I'm here.

[man_without_fear]

[previously: unbound]

Matt barrels through the door and finds himself in the hallway of the apartment building he'd left behind before being trapped in Milliways.

He takes a moment to get his bearings. Musty carpets, muffled TV's, traffic out on the street-- Russians.

Springing forward, Matt rushes for the stairwell; tackling the staircase several steps at a time and leaping the banister to drop the last flight. His lungs are burning and his heart is drumming loud when he finally makes the street.

The city slams into him: pedestrians and traffic, the caterwauling of sirens, dirty storm drains, and broken bottles reeking in the alleyway. But, no Russians, no car, and no Claire.

Hands on his hips and head tilted back at the sky, Matt struggles to catch his breath through the twin fists of defeat and guilt clamped around his windpipe.



He's lost her.



[dialogue taken from Netflix's Daredevil: 1.4 - In the Blood]

Comments

[man_without_fear]

"And what about the people I've hurt?" he counters. "What do I tell them?"

In each movement and breath she takes he can hear the signs of pain beneath.

Her heart and lungs each stutter when she tenses. One or two of her ribs are fractured, maybe broken. Each word she speaks seems to require extra enunciation to get around the split in her lip and the swelling of her jaw.

The Russian's may have been the ones to take her, but he's the one who did this to her.

[nocturnalmedicine]

She draws a short, careful breath, then another.

Her palms feel tight, itchy, clammy; she runs her hands along the thighs of her grime-streaked jeans, and opens her mouth to speak.

Her lower lip trembles.

She breathes out once more. In.

"Feel my heart."

[man_without_fear]

The unexpected request halts him from sinking further into the mire that was threatening to drag him down.

He cants his head, listening, hesitating, not sure what she wants from him.

[nocturnalmedicine]

His uncertainty reinforces her own resolve.

She licks her lips, and gestures to her chest.

"C'mon, feel it."

She takes his hand in both of hers, and guides his palm to her sternum. Beneath the thin cotton of her sweat-stained blouse and camisole, behind bruised skin and aching bone, the rabbit-quick drum shares secrets meant only for Mike's heightened senses to interpret.

"What is it telling you?"

[man_without_fear]

Her heart hammers beneath his palm, an unsteady, flighty beat that matches the tremble in her voice.

"That you're scared."

Fear, real and palpable radiates from her, but underneath, in the grip on his hand, and the strength in her voice that undercuts the tremor, he feels more than that. A resolve.

[nocturnalmedicine]

She nods.

"Because I am. More than I've ever been in my life," she says, each word growing stronger, steadier, with conviction. "And I am not alone. But you can do something about it."

In this small, shared space, hope suddenly feels like something holy. She rests their clasped hands in her lap, her fingers tightening around his.

"For all of us, Mike."

[man_without_fear]

He listens to her words; confession and reassurance wrapped into a plea.

"I want to believe in what you're doing, I really do... "

"Matthew." His gives her his name with resolve renewed. "My name is Matthew."

She's earned his trust, and thanks to her he's starting to see the bigger picture in what he's doing.

[nocturnalmedicine]

Matthew.

Mike's name is Matthew.

He's trusting her, here; he's letting her in.

As they sit in silence, knees touching, Matthew's callused hand held between her scraped palms, Claire's heart begins to beat with belief.