Matt Murdock Shorts

Prison

You're sitting on the sofa in Matt's arms, but his embrace holds none of the comfort it normally does. Despite months of court, piles upon piles of paperwork, and enough migraines to last everyone involved the rest of their life, Matt was sentenced to ten years in prison. Sure, Foggy and Matt both told you he'd be out sooner on good behavior or whatever bullshit they thought would make you feel better, but you know better. Ten years is a long time and Foggy used every favor he had left to get the two of you this last night together. You and Matt should take it and enjoy every second.

That's not to say you haven't tried. You asked Matt what he wanted for dinner and he made a joke about last meals. You didn't laugh. Neither of you had the energy for anything special, so you settled on your usual weeknight go-to. Both of you stand in the kitchen, leaning on opposite counters. You watch Matt, and he must be focusing on you in his own way because he offers a forced smile from where he's standing. It doesn't reach his eyes. The sound of the stove and city fill the space between you, taunting you with normalcy even though you can feel time wrenching you forward into the reality of Matt's impending incarceration.

The silence is palpable, even to Matt. He may be able to hear the whole city, but right now, the only thing that has his attention is you. You, standing across from him, not with him during your last night together. You, with your jaw set, teeth grinding as you stare off, your breathing changing with your train of thought, he assumes, but never as if you're going to be the one to break the silence. The longer it goes on, the more it feels like a spell, too strong— or perhaps too sacred to break. He's not sure what he would say anyway. But, this is his last night with you before you lose him for ten years and he can't let the situation sit like this.

"I'm sorry." He knows it isn't enough, even as he says it.

You stop stirring the pan to look at him. He's got his martyr face on and you know he's only thinking about how this is going to affect you. "I know." It's all you can manage and the silence consumes your night once again.

Things aren't better once you sit down to eat. You spend too long at the table and too little time eating, both of you too absorbed in today's events, the verdict, what the morning will bring. At some point, you give up on trying to eat, throw the food in the fridge, and settle on a liquid dinner. Matt couldn't agree more.

On the sofa, Matt keeps shuffling next to you, restless despite the wine. You would do anything to get the two of you out of your funk at this point, but you know the unfortunate truth is that nothing is going to fix this. So, you sit here, trying to enjoy the fact that you still have his company.

"I'm sorry." It's a barely-there murmur. He knows it's too little too late like it was when he said it an hour ago, but he needs you to know he means it. He can't help but cling to you tighter where your hands are joined together.

You want to argue that despite how hard it was for him to say, despite his obvious sincerity and trepidation, he isn't sorry. You want to tell him that if he was sorry, he would've stopped being Daredevil before it ruined your lives. But none of that is going to make you feel better and it's not going to keep him home with you. "You told me, love."

"I know, I just— I thought I was being smart. I didn't think this would come back on everyone else."

You decide to let comments about everyone telling him time and again that he was being stupid go unsaid. "Would it have stopped you?"

He furrows his brows and leans back, confusion etched into every line on his face. "What kind of question is that? Do you think that I wanted this for us?"

"Of course not, but Matt, your friends did tell you." So much for not saying I told you so. "You're stubborn and thought you knew better than everyone. I wasn't going to bring it up but if this comes as a shock to you, and you want to turn things around later, you need to hear it."