thecapitol | you say you want a revelation; (CLOSED)

Who| Natasha and Matt Murdock.
What| Sorry for dying on you, best buds for life still??
Where| District 8 floor.
When| Week 4, after Matt kicks the bucket in the Arena. AKA hella backdated sorry.
Warnings/Notes| Matt Murdock.

[ Futile gestures were beneath her, but even in the throes of desperation she found herself making them. Mistakes she'll have to live with, but when it came to Matt Murdock there were a number of imperfections they've managed to work through so far. What's a few more? Still, she should have known better to make promises she's not sure she could have kept (but here she was), especially promises that were drenched with romantic intent. It must have been the poison that tainted her mind, but since when was she so feeble in thought that she fell for the enticing words of falsehoods?

Much less spoke them herself?

While disappointment fills her mind in the days she's alive back in the Capitol, she doesn't linger on it for long. Distractions during the day were all too easy to come by with the Arena on air and social engagements in-between. Flitting between one thing to the next, Natasha hardly fell out of line of her role save for the end of the day when she returns to Matt's room instead of her own.

In all honesty, she thought he would show up the next day. Not out of hope, but knowing just how much he breaks down after losing someone like that. Now that it's been a few days, she's grown more concerned, but there's not many updates on him on the big screen. Why would there be? He's not a killer and without blood, there are no views. It drives her mad, but not any more than he must be with her blood soaked into his clothing. Of all the cruel acts she could inflict on him, it had to be that. Unintentional, but still it would be a mistake she would carry for the rest of her life.

These are the thoughts on her mind when she leaves his room in the middle of the night to take to the common area, unable to fall asleep. As futile as it was to stay awake, it was along the same lines to stay inside a man's room waiting for them to bring his body back. She might have better luck if she waits outside or so she would have liked to believe in-between nodding off on the couch. Unlike her companions, she didn't have super strength or stamina, nor anything to help keep her going in the earliest of mornings.

When the few others in the suite begin to stir, she returns to the tiny room with low expectations in the same trivial way as the day before. ]

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[He's disoriented when he wakes up, head a mess, senses out of whack, and before he can even right himself he's sent from his pod and back to the eighth floor suites. It's a completely unwelcoming welcome, but it's more than he could've hoped for from those people.

The last few weeks are a haze at first before memories slowly trickle back in. The sensations come back a moment later, but by that time the elevator is already dropping him off at his destination. Muscle memory kicks in as he heads toward the door he knows is supposed to be his, ignoring the waking suite mates as he approaches.

That's when he smells her and his heart just about stops. He stays at the door, hand on the doorknob, waiting for the silent, invisible moment of permission to tell him it's okay to enter his own damn room. Truth be told, he's listening to her through the door. Part of him doesn't want to disturb her. Part of him would give anything to collapse into her arms and sob.

He opts for middle ground as he slowly turns the knob.]

You're up early.

Some days are just like that. [ A casual retort as if this was an everyday normal conversation.

It isn't.

He's back from the dead faced with a woman he felt die in his arms and she knows it. Bile creeps up into the back of her throat as her heart races, anxiety starting to take hold of her. Any second now they could turn this into a conversation worth regretting, a moment of weakness they'll have to carry with them for the rest of their lives. Fear for his well being is what causes her to let go of those thoughts and soon the pit of despair she feels in her gut travels upwards until they're butterflies fluttering around. ]

You're alive. [ Relief fills her tone now and she's quick to rise to her feet, to greet him at the door. This is no way a happy reunion, but she can't stop it from becoming one. ] Not that you should be, not that any of us should be.

[ With no proper counseling, there's no telling how unhinged the other Arena losers might be. For a brief moment, she wonders the same of him. ]

[All he wants to do is fall to his knees before her, collapse like he's consumed by grief or the need to pray. There's something almost sacred in this reunion, and he wonders momentarily if Natasha senses that too. If he didn't have delusions of a messiah complex before, this place sure as hell wasn't going to help him any.

He manages to stay on his feet somehow, crossing the room in as controlled a measure as he can muster. Giving in would be so easy. Losing himself right now is all he wants to do. But there's so much more to this world. He has to keep his senses about him, and more importantly so does she. This place isn't like home. There's no magic or ninjas to save them. Faith will do no good. They only have themselves and each other and distractions need to be minimized.]

I wasn't about to leave you in this mess all by yourself, kid. [Finally he sinks down beside her. Close enough, but not too close. Restraint is still a necessity in his mind.] I'm not about to leave you behind.

[ The spot is perfect. Close enough that she can lower her voice if need be, but far enough away that she didn't feel smothered. Matt always knew how to respect her despite their differences and that's what made her heart flutter. Around him she was a lady instead of a killer or a kid for now. ]

Cute. [ With a very childlike snort following it. ] Don't think you get to call me kid, champ. Aren't you a few decades too late for that?

[ In her teasing she lets her relief slip as her hand fills the space between them, resting on the bed near him. An invitation to take it if he needs, but she won't force physical affection on him. ]

They televised it all.

This is where you ask me to refrain from taking out the trash, to keep from making things personal.

[In spite of everything, he finds that he's smiling as he settles in next to Natasha. How natural it seems, to fall into this meaningful silence beside her. How natural it seems to turn to her and urge her to go on.]

Make it as personal as you want it to be. I want to know everything that happened. I want to know what you saw.

[There's an eager edge to his voice that he's not exactly proud of, but he doesn't quite care enough to swallow it down.]

You saw the guys who killed me. Who were they?

[ Now that is information she'll keep to herself. Whole she knows deep down it'll never amount to the pain he endured to hold her dying body close to his form, it was enough to twist the knife of guilt a little deeper in her gut. A phantom wound that seems to nag at her more now after it has healed, Natasha swallows the bile down to give him what he really needs to hear. ]

Jet Link of District 2. [ Her fingers move slowly over the sheets for his own. ] Albert Heinrech of District 3.

[ Picturing it all in her mind again, she considers telling him fanciful lies of how he valiantly stood his ground and how incredible a sight it was. That he was every bit the man she loved and the friend she trusted. Something desperate creeps into her own actions as she tries to hold onto his hand to still the shakiness that plagues her body. ]

They will get what they deserve soon enough. [ Knowing he can't avenge his own death, she makes the silent promise that she will in his stead. ]

[He'll cling to those names, savor them for later, knowing that he'll seek both of them out later, whether it's for revenge or for something else.

He reaches for her hand, not for any real romantic reason, but just to hold it. To kiss it, gently. To know that she's tangible and real and in spite of everything, she's still right there. He kisses the back of her hand twice more, for good measure.]

They were only playing the game. They only meant to win. It's personal for us, but I'd doubt it if it were for them. They don't even know me.

[ It's easy to know the intent behind his actions, but sometimes the mind is capable of being tricked. Having always kept a good head on her shoulders meant she ought to not fall victim to these things, but this world leaves her feeling so uncertain of everything. Coming back from the dead is taking a toll on the both of them, him more than her.

At least that's what she tells herself. Natasha's a bit too old for these things and the heart is wise enough to keep her from succumbing to childish fears. Her fingers squeeze his own briefly, to reiterate that she's every bit real as she was days ago. ]

We can change that, Matthew. [ Maybe she can't rid herself of the petty toxin that plagues her mind entirely, but she has to take his death personally. Whether it's her own failure cemented above the foundation of neglect, in the end she wasn't there to save him.

And saving him is one of the things she's sworn not to do, yet she makes an attempt at it every so often. Here is no different for her. ]

I don't need revenge.

[Is that the truth though? Because back in the Arena, he'd had his heart set on it. He and Bucky would've killed anyone who tried to stand between them and revenge for Natasha. That was different though. It meant something there. Here it doesn't make any difference.]

Those men aren't the enemy. They don't want to be here anymore than you or I do. Can't you see?

you say you want a revelation; (CLOSED)

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