daredevilkink | Defenders Prompt Post #1

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This post is for prompts involving everyone in Netflix's The Defenders! Crossovers between anyone in the four individual shows should go here. Prompts only including characters from one show should still go on the relevant show prompt post.

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General
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Title: Suicide is Painless, it brings on many changes part 3/?
Author: StarWindDancer
Pairing: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Danny Rand/Colleen Wing, Defenders together!
Warnings: Explicit. Major character deaths ahead.

Authors note: now getting to the meat of the story.

There’s frantic banging on the door to Alias Investigations. It wakes her up to another bleary morning.
OK, she’s only 80% sure that it’s before noon. The smell of coffee in the air indicating that Malcolm had stopped by to make some. If it’d been after noon, the smell would already be gone.
And, oh, yeah, there is a still lukewarm cup at her desks edge.
“Come in. It’s open,” Jones says, gulping the tepid liquid before pouring a measure of... well, the bottle was open and it was alcoholic. She didn't rightly care. It was just dredges at this point anyways.
“Ah, yeah, just,” fumbling. Sounds like two people tussling for a moment before some stranger walks in with a very distracted and agitated Matt Murdock. The stranger is practically dragging the blind man behind him.
The guy is kinda large, on the elderly side. Probably was a linebacker in his youth but that was so far back that the guy didn’t look on it as the glory days. Probably spent more time chasing after grandchildren. Probably older grand kids, just hitting puberty. Friendly smile, open face. Abashed posture.
As for Matt Murdock, he looks like shit. His cane is hanging by the wrist strap, tripping both of the men up. His clothes looked rumpled; half done up like he’d dressed in a hurry. Still in sleep pants rather than his usual slacks. Wearing an over large, too warm coat for this time of year. Glasses askew. Gym bag slung over his back. A familiar gym bag. Two different shoes on the wrong feet. Like he’d just grabbed two from the lineup by his front door and tossed them on. Grumbling at something that only he could sense.
She’s across the room, grabbing onto the lawyer before she can really think about it. The elderly man isn’t a threat but something is very wrong here. Murdock clings back, holding her tight enough that if she was normal, it’d hurt & bruise. Still might. The vigilante wasn’t average either.
“I found him wandering in the streets, bumping into things. He kept insisting that he’s fine but I couldn’t just let him just accidentally walk into the street, now could I? Kept talking about saving a castle? And insisting he needed to get here, to Alias Investigations. Is he a friend of yours? Is he, you know,” the elderly man waved a hand at his head. “Ah, never mind. It probably isn’t politically correct to say that anymore. I mean, if he’s having an attack or a disassociation episode? Is that what they’re called?”
“You delivered him. Now get out,” Jones ordered. The abashed elderly man wasn’t useful to this part of the plot. She had to figure out what was up with space-case here. She really didn’t care as he left, slamming the door behind him.
More muttering, half words that she couldn’t make out. Murdock ducked, weaved side to side like he was avoiding something in a fight. His grip on her sweater tight, tearing in his agitation.
Damn, she liked this sweater.
“Snap out of it,” she yelled. She slapped him lightly across the face. Well, light for her.
Murdock jerked in her arms, stilling. His hand coming up to press against the flesh starting to redden from the sting. “OW!”
“Yeah, well, it’s what you deserve for ruining my favorite sweater. Now will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“OK, pain is good. You might have to slap me again in a minute,” Murdock said.
“I can go ahead and do it now,” Jones replied.
“Ah, just let me,” he said, tilting his head to examine the room. “He’s gone.”
She huffed at him; he could totally ask if they were alone. Always making things difficult. “Explain now,” she said.
“Right,” Murdock said. He shuffled away from her, trying to put himself to rights. Running his fingers through his wild hair. Adjusting his glasses. Patting down his front,
“While we’re still young,” Jones said. She’d gone to her desk to pull out a bottle of Rum from a drawer, half full. Not the rumchata in her coffee she’d prefer but wasn’t half bad.
“It’s not something I know how to explain. But I didn’t know what else to do. It’s not something I can handle on my own,” Murdock said. A jerk of his head. Quick shuffle of feet into a defensive posture. “Ah, you may need to slap me here in a minute. It’s getting harder to focus on the here and now.”
She threw a lotion bottle at him.
He missed, his fingers barely skimming the surface as it clattered across the room. What the hell?
“It’s not me, I can’t see the office,” he said.
“Really now,” her tone as dry as the desert. The blind jokes had gotten old after the first week of knowing him.
“No, I mean,” jerk of the head, ducking down. Murdock took a deep calming breath, wringing the top of his cane hard. “I mean… crap. Somebody is torturing Frank Castle. They’re holding him prisoner and I’m seeing what he’s seeing. I think they’re giving him psychotropics to cause nightmares, some type of visions. Except I’m seeing those visions too. Right now, in my head, I’m seeing myself fight with the Punisher on a roof top. We’re getting really, really close to the edge and I’d really like it to stop now.”
“So, you decided to walk here?” Jones asked. This didn’t make sense to her but she could tell that the lawyer wasn’t lying to her.
“Yes, not my best decision,” Murdock says. “But I didn’t know what to do. I need your help. We need to find him, get him out of there before… before whatever happens happens.”
His arms flail out while his feet dance under him. Exactly like he’s trying to catch himself from falling.
“I can’t control it. I’ve tried meditating, focusing in on him and trying to find out what’s going on but I can’t,” he sounds distraught. He’s starting to twitch like he’s reacting to stuff in his head. “Pain like when you slapped me or when I stubbed my toe getting ready, it helps. I can focus on the here & now better. I know it’s day time, but I brought my stuff. If you hit me, hurt me, we can get out there and find him. Please, I can’t...” Murdock throws himself hard to the side, hitting Malcolm’s desk heavily before tumbling to the ground.
Jones rushes over him, trying to assess the damage, keep him from moving before checking to see if he knocked himself senseless.
“Ow,” Murdock says, holding the side he hit the desk with. “Well, that works too. Shit. And I think those ribs had just healed up too.”
“But it should keep you focused while we figure out what to do,” Jones said as she helped him up. It took some fumbling to get him untangled from his stuff. The coat & cane hung by the door; the gym bag of DD’s stuff pushed under the sofa at his feet. He looked pretty pathetic there, with ice over his bruised ribs.
But Jessica Jones was on the case. Luke Cage and Fistboy are called. (He really hates you calling him that. And that’s why I do it. So asking you to stop calling me Devilcakes isn’t going to work. Ooh, I like that one. Hey, I never called you devilcakes? Oh, my bad. Must be someone else.)
Murdock dozes with the light banter between them. Jones’s, the private investigator tapping away at the keys, finding clues that he couldn’t see. (Really. Let’s be done with the blind jokes already. I’ll stop once the Fisting jokes stop being funny. That is never going to happen. I rest my case. )

Author here, I have no idea why the formatting keeps disappearing & changing. I have more of it fleshed out as a story. I'll put it on AO3 or something once I get more bugs worked out. Sorry about the sloppy posting.

This is beautiful

Defenders Prompt Post #1

Suicide is Painless, It brings on many changes (3/?)

Re: Suicide is Painless, It brings on many changes (3/?)

Re: Suicide is Painless, It brings on many changes (3/?)