rock.

"Apparently Murdock wasn't just clumsy. He was being leaned on by Fisk's right hand man to take legal cases and to drop your investigations into Fisk's dealings. One James Wesley, unfortunately deceased. Unfortunately because I'd really like to kick his ass. Murdock looks like he was vivisected. He never told you?"

Foggy met Karen's eyes. "No, he said he'd been hit by a car. But his apartment was trashed, someone had busted up his furniture. Me and Karen are on our way. Are you with him? Matt really hates hospitals."

"I stepped out for a bit to call you; he's been asking for you. But no, a friend of his from high school is here. Apparently ran into Murdock on the street and convinced him to turn in his evidence on Fisk."

"Matt has friends from high school?"

"His name is Scott Summers. I assume it was some school for the vision impaired, because they've got matching shades. Come on over, Nelson, I've only got a few more minutes here and then I've got to roll out, we're taking down Fisk."

"Fisk is in jail."

"Exactly," Brett said. Then he hung up. He really enjoyed lording privileged information over Foggy, he always had.

Matt looked small in the hospital bed, probably because he'd shed at least twenty pounds. His hair had gotten longer, he'd tied it back, but he was clean shaven. But he had his glasses on his face and a hint of a smile. If Foggy hadn't known better, he would have described the smile as shark-like. The man sitting with Matt was dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans, bright red sunglasses with dark frames. He had a motorcycle helmet on the floor next to him and one hand tangled with Matt's. He looked up as they entered the room and gave Foggy a serious nod.

"Do you want me to leave so you two can talk?" he asked Matt, not bothering to tell Matt that visitors had arrived. Another person in on Matt's secrets?

Matt shook his head. "Stay."

Foggy was suddenly unsure of what to say. He had no idea what was going on, what it had to do with Fisk, how this random dude had found Matt when they'd been searching high and low all week. He wasn't mad at Matt any more, as per say, he just didn't know whether they were friends. Matt had cut him out for good reasons.

"Hey Nelson," the man in the chair said. "I'm glad to see you're safe. The police might assign a protective detail to you and Miss Paige, depending on how they assess the legitimacy of Fisk's threats. If not, we'll find private security."

"Are you Matt's boyfriend?" Karen asked, taking in the hand holding, the protective slouch as Mr. Summers leaned over Matt.

That broke through Matt's icy shell and he started wheezing with laughter. Scott smiled, a flash of a grin that he immediately hid. "No. No, we are not dating, nor have we ever dated nor will we ever date. I'm married actually. I have a daughter named Rachel and a baby boy on the way eventually."

"Eventually," Matt said with a weirdly knowing tone of voice, like they were sharing a private joke.

"Hey Matt, I have no idea what's going on," Foggy said, "but I know I wasn't there for you when it looks like you needed it. I don't know what we are right now, but I'm really-"

"I'm going upstate for a couple of months, once the police don't need me any more," Matt said, cutting him off. "I'm going to stay with Scott's family for awhile; I just need the time. I've been a bad friend, these past few months. I was a worse business partner. If you'll have me, when I get back, I'd like to tell you my side of the story. And Karen?"

"Yeah?" Karen said.

"We made a terrible couple. But the same offer holds for you; if you want to be friends when I get back, I'd love to be your friend again. This time with a few fewer secrets."

He smiled at Scott like this was another private joke. Foggy wondered what he was missing, but decided it wasn't really any of his business.

"Hey man, all I ever wanted was for you to be safe. I can't say that we should work together again, but I still want to be friends with you. You'll keep an eye on him, Summers?"

Scott offered a hand to shake, "My word on it. When Matt wants back to New York, you'll get him back, safe and sound."

"Be safe, Matt," Karen said. "I know I didn't keep my word last time. But this time, I promise it's the truth. Whenever you're ready to tell me, I'm ready to listen. No judgments."

Author's note: hahaha the idea of claiming Wesley tortured Matt. Fisk would deny it, of course, but there's no one who can prove it didn't happen. Best I could do to explain them on short notice.

i enjoyed this fill a lot. thanks for sharing!

love love love. matt getting time and space to recover, matt getting -help-, the x-men jumping in for one of their own. hee.

Oh, this is so fun! I love it! <3

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