aheroliveshere | [for man_without

He nudges her leg back and flashes her a smile before tucking into his breakfast.

There's a shift in the atmosphere around them, like an unseen cloud thickening the air over them. She lapses into a silence that makes hearing and sensing the signs of inner-conflict not only easy, but impossible to ignore.

The problem with reading the world the way he does is that there isn't always pretense to admit what he knows. Something is bothering her, and he's praying that it isn't regret, but a direct question asking her what it is is hard to voice without a reason.

When her glass is set down empty with still no further conversation he uses that as excuse enough and finally asks, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she answers too quickly.

A moment later her hand flies out and catches his, her grip fierce.

"It's not you. Not -- I mean..." She takes a deep breath and lets it out, her grip on his hand relaxing.

"Little bit at a time, okay? Only -- some parts, they aren't so little."

The action and the strength of her hold on his hand makes him stiffen in sudden alert.

He squeezes her fingers in attempted reassurance.

"Karen, what is it?"

She takes a breath to speak and holds it for a long moment. Standing on the edge of a precipice, looking down into the abyss.

Don't think, just jump.

"Matt, I killed Wesley."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like maybe there's a joke there somewhere and he's missing it but will still smile regardless.

It takes several long moments for her words to sink in, for their meaning to truly register. His head slowly cants and his expression shifts from uncomprehension to disbelief and denial.

"What? What do you mean? How-- when?"

"I shot him."

She can still hear the cold level tones of his voice. Feel the cotton in her mouth. The cold steel in her hand. She has to step out of the memory to tell him the truth, but it takes her a moment. She swallows, tries to find the words.

"After Ben and I found Fisk's mother. He kidnapped me. Drugged me. Thought he could threaten me into retracting everything. I told him I'd rather die."

In her memory a cellphone rings, and her hand is in motion the moment Wesley's eyes drop. That same white hot rage creeps into her voice.

"He said he'd kill Ben. Foggy. You.. And then, when everyone else was dead, he'd come for me."

Bang.

Bang bangbangbang bang.

"I got the gun away from him. He tried to tell me it wasn't loaded." Her hands are shaking now. "So I shot him. And I kept shooting until he was dead."

"Fisk's mother, Karen, what're you-- " he stops himself, wets his lips and holds his tongue, listening to the rest.

There's a heartbeat drumming loud in his ears and it takes him a moment to realize it's his own.

Her words fall like a hammer and the cold feeling steeling down his spine grows colder with every one.

Kidnapped. Drugged. Threats.

She killed Wesley. Shot him. And then...

"What did you do after?" His voice is level, the words deceptively calm.

His heart is still beating too loud and there's so much going on within him. Anger, worry, surprise, fear, shock; that she was in danger and he didn't know, that she did this, had it happen to her and pulled the trigger.

"I got rid of it. I wiped my fingerprints off everything. There's a reason I'm not already in the ground for it, Matt."

She's waiting for him to push away from the table. To walk away again. Which is what she deserves. And even with the specter of losing him looms large, there's a strange weightlessness to having finally said the words out loud.

Her blood pressure dips as her body remembers the emotional shock of what happened. As it prepares for what's about to happen.

He's trying to stay calm, to keep pulling in one slow, even breath after another even though his heart is trip-hammering in his chest and all of his thoughts are a chaotic, jumbled mess in his head as he tries to process what she's telling him.

Filtering through everything to find words to say, the next question to ask is, "Why didn't you call the police?"

Her head comes up and her eyes focus on his face. When she answers, her voice is flat.

"Three guesses. First two don't count."

The last time she was in police custody, she was almost strangled to death in her sleep. It was not an experience she was in a hurry to go through again.

The corners of Matt's mouth tighten and he shakes his head, a bare back and forth movement.

"That isn't a defense, you should've-- " he clips his words off, taking in a slow breath, holding it...

Finally he pushes back from the table, standing up to stride away from her. On the far end of the kitchen he stops, back to her and hands on his hips.

"Karen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened to you. But you have to think, you have to understand, the consequences of what you've done... " Turning around to face her it's there in his expression, apology, and worry, and frustration. "You should have told somebody. You should have told me."

Her hands feel like ice, and in her chest, a white hot burst of rage steals her breath.

She takes a long, slow, deep breath. Holds it. Lets it out again. Today is different than yesterday.

"I just did."

He misses the cues that she's angry, that he's focused on the wrong part of the situation, because right now all he can think about is what happens if someone finds out. If this comes back to her.

"Karen, this was clear self-defense. Your life was in danger, but now you've tampered with evidence, fled the scene and kept it a secret this long. You know how that looks."

And then there's the other side of it, the side that's scarier than repercussions of the law.

"This also involves Fisk, what if he'd found out? If he had come for you I wouldn't have known, I couldn't have protected you." That thought trumps all others. If Fisk had hurt her...

"You don't know what a true monster he is."

Her eyebrows float higher and her chin lifts, as if he'd just bestowed some great gift of knowledge upon her.

"Oh, I don't know. After I woke up in a pool of someone else's own blood in my apartment. After I was almost killed while in police custody. After his right hand man drugged, kidnapped, and threatened me with the destruction of all I hold dear. I clearly must have missed the memo."

She crumples up her napkin and tosses it down on her plate, pushing her chair back and grabbing her coffee mug. This is going to require more caffeine.

"Because it's all about you," she mutters under her breath. "And the part where you didn't know and you didn't protect me. And yet, here I am. Still alive. Still breathing."

His expression shifts, becoming stonier, and his head turns, tracking her as she moves through the kitchen.

"This isn't about me it's about you. Everything you just said is all the more reason you should have told somebody."

He starts to move, not quite pacing, but the agitation won't let him just stay still. He moves around the table, gathering breakfast dishes and taking them to the sink.

"You're lucky to be alive and breathing," he mutters himself, not bothering to drop his voice.

She's quiet, sipping her coffee, trying to make her hands stop shaking. Trying to find her way back to the reason she even told him this.

"Matt, I killed a man."

Standing at the sink he isn't facing her. His hands stop their action and his eyes close. He pulls in one slow breath, two...

"You didn't have a choice." He has to believe that. It has to be true.

His words and his actions catch up to him, and he realizes nothing he's said has been what she's needed to hear.

His eyes open and he turns to face her, moving closer to where she's standing. He reaches out a hand to touch her shoulder, tentative.

"Karen. I'm sorry, I don't-- Jesus." How could this have happened? What was it like for her keeping this a secret for this long?

And now she's sharing it with him. That part, really the most important out of everything, is starting to sink in now.

She sets her coffee aside as he turns and by the time he's reaching for her, she's reaching for him. She falls into him, wrapping her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest. Her breath hitches as tears threaten, and she bites back a dry laugh.

"Yeah, don't bring him into this. He's been no help at all."

She knows she did what she had to do. If she had to do it all again, she wouldn't have hesitated. He threatened everything she loved. He threatened this. Her grip on him tightens and she bites back another quiet sob. What else was she supposed to have done?

The hesitance evaporates when she falls into him and he puts his arms around her and holds her tight.

"I'm sorry, Karen," he repeats, enveloping her in his embrace. "I should've-- " he stops himself there, because she's right, this isn't about him.

Bowing his head and pressing his cheek against her temple he tells her again, softly, "You didn't have a choice."

In the situation she was in, with the type of person who was there with her, there's nothing else she could have done. Wesley would have killed her, or Wilson Fisk would have if he'd shown up at any point. The thought makes Matt's heart clench and he holds her even tighter.

"I'm just glad that you're okay, that you're safe now."

She nods, unable to speak through her tears, nods again more emphatically. Yes, she had no choice. And she's okay. She's okay. She's okay. It's the only thought that's gotten her through some really long nights since she pulled that trigger.

She clings to him, and maybe her knees give out, maybe he has to help her to a chair. She doesn't know. All she knows is he's here and he knows the truth now. He knows what kind of monster she is, knows what she's truly capable of.

And he hasn't left her yet. It's a small something, and she holds onto it with all her will.

He doesn't say another word. He holds onto her and carries her to the living room. Settling on a chair he keeps his hold on her strong and sure as she clings to him.

His palm begins a slow up and down over her back and all he wants to do now is be a presence for her. To let her know he's here, that he knows now, and he isn't going anywhere or letting anything else happen to her.

She's safe now. She's safe.

She weeps for a long time, the stress working itself out of her system in fits and starts. She remembered reading somewhere that the human body processes its traumas in the right place and at the right time, when you're safe and able to break down without fear.

That was here and now, apparently. She muttered a few quiet apologies under her breath, wiping her nose on her robe a few times. Eventually, she exhales one long, shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your Saturday."

He denied the need for an apology each time, giving soft reassurances while she cried herself out.

Carding his fingers through her hair he shakes his head.

"No, I'm right where I should be." He did want to be here, for her.

She wraps her arms around his neck and draws his head down to hers, resting her brow against his temple. She places a reverent kiss to his cheek. Her voice is still thick in her mouth, and she's still sniffling a little.

"Thank you. For just -- listening."

"I'm glad you told me."

As rough as it had been he's grateful she opened up to him in such a way. He had no idea, and now maybe he can help her. The weight of this must have been enormous, and he's glad that now she's not alone in this anymore.

[for man_without_fear]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject