Symphony for the Devil (Daredevil)

The Lawyer

"I just can't do this anymore, Matt!" Talia Ramirez shot up from the study session and cried suddenly, throwing the law textbook at her dorm room wall, her frustration overcoming her. "I just can't! This isn't me, this is my parents, my dad's guilt-trip into this after my mom-" her voice cracked and tears erupted from her eyes, the anger left as quickly as it had come, crumbling into the desperation that she'd been hiding for months.

"Hey, hey, hey," Matt Murdock stood, quickly setting his braille pages aside. He held his arms out and Talia melted into them. "You don't have to be a lawyer if you don't want to be." he spoke into her ear and pulled his head back and turned her head to him so she could see the sincerity in his face, "You shouldn't be doing anything that you don't want to, okay? Talia?"

She nodded unnecessarily, and laughed sadly at her mistake, "Yeah. I know. You're right.... You know you're a pretty great, as far as unofficial tutors go."

"My first student just decided to drop out of law school, so that's arguable," he laughed back, his smile lighting up his whole face. His hand still rested close to hers. Talia outright giggled and noticed his dark rectangular glasses were uneven from the hug, so she lifted her own hand and fixed them, brushing his cheek and dark hair when she repositioned it back to his shoulder. She realized how close they still were, and considered backing off, but Matt's smile lingered, and she thought not.

"It's not your fault I had a mental breakdown on your watch. I- I'm sorry." She edged away shamefully.

"It's okay, alright?" he said, easing her back to him, his hands in hers for reassurance. "What do you really want to do?"

"I... I guess I've always had a kind of passion for art. Painting, sculpting, all of that. I don't know," she answered self-consciously.

"Yes, you do know." Matt told her. Talia couldn't help but feel more confident with Matt's gracious encouragement. She was unsure of whether it was the smoothness of his voice or her trust in him that convinced her, but she was enamored with him. She took his hands and lifted it to her face, surprised at the gentleness in them as she showed him her smile. He smiled his big grin once again and hers grew brighter. "You know, I bet you're a wonderful artist. Not that I would know."

"I tell you what, if I ever get a sculpture in an art museum, I'll make sure that it can be touched, starting from the very first showing. Just for you."

"That's quite the offer," he laughed, but his tone shifted to a strong promise, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

...........................................................................................................................

A clanking of metal broke Talia from her dream on the uncomfortable bed. An old cop was opening the holding cell door. She sat up and stood hesitantly, glaring at him through the bars and the pale mid-morning light from the barred window behind him. He stepped forward. "Where are we going?" Talia asked, her voice slightly shaking.

"Questioning," he answered bluntly, and handcuffed her, leading her out.

Talia considered her dream as she was lead down the featureless corridor. A memory from years ago. It hardly made sense for her to dream such a good, empowering, extremely beneficial choice in her life when it all was falling apart. Her father was dead. And she was the leading suspect.

She'd never been close to her father, but the single time she visited him in years was the night of his murder. And she had fought him, loud enough for the entire law firm to hear. Frankly, she was surprised that the police didn't show up at her apartment sooner.