He gave her arm, the one he was holding onto, a gentle but firm squeeze as she explained the dreams to him. It made sense. Times of loss, of pain. Of fear. Of course Fisk was tied into it too, as he inevitably seemed to be in the lives of everyone Matt loved. "Just the first time?" he asked quietly, ready to take whatever answer she needed to give. He couldn't help but ask, though. "I'm sorry, Kate," he added, just as softly. "If I could just give you good dreams I would. God knows you deserve it." She was such a kind and wonderful person who deserved the world as it should be, not as it now was. He couldn't take away what had happened, but he could at least not let her be alone when she was awake to face it all.
"An evil witch, yeah," Matt said ruefully. "I think it was during my peak childhood Disney phase. I've since learned witches can be good." He still remembered that sense of terror though, that looming anxiety that something was wrong from the inside of his sanctuary and that it was his job to make it right. It wasn't even a dramatic moment like the Battle of New York for him that had started those first dreams. Just living in Hell's Kitchen day in and out had somehow caused it. His father fading though had definitely come in the wake of his father's passing, then recurred each time Matt lost another piece of his father to faulty memory. It wasn't a dream he had often these days, so many years had passed since he'd lost that grip on his father's real face, voice, and scent.
Now though, sometimes, it was replaced with Foggy.
"I might have given a speech or two when in my boxer shorts in the college dorm room, does that count?" he joked. "Never done one in my birthday suit. And I did no such thing. If my mouth was open I'd be tasting dog slobber in it, right?"
He let his fingers lightly drum on the table, asking hopefully, "Can I help? I can pour things into a pot. Or onto a baking sheet." For the pizza rolls. "You've done so much already... and I like to help." Those simple words so true, from when he was a child fighting a dream evil witch to now in a kitchen filling up a baking sheet.
Distracted as she was as she moved around the kitchen, Matt's words, his touch, brought things to a pause. It was a break even from her own feelings, that claustrophobic sensation that remained crawling under her skin whenever she woke up from those dreams. It sometimes awakened when Kate thoughts of those dreams. But Matt? His loving words were enough to pull her from that edge, from crossing that line where all these unpleasant things would catch up on Kate.
"You're helping me have a better sleep," she said softly, but loud enough for him to hear clearly. "You make this city a better place, Matt." She truly believed that. What they stood for. What they sacrificed. Where he would lead them.
"Glad you got over your prejudices," she joked as she went to the fridge, getting out the box of pizza rolls. Joke or not, hopefully that which had haunted him in his dreams had changed these days too. Matt faced so many hardships on his every day life, every night, that the least he deserved was pleasant dreams. A little escape.
It was so unfair, knowing that people like Fisk slept peacefully at night. Kate so hoped she was wrong about that.
"It's close enough for me to take it," Kate laughed, gently pushing Lucky away from the counter as he tried to sniff around for treats. "And are you sure you can't taste dog slobber?"
Ready to get the water to boil, Matt's request changed her plans. For a second, Kate looked around, still feeling a little lost in her mom's roomy kitchen. "Oh! Right! Give me a second. Hummmm..." Matt sure heard her opening cabinets, walking past him and returning, the clicking of Lucky's claws on the floor letting him know the dog followed her every step. "Here! Okay, baking sheet. Here." Placing it before him along with some parchment paper, she guided his hand to the box of pizza rolls. "It's so much easier to find stuff in a kitchen when you only own one set of cutlery." And by that, she means the days back when she only owned one fork, two knives and a spoon.
That was what he wanted. To bring Kate, to bring everyone, a restful sleep. To ensure they lived in a city that made them feel protected and safe, eager to live and easy to thrive. He wanted to make the city better by ensuring people could live by their better angels without fear of the many demons. Sometimes, many times, that meant fighting with his fists. Not always, though. Sometimes it was pushing an old man away from a moving truck, or arguing in court for another chance. It was buying a stranger a sandwich and it was forgiving someone who needed to hear it. He tried to be all those things at once, and he knew he failed some of the time. Still. Hearing Kate now reminded him that it mattered to try, and to keep trying until he succeeded.
"Oh, you know me. Big on redemption," he joked on not holding onto grudges for the wicked witches. His childhood mind had taken larger enemies and dressed them in Disney clothing, but it was still far easier to make jokes now than dig any deeper. He'd started the teasing, after all. He'd expected Kate to follow him on that trail. "Ever met a real witch? I wouldn't be surprised if they existed now, knowing what I do." With people and powers.
"I taste nothing, maybe what Lucky and I have is chaste and pure," Matt joked, then set himself to cutting and setting down the aluminum foil on the baking dish, and spreading out a handful of the pizza rolls. He tried to run his fingers over the container to see if they were pepperoni or not, but he couldn't read the print. A touch sadly, but rallying, he decided it would be fun to be surprised. "Yeah, but if you only own one set, you can't host a dinner party," he told her with a smile. "We can host one together if you ever want, I can show you how much fun they are. Though your real friends won't care if your glasses all match. I cooked my first one in our college dorm kitchen, everyone had a ton of fun, and paper plates were used."
"Well, Clint did mention that they had a witch in the Avengers team once it expanded from the Big Six." Not every hero was big on the marketing team the goverment set up, and so her name was mainly lost and kept from the public. On their late talks, her mentor had really opened up her eyes about the nuances of being an Avenger. Or working with them. The terrible wages.
She couldn't help idealizing the title, still.
At the mention of tasteless dog spit Kate made choking and puking sounds that for Matt would be impossible to miss. Even Lucky pricked up his ears, turning to look at her as if he had been personally offended. Maybe he was.
"Wait, even back then you cooked?" It made sense. A lot of people found pleasure in that from a young age. "What did you serve?" She asked, finally putting the pot on the stove and tapping the buttons to heat it up.
"Huh." Matt said it in mild curiosity. He'd never heard much about a witch, but then again, he absolutely never cared to keep up with the Avengers. "You know, I wondered a few times if what I could do was magic. I know now it isn't, but when you're a kid..." At first he'd seen it as a curse. Then when Stick arrived, it was a weapon. In between that and becoming an adult, he'd had some years to be fanciful at moments. "I know, Catholics, we don't believe in magic. Or more precisely, we shouldn't confuse religious miracles for them." A distinction he'd talked to Lantom a lot about, as the world came to have so many unimaginable things. "At the end of the day, my gifts felt religious rather than magical, but you know... there was a moment where I thought I might be a wizard."
Ruffling Lucky's head, Matt shook his and protested, "I meant that it was chaste and pure because there wasn't any dog spit to taste! Stop making this ugly, Kate. Lucky's my buddy." Lucky wagged his tail as he chewed on his toy, just happy to be included.
So much his buddy that it was fine to move the pizza rolls with a hand that had touched the dog, right? It wasn't like a regular mouth could taste that. Matt moved each piece apart so that they would bake evenly.
"Oh, I cooked from the time I was a kid." Matt smiled at the memory, moving the tray over a little to show he was done. "My dad was a single parent, you know? He worked a lot with training and fights. He had the neighbor look in on me but I was left alone a lot, and I felt bad that he'd come home so late without anything to eat. So I started making things. Just sandwiches at first, or mac 'n cheese. Pizza rolls. But I found I liked it. We couldn't afford much so it wasn't elaborate, but he'd buy things for me to try and make. And then every so often he'd just take me out for dinner at midnight.
That night at Columbia I made flatbread pizza and Caesar salad, but it all started with bologna and cheese sandwiches waiting for my dad. And me asleep at the kitchen table just waiting to hear about his fight."
She watched him for a moment, opening the packet of noodles even though they still had time before the water was boiling and ready. "And what makes you think that what you do isn't magic? I mean, it's relative, isn't it?" Was she messing with him? Kate did sound serious, at the very least. "A lot of daily things are magic. And I can't explain the things you can do." Normally, anyway. His powers would return soon, though.
Sure, maybe a doctor would give her an earful, but logic had never stopped Kate before. "Matt the Wizard," she tried, figuring how it rolled off her tongue. "Magical Matthew. Mystical Murdock."
It kinda made sense.
A Matt defended the chastity of his relationship with the retriever, Kate offered a distracted 'uh-huh' that proved she wasn't buying it. Still, as she walked behind him, she didn't waste her chance to poke Matt in a spot she knew he'd find ticklish. Was it that bad without his powers?
Coming back with a couple of ramen bowls for the noodles, complete with a little hole for the chopsticks, she placed them down on the counter and moved to the oven to pre-heat it.
"Dinner at midnight? That sounds fun." Specially for a kid that spent the day by himself. Kate knew what it was like to grow with a single parent. Well, partially. She was never unsupervised, though.
"Fuck, Matt..." That last thing about him falling asleep on the table, waiting for a hardworking dad who's literally come home injured to be able to afford the meals his son was learning to cook by himself. It broke her heart right there. "... I kinda wish I could travel in time to give the little you a hug."
Matt smiled at her insistence. It was sweet, and he was fine to play along with it. "Maybe. It's relative, yeah. Where mysticism and religion and magic meet. Whatever one calls it, what matters is the meaning derived, I think." Ultimately, as much as Matt enjoyed tales of magic when young, his religious calling fulfilled him more. He wouldn't underplay though that to someone else what he did might be magic, and if they saw it as that, if they needed to believe... there wasn't anything wrong with it. Belief, faith, hope, what drove someone to stand tall and live right, that was what mattered in the end. "For me religion meant more, but if someone else wakes up and can hear calls for help and thinks it's magic? I'd just want to steer them right and support them how they needed. Hell, you hear calls and you don't even have what I do, if anything is magic that is." Kate bled for people that she sought out rather than those who she couldn't avoid. Wasn't that even more impressive? More awe-inspiring?
Then she tickled him and he eeped, shooting daggers like he might the devil.
"HA - hey, no, nope, none of that." He moved around the counter, hands on the edge, eyes playfully narrowed. "I'm gonna remember that, Bishop. For when you least expect it." He did hate to be tickled. Not in an upsetting way, he wasn't genuinely upset, but it made his skin crawl.
"Yeah, dinners at midnight. Think I told you about those." He wouldn't wax poetic about old tales. His smile softened though at her tone. She sounded... maybe sad for him? It was hard to tell right now. In case she was he was quick to reassure, "Hey no, it was a good memory. I know what my dad and I had wasn't conventional..." a kid stitching up his dad probably wasn't the norm, "but... we were partners? A team. It was a good memory, Kate." Until it wasn't. "He was a great dad, and I couldn't have been more lucky."
She could listen to him for hours. Because as self-conscious as he could be at times, aware that he had been possessed by a deep need to rant about the things he was passionate about, Kate always thought there was something beautiful about it. Even when Matt slipped into his most lawyery mode.
Because she'd always had a soft spot for people who were truly inspiring. Just like Clint and how he had shaped her up, becoming a role model she had idolized for years, a mentor now, there was something about Matt that truly inspired to wanting to be a better person. Perhaps... What she truly wanted to be was someone that matched how highly he spoke of her at times.
"Do you still think this is something God gave you?" She remembered that he'd mention that those were his beliefs, a long time ago. Of course, remembering that right now those powers were not quite working...
Well, Kate regretted her question.
She definitely did not regret the tickles attack, shamelessly laughing at the look Matt shot her way. "Come at me, Murdock," she challenged him, well aware that she would surely blame herself for this in the near future.
As Matt explained, she started to think that the story did sound familiar. They talked about so many things that maybe not everything stuck as it should. She was glad to hear that Matt had such good memories, even though she knew that his childhood must have been tough. "He did sound pretty amazing. You think there's videos online of him fighting? I would love to see that."
There was a stricken look on Matt's face at her question. Not accusing, and he tried to hide it fast, but a momentary expression of grief and worry couldn't help but cross his face. It was the same struggle he'd had in the past, one that he'd never fully put to rest. Was this a gift from God? A calling? A beautiful thread in a larger holy tapestry? Or was he just an angry, unhinged man wanting to have meaning where there was nothing but menace?
"I don't know." His voice was soft, yet old, as though this wasn't a question he was just asking now that his powers were gone.
His gaze fell, not from her, he couldn't see her. His body folded inward, making itself smaller, until he rallied. Murdocks didn't fall though, even when religion failed. He squared his shoulders, raised his head, and tried to smile.
"I'm biding my time," he warned her with the tickling, for now getting caught in playing tug of war with Lucky and his new toy.
"He was amazing." Matt didn't sound doubtful on that. "Yeah, we'd go out for pancakes at shitty diners every so often. I'd fall asleep at school the next day but he'd cover for me. And the nights in between, I made dinner for him and patched him up." He didn't add that his dad had given him a nip of whiskey to control his hands when patching, but the spirit of the loyalty was there. You couldn't separate Matt from his dad when one spoke of the Murdocks back then. He'd spent endless hours studying at the gym, it was just the fights his dad had kept Matt away from. Too many gang members and the mob. His dad tried to keep him safe.
Matt gave Kate a soft smile. "I doubt it. My dad... he didn't win a lot of fights. He wasn't a big name." The locals loved him because he wouldn't stay down even then, he was a bruiser and a battler. He embodied the working class spirit who could take a hit and go to the last round. He didn't often win, though. He wasn't someone who made a lot of publicity. Locals liked him though because he put up one hell of a fight. Until he started throwing matches to afford his son. God, what an asshole he'd been to put that on his dad. To demand moral purity when Jack was in debt. Yet... didn't Matt do that with everyone? Demand the highest standards, no matter the personal cost? Didn't he ask everyone to be a hero?
Unlike Matt, Kate wasn't a huge believer. She had an open mind, one that hoped that there was something out there. Someone that she had once or twice called for help in desperate times. Recently, Kate found herself whispering a call for help the night before she and Clint tried to stop Fisk during the Christmas ball. These days, when Matt was shot. Even though she never put a name on who she hoped might listen to her poor attempt of something closer to a prayer, she still reached out.
Aliens had been a mystery not long ago. Asgardian Gods had been a myth. If anything, Kate liked to keep an open mind, a hope to be pleasantly surprised by life and its mysteries. But then, if God had truly given Matt his powers... Did that mean he had also taken them away?
She said nothing, watching as Matt pulled on that poor capybara as Lucky bit down on it harder and fought to snatch it off his hand.
"You learned to look after your loved ones since you were a kid," Kate noted. It was part of Matt's nature, there was no question about it. Had he also inherited his protectiveness from his dad. Maybe from his mom too. After all, Kate had witnessed how Sister -- God, she couldn't remember her name. But Matt's mom had attempted to get into the orphanage as it burned to help those kids.
Just like Matt did at the police station.
"Maybe there's an article on him or something like that. Like, a community piece or something. It's worth checking around." Maybe she just selfishly wanted to put a face on a man that was so important in Matt's life. Did he look like him? It'd be nice, telling him that. Describing what he had no way of knowing.
"My dad?" Grabbing the baking sheet of pizza rolls Matt had prepared, Kate slid it in the oven now. "Yeah, there's a few videos of him. Family stuff, mostly. Holidays, birthdays. Some of my competitions. Mom was always good at keeping stuff for the memory value." It was no wonder that even after all these years, she still kept even her dad's clothes. And in perfect condition.
Lucky gave playful little growls as he tugged at his toy, shaking his head and trying to wrest it away from Matt. It was a game of tug of war and though Matt let the dog win in the end, he still let the canine earn it. When he finally let Go Lucky hopped a little as if doing his own version of a victory dance before darting away with his prize.
"Yeah, I guess I did," Matt admitted on learning how to look after his loved ones. "We learn from what's around us, right?" He certainly had. There had been some lessons in what not to do in Hell's Kitchen, but he'd also experienced a community that looked after one another, too. The seedy underbelly couldn't completely take away the good parts.
"There were a few articles. Not many, but a few." Including not just some boxing matches, but also the story of Matt losing his sight to save a man from a truck, and about the night Jack was murdered. He'd kept a few in his old trunk that had burned, along with his dad's gloves. "You might be able to find them if you wanted, but none are that in depth or extensive." At the end of the day to most, Jack Murdock had just been a local boxer, one of the city's many losses.
"Maybe you could play one sometime, so I could hear what he sounded like." He could imagine the man from Kate, but it was different than hearing the real voice.
Picking one of the packets of noodles and opening the first one, Kate pulled out the plastig bag that contained the mixture of chili and soy sauce. Soon, she was dunking the brick of a pale yellow, dry noodles in the boiling water.
"You learned to fight for what's right," she murmured, coming to Matt's side and leaning next to him with her back against the counter. "To always stand up again," she almost seemed to recite the motto she was learned from Matt, warmth in her tone. Kate would always be in awe of his tenacity. "And to look after people." She was probably missing so many things. But she liked to think she had learned a few about Jack Murdock through his son.
"It's worth checking it out," Kate insisted. Even reading a couple of short paragraphs. Hopefully, if she was lucky, they'd come with a photo. "Have you thought about that thing we discussed once?" She suddenly asked, her tone shifting into something far more curious now. "About printing your dad's or Foggy's picture in 3D?"
It wouldn't be too expensive anyway, if that was what worried Matt.
"... I might have something in the Cloud me and mom shared."
"I did." Even Matt without powers could smell the seasoned umami of the broth once the packet was added. "I was fortunate to have good role models." Plus one role model who dipped out before he became a worse one, maybe. He reached out to feel along the counter until he reached her, then gave her arm a little bump. "It sounds like you did too, from what you've said about your dad. That he lived life to the fullest, wasn't afraid to take some risks, and that he loved his family more than anything." That, too, sounded a lot like Kate.
He held his hands up in surrender then as she insisted in hunting down articles on Jack. "For be it for me to think I could dissuade you," he teased her with affection. Dropping his hands he added, "And I thought about it, but I dunno... would it be weird to have just two head busts in a room? I know museums have them, but you don't really find them in apartments."
The way Matt turned the subject towards her shouldn't have surprised Kate. He often did that, turning around a question, wanting to learn more about others. Of course, he never shied away from giving a compliment.
In this case, one that truly reached Kate's heart. "Yeah, maybe." She was obviously touched, leaning against him and bumping him back. "Mom always said that Dad drove her insane sometimes. He would go away a few days for a business trip and come back a day later after a detour to go rock climbing or to try some incredible zip line or go swimming with sharks." She still remembered how excited her dad had been. He had brought her the biggest shark plushie and spent hours showing her videos and talking about the adventure. "Maybe I did inherit that from him. Driving mom nuts."
As Matt gave up, Kate snorted, but was clearly proud of herself. "Well, they don't need to be busts. For what I've seen they also do these reliefs, like a 3D painting?" Which, to most people might still be weird. "You don't have to keep them on display, you can always get them out of a box when you need to see them." She remembered how he kept his dad's boxing gloves and Stick's batons in some chest.
What had happened with all that? It was probably gone with Matt's apartment. Kate didn't dare to ask.
"Besides, fuck it, you have a devil costume at home. I have trick arrows. Some people have fetish stuff in their closet. Who cares? It's nobody else's business."
"It sounds like inherited both driving your mom insane and a love of adventure from him. I suspect a part of your mom does also admire it, even if she wishes you were safe. I can see the impromptu personal trips during a business one being annoying, though." Matt entirely understood people in a relationship needing time and activities on their own, but routinely extending business trips to zipline when there was a child at home to look after would probably make him grumble a little too unless it was already pre-arranged that was what he always did.
"A 3D painting might be a little less weird," Matt admitted with a small nod. "And no, I shouldn't care what people think, except..." he hesitated, then added, "Well, Foggy thought it was weird. When I touched his face that one time. He let me do it, but he wasn't comfortable with me doing it again. I don't know if this crosses a line, since it is his face but also not." Matt genuinely didn't know what the right thing to do in that instance was. "My dad never cared, but well. Do you think it's invasive to do it in Foggy's case?"
"Yeah, when I was a kid I heard them fight many times. I always thought mom was being mean to dad. You know, making a big deal about nothing. Stopping his fun." But that had been a world seen though the lenses of a child. "Now I get it. Dad was doing stupid and dangerous things." But, what was worse. "Business with dangeorus people." With Wilson Fisk of all people.
Derek Bishop was not the perfect father she idealized her whole life.
As Matt shared his fears, Kate carefully considered them. She understood that he had a point. "I don't know, it's -- I think it's different." Is it? "There's something intimate about touching another person's face." She couldn't help it, turning to look at him, remembering the moment they had shared earlier in the sofa. Matt didn't have to, but he had caressed her face too. Telling Kate he would protect her with his life.
Intimacy... Can be platonic too, right?
"But, I don't know. People have pictures and videos to remember him. You don't. And you're his best friend." It was unfair that all Matt had waws words in Braille and the sounds of Foggy's voice. "I think he'd understand."
Matt nodded in understanding. "My dad fell in with the mob," he admitted. "He started working for them, taking money to throw fights." It had been a very disillusioning moment when Matt had realized what his father was doing. He'd tried desperately to convince his dad to mend his ways, then carried the guilt afterwards of Jack taking him up on that and dying for it. "It's always hard when you realize your parents aren't perfect, and some are certainly less perfect than others." Still, he imagined it was a moment that most people had in their lives.
His touching Foggy had certainly been platonic, but Matt understood why it was still a bit too close and personal for the man's taste. Especially back then men touching one another like that wasn't common, even with Matt and Foggy hugging and hanging around one another's shoulders was common. Would Foggy be more understanding now? Maybe. It wasn't really his friend's face, even if it was. "I guess... I don't know. We can have it made. After that I can decide if it's okay to keep or maybe give to his mom if it doesn't feel right. Just tell me how much I owe you for it."
Kate had heard many things about Jack Murdock, with Matt mentioning that he had some shortcomings even though he was a fabulous dad. But Kate had never ever imagined that he might have commited the same mistake her own father did. Both had lost their lives for different reasons, but Derek had gambled with his family's destiny.
Matt had a point, though. Most people probably had a hard time realizing their parents weren't great. "Yeah. Now I understand my mom a little better, at least. She had to make some really hard choices. Even if she fucked up massively."
She rested her head on his shoulder, finding a strange comfort in feeling like she and Matt almost shared something in this experience.
"Yeah, that doesn't sound too bad. And if you ever needed to touch his face again, you could visit his family and do it." Would it be weird for Foggy's parents? No, they would probably understand why something like that would be special to Matt. "Hey, if you could afford to get me a squishy dumpling, I can afford this for you."
She needed a photo of Matt's dad, though. Kate wanted him to remember what his dad's face was like.
Matt gave a little nod as Kate spoke about her mother. Their fathers had been alike in making the mistake of going into business with the wrong people, but as far as Matt knew, Kate's dad had never killed anyone and Jack Murdock certainly hadn't. Eleanor's fanaticism to protect her family felt more closely aligned in Matt's mind to Stick, who would do anything to uphold the values of the Chaste. Stick hadn't truly raised Matt though, so it wasn't as similar a dynamic as a mother would have been. "Your mother is certainly an... interesting woman. Have you spoken to her recently?" He wondered if she'd broached the subject of helping out to Kate.
A street vendor's toy and a printed painting Matt knew weren't equal in price by any means, but he also knew that Kat was in a position to not have to put a price tag on such things. Money meant something different to her, and if he was spending a day in her world, he should accept that. He lightly leaned his head against hers, instinctively inhaling to see if he could breath in her scent the way he normally would just smell her. "Okay, okay. I'll let it go. This time." A beat. "You're a very kind person, Kate." His hand found hers and gave it a little squeeze.
Interesting indeed. Since Mother's Day, Cherry had pulled some strings to help Eleanor find a safehouse. Although, Kate was not aware of the means Eleanor had used to afford it, neither did she know many details of where her mom was staying.
At Matt's question, Kate became a little silent, turning to stir the noddles as she stepped away from him briefly. "Just, mostly small talk. Checking on her. I've kinda... Ignored her last messages." Things had been busy, Kate had too much to worry about. Focusing on the city, on their task, that was much easier than working on unresolved feelings and unfinished conversations.
She returned to Matt's side, not able to ignore how he had called Eleanor 'interesting'. She knew that tone. "Did my mom say anything wrong to you when you talked in the kitchen?" Kate had not dared to bring it up before, but now she definitely needed to know.
As Matt leaned towards her and took her hand, Kate was only mildly surprised. Briefly. She smiled, leaning closer to his side and resting her cheek on his shoulder.
"It's nothing," she argued, even though her voice was soft like velvet. "It's easy to be kind to you."
There wasn't any judgement on Matt's face when Kate said she was ignoring her mother's messages. God knew he'd ducked calls from loved ones in the past when he felt overwhelmed and didn't know what to say. At Kate's question, Matt gave it careful consideration. He'd only be honest with Kate when it came to Eleanor, but he was weighing his own perspective against his own biases. "I don't know that I'd use the word wrong," Matt finally said slowly as he leaned against the counter. "She just... I don't know. It's like when I talk to Frank, or when I used to talk to Stick. There's one thing that matters the most to them in the world. Their driving mission. And for Eleanor, that's you. I don't know what that means. It can be a good thing." It could also be a worrisome thing. "I don't know her enough to know, especially considering all she's gone through. Maybe it won't mean what it once did." Murder. "Anyway. She wanted to help. With all of this. The fight against Fisk. I think she wants to help you. I told her that she'd have to talk to you about that, it wasn't up to me to give the okay for her to join our fight."
Was that what Eleanor was leaving messages about? Maybe.
"And it's not nothing. Not to me." Gestures from Kate never meant nothing to him. They were always held close to his heart. He leaned his head back against hers. "I'm gonna remind you that it's easier to be kind to me the next time you're grumpy too early in the morning."
It startles Kate a little. Because even though she was expecting Matt to be as objective as possible when talking about her mom, she never though his words would ever confuse her. But it really catches her completely by susprise. Did he actually compare Eleanor Bishop to Frank Castle and his old mentor?
Aren't those men completely ruthless? Murderers...
It makes her heart sink, as little by little she starts understanding what Matt means.
Almost. "How could she possibly help?" Kate shakes her head instantly. "That would be stupid. I mean, she's on the run right now." She waved her hand around, almost as if she was physically searching or answers. "We're being freaking careful about everything we spend money on and what's she gonna do? Use our money to let the cops know where she is and Fisk realize we suddenly have a brand new flame thrower?" Kate ranted, suddenly the frustration she used to feel about her mom simmering inside of her again.
"It's stupid," she sighed.
God, she can't keep avoiding her mom. But right now it feels like the best thing she could possibly do.
Taking a deep breath, she hid her face against Matt's shoulder, squeezing his hand a little harder as he held hers.
As he joked, she finally snorted, almost against her will. "Maybe be kind after I get some 5 extra minutes of sleep."
Matt simply listened, not offering commentary as Kate felt her way through her thoughts on the subject. "She didn't go into a lot of detail on how she thought she might help, because I told her right off the bat that it was up to you whether it would even be possible," he shared honestly. "I know that she wasn't planning on donning a costume and going out to do fisticuffs, so it would be financial. The finer points of what that means..." he gave a small shrug. "I said the one thing we could agree on is how much you matter, and that for me, that meant this being your choice. That quieted her because I wasn't willing to go further without your input at the table. So you can hear her out, or not. You can see her, or never answer the phone again. It's up to you."
He gave her hand a squeeze. There wasn't any right or wrong now in his book. Kate didn't owe her mother a relationship. If what she needed was time and space, he'd support that. If she wanted to hear her out, he'd support that, too. Hell, his own relationship with his mother wasn't one where he called her Mom, and that was after years of being reacquainted. Families were individual roadmaps and he just cared that Kate got what she needed and wasn't hurt in the process.
"Extra sleep? Lame," he teased her. "I guess this is the wrong time to say that I start talking before I've even had coffee. I don't know if that makes me a morning person but it does make me someone who doesn't understand the value of brain fog and staring in the distance for half an hour." He couldn't stare, anyway.
Quiet, Kate tried to picture both Matt and her mother in Claire's kitchen. The one place that had worked as some sort of an oasis in a very scary morning. Matt had pulled Kate aside, giving her a hug as they both finally seemed to be able to take a breath from everything that they went through. Not so unlike this last night.
Matt was like a lifeline sometimes. He was proof of the real value of having a good partner. They could get through anything together, she firmly believe in that now.
"... You think she was trying to manipulate you?" It was hard to know. Maybe Eleanor wanted Matt to be on her good side. Buy him. Because that was how Eleanor Bishop solved things: with money. Get others to do the dirty work. Kill a man or buy the one that might sweeten the deal to her daughter. "You know. Convince you with giving you enough money to solve our worries or whatever. Getting you on her side."
That's what this turned into? Sides? Teams? Kate realized, she still didn't trust her mom. As happy as she'd been when she got to see her again,
The noddles were clearly boiling now and judging the smell filling the kitchen now, they were getting overcooked. "Shit!" Startled, Kate remembered them and disentangled herself from Matt, going to check on them.
"I think she genuinely wanted to thank me for being there for you. And to find out about the people who were spending so much time with her daughter. Beyond that... I don't know, Kate. I don't know her well enough to know if there were ulterior motives. It's possible that she does just want to help, because you matter to her. What that might look like again is up to you. If she does end up lying in front of me I'll know. She wasn't lying that day." If anything, Eleanor had been very up front about where her priorities laid. She was there for Kate.
His brow furrowed until he heard her at the stove. He knew better than to move towards a hot stove that he wasn't overly familiar with, so he stayed by the counter. "Are the noodles okay? Did we ruin them? How are the pizza rolls doing?"
Hearing the magic word, remembering how much love Matt had showered him with the last time he did this trick, Lucky barked at the word pizza. Matt had to chuckle and reached out a hand. Lucky came over with his toy to receive pets as Matt did reassure him, "Yes, you're a very clever boy. The rolls aren't good for dogs, though. We'll have to leave it up to your mom if you get one or a more proper dog treat."
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streetlevel) wrote2024-12-23 08:39 pm
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"An evil witch, yeah," Matt said ruefully. "I think it was during my peak childhood Disney phase. I've since learned witches can be good." He still remembered that sense of terror though, that looming anxiety that something was wrong from the inside of his sanctuary and that it was his job to make it right. It wasn't even a dramatic moment like the Battle of New York for him that had started those first dreams. Just living in Hell's Kitchen day in and out had somehow caused it. His father fading though had definitely come in the wake of his father's passing, then recurred each time Matt lost another piece of his father to faulty memory. It wasn't a dream he had often these days, so many years had passed since he'd lost that grip on his father's real face, voice, and scent.
Now though, sometimes, it was replaced with Foggy.
"I might have given a speech or two when in my boxer shorts in the college dorm room, does that count?" he joked. "Never done one in my birthday suit. And I did no such thing. If my mouth was open I'd be tasting dog slobber in it, right?"
He let his fingers lightly drum on the table, asking hopefully, "Can I help? I can pour things into a pot. Or onto a baking sheet." For the pizza rolls. "You've done so much already... and I like to help." Those simple words so true, from when he was a child fighting a dream evil witch to now in a kitchen filling up a baking sheet.
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"You're helping me have a better sleep," she said softly, but loud enough for him to hear clearly. "You make this city a better place, Matt." She truly believed that. What they stood for. What they sacrificed. Where he would lead them.
"Glad you got over your prejudices," she joked as she went to the fridge, getting out the box of pizza rolls. Joke or not, hopefully that which had haunted him in his dreams had changed these days too. Matt faced so many hardships on his every day life, every night, that the least he deserved was pleasant dreams. A little escape.
It was so unfair, knowing that people like Fisk slept peacefully at night. Kate so hoped she was wrong about that.
"It's close enough for me to take it," Kate laughed, gently pushing Lucky away from the counter as he tried to sniff around for treats. "And are you sure you can't taste dog slobber?"
Ready to get the water to boil, Matt's request changed her plans. For a second, Kate looked around, still feeling a little lost in her mom's roomy kitchen. "Oh! Right! Give me a second. Hummmm..." Matt sure heard her opening cabinets, walking past him and returning, the clicking of Lucky's claws on the floor letting him know the dog followed her every step. "Here! Okay, baking sheet. Here." Placing it before him along with some parchment paper, she guided his hand to the box of pizza rolls. "It's so much easier to find stuff in a kitchen when you only own one set of cutlery." And by that, she means the days back when she only owned one fork, two knives and a spoon.
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"Oh, you know me. Big on redemption," he joked on not holding onto grudges for the wicked witches. His childhood mind had taken larger enemies and dressed them in Disney clothing, but it was still far easier to make jokes now than dig any deeper. He'd started the teasing, after all. He'd expected Kate to follow him on that trail. "Ever met a real witch? I wouldn't be surprised if they existed now, knowing what I do." With people and powers.
"I taste nothing, maybe what Lucky and I have is chaste and pure," Matt joked, then set himself to cutting and setting down the aluminum foil on the baking dish, and spreading out a handful of the pizza rolls. He tried to run his fingers over the container to see if they were pepperoni or not, but he couldn't read the print. A touch sadly, but rallying, he decided it would be fun to be surprised. "Yeah, but if you only own one set, you can't host a dinner party," he told her with a smile. "We can host one together if you ever want, I can show you how much fun they are. Though your real friends won't care if your glasses all match. I cooked my first one in our college dorm kitchen, everyone had a ton of fun, and paper plates were used."
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She couldn't help idealizing the title, still.
At the mention of tasteless dog spit Kate made choking and puking sounds that for Matt would be impossible to miss. Even Lucky pricked up his ears, turning to look at her as if he had been personally offended. Maybe he was.
"Wait, even back then you cooked?" It made sense. A lot of people found pleasure in that from a young age. "What did you serve?" She asked, finally putting the pot on the stove and tapping the buttons to heat it up.
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Ruffling Lucky's head, Matt shook his and protested, "I meant that it was chaste and pure because there wasn't any dog spit to taste! Stop making this ugly, Kate. Lucky's my buddy." Lucky wagged his tail as he chewed on his toy, just happy to be included.
So much his buddy that it was fine to move the pizza rolls with a hand that had touched the dog, right? It wasn't like a regular mouth could taste that. Matt moved each piece apart so that they would bake evenly.
"Oh, I cooked from the time I was a kid." Matt smiled at the memory, moving the tray over a little to show he was done. "My dad was a single parent, you know? He worked a lot with training and fights. He had the neighbor look in on me but I was left alone a lot, and I felt bad that he'd come home so late without anything to eat. So I started making things. Just sandwiches at first, or mac 'n cheese. Pizza rolls. But I found I liked it. We couldn't afford much so it wasn't elaborate, but he'd buy things for me to try and make. And then every so often he'd just take me out for dinner at midnight.
That night at Columbia I made flatbread pizza and Caesar salad, but it all started with bologna and cheese sandwiches waiting for my dad. And me asleep at the kitchen table just waiting to hear about his fight."
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Sure, maybe a doctor would give her an earful, but logic had never stopped Kate before. "Matt the Wizard," she tried, figuring how it rolled off her tongue. "Magical Matthew. Mystical Murdock."
It kinda made sense.
A Matt defended the chastity of his relationship with the retriever, Kate offered a distracted 'uh-huh' that proved she wasn't buying it. Still, as she walked behind him, she didn't waste her chance to poke Matt in a spot she knew he'd find ticklish. Was it that bad without his powers?
Coming back with a couple of ramen bowls for the noodles, complete with a little hole for the chopsticks, she placed them down on the counter and moved to the oven to pre-heat it.
"Dinner at midnight? That sounds fun." Specially for a kid that spent the day by himself. Kate knew what it was like to grow with a single parent. Well, partially. She was never unsupervised, though.
"Fuck, Matt..." That last thing about him falling asleep on the table, waiting for a hardworking dad who's literally come home injured to be able to afford the meals his son was learning to cook by himself. It broke her heart right there. "... I kinda wish I could travel in time to give the little you a hug."
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Then she tickled him and he eeped, shooting daggers like he might the devil.
"HA - hey, no, nope, none of that." He moved around the counter, hands on the edge, eyes playfully narrowed. "I'm gonna remember that, Bishop. For when you least expect it." He did hate to be tickled. Not in an upsetting way, he wasn't genuinely upset, but it made his skin crawl.
"Yeah, dinners at midnight. Think I told you about those." He wouldn't wax poetic about old tales. His smile softened though at her tone. She sounded... maybe sad for him? It was hard to tell right now. In case she was he was quick to reassure, "Hey no, it was a good memory. I know what my dad and I had wasn't conventional..." a kid stitching up his dad probably wasn't the norm, "but... we were partners? A team. It was a good memory, Kate." Until it wasn't. "He was a great dad, and I couldn't have been more lucky."
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Because she'd always had a soft spot for people who were truly inspiring. Just like Clint and how he had shaped her up, becoming a role model she had idolized for years, a mentor now, there was something about Matt that truly inspired to wanting to be a better person. Perhaps... What she truly wanted to be was someone that matched how highly he spoke of her at times.
"Do you still think this is something God gave you?" She remembered that he'd mention that those were his beliefs, a long time ago. Of course, remembering that right now those powers were not quite working...
Well, Kate regretted her question.
She definitely did not regret the tickles attack, shamelessly laughing at the look Matt shot her way. "Come at me, Murdock," she challenged him, well aware that she would surely blame herself for this in the near future.
As Matt explained, she started to think that the story did sound familiar. They talked about so many things that maybe not everything stuck as it should. She was glad to hear that Matt had such good memories, even though she knew that his childhood must have been tough. "He did sound pretty amazing. You think there's videos online of him fighting? I would love to see that."
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"I don't know." His voice was soft, yet old, as though this wasn't a question he was just asking now that his powers were gone.
His gaze fell, not from her, he couldn't see her. His body folded inward, making itself smaller, until he rallied. Murdocks didn't fall though, even when religion failed. He squared his shoulders, raised his head, and tried to smile.
"I'm biding my time," he warned her with the tickling, for now getting caught in playing tug of war with Lucky and his new toy.
"He was amazing." Matt didn't sound doubtful on that. "Yeah, we'd go out for pancakes at shitty diners every so often. I'd fall asleep at school the next day but he'd cover for me. And the nights in between, I made dinner for him and patched him up." He didn't add that his dad had given him a nip of whiskey to control his hands when patching, but the spirit of the loyalty was there. You couldn't separate Matt from his dad when one spoke of the Murdocks back then. He'd spent endless hours studying at the gym, it was just the fights his dad had kept Matt away from. Too many gang members and the mob. His dad tried to keep him safe.
Matt gave Kate a soft smile. "I doubt it. My dad... he didn't win a lot of fights. He wasn't a big name." The locals loved him because he wouldn't stay down even then, he was a bruiser and a battler. He embodied the working class spirit who could take a hit and go to the last round. He didn't often win, though. He wasn't someone who made a lot of publicity. Locals liked him though because he put up one hell of a fight. Until he started throwing matches to afford his son. God, what an asshole he'd been to put that on his dad. To demand moral purity when Jack was in debt. Yet... didn't Matt do that with everyone? Demand the highest standards, no matter the personal cost? Didn't he ask everyone to be a hero?
Hadn't Jack died so his son would have one?
"What about your dad? Any videos?"
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Aliens had been a mystery not long ago. Asgardian Gods had been a myth. If anything, Kate liked to keep an open mind, a hope to be pleasantly surprised by life and its mysteries. But then, if God had truly given Matt his powers... Did that mean he had also taken them away?
She said nothing, watching as Matt pulled on that poor capybara as Lucky bit down on it harder and fought to snatch it off his hand.
"You learned to look after your loved ones since you were a kid," Kate noted. It was part of Matt's nature, there was no question about it. Had he also inherited his protectiveness from his dad. Maybe from his mom too. After all, Kate had witnessed how Sister -- God, she couldn't remember her name. But Matt's mom had attempted to get into the orphanage as it burned to help those kids.
Just like Matt did at the police station.
"Maybe there's an article on him or something like that. Like, a community piece or something. It's worth checking around." Maybe she just selfishly wanted to put a face on a man that was so important in Matt's life. Did he look like him? It'd be nice, telling him that. Describing what he had no way of knowing.
"My dad?" Grabbing the baking sheet of pizza rolls Matt had prepared, Kate slid it in the oven now. "Yeah, there's a few videos of him. Family stuff, mostly. Holidays, birthdays. Some of my competitions. Mom was always good at keeping stuff for the memory value." It was no wonder that even after all these years, she still kept even her dad's clothes. And in perfect condition.
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"Yeah, I guess I did," Matt admitted on learning how to look after his loved ones. "We learn from what's around us, right?" He certainly had. There had been some lessons in what not to do in Hell's Kitchen, but he'd also experienced a community that looked after one another, too. The seedy underbelly couldn't completely take away the good parts.
"There were a few articles. Not many, but a few." Including not just some boxing matches, but also the story of Matt losing his sight to save a man from a truck, and about the night Jack was murdered. He'd kept a few in his old trunk that had burned, along with his dad's gloves. "You might be able to find them if you wanted, but none are that in depth or extensive." At the end of the day to most, Jack Murdock had just been a local boxer, one of the city's many losses.
"Maybe you could play one sometime, so I could hear what he sounded like." He could imagine the man from Kate, but it was different than hearing the real voice.
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"You learned to fight for what's right," she murmured, coming to Matt's side and leaning next to him with her back against the counter. "To always stand up again," she almost seemed to recite the motto she was learned from Matt, warmth in her tone. Kate would always be in awe of his tenacity. "And to look after people." She was probably missing so many things. But she liked to think she had learned a few about Jack Murdock through his son.
"It's worth checking it out," Kate insisted. Even reading a couple of short paragraphs. Hopefully, if she was lucky, they'd come with a photo. "Have you thought about that thing we discussed once?" She suddenly asked, her tone shifting into something far more curious now. "About printing your dad's or Foggy's picture in 3D?"
It wouldn't be too expensive anyway, if that was what worried Matt.
"... I might have something in the Cloud me and mom shared."
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He held his hands up in surrender then as she insisted in hunting down articles on Jack. "For be it for me to think I could dissuade you," he teased her with affection. Dropping his hands he added, "And I thought about it, but I dunno... would it be weird to have just two head busts in a room? I know museums have them, but you don't really find them in apartments."
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In this case, one that truly reached Kate's heart. "Yeah, maybe." She was obviously touched, leaning against him and bumping him back. "Mom always said that Dad drove her insane sometimes. He would go away a few days for a business trip and come back a day later after a detour to go rock climbing or to try some incredible zip line or go swimming with sharks." She still remembered how excited her dad had been. He had brought her the biggest shark plushie and spent hours showing her videos and talking about the adventure. "Maybe I did inherit that from him. Driving mom nuts."
As Matt gave up, Kate snorted, but was clearly proud of herself. "Well, they don't need to be busts. For what I've seen they also do these reliefs, like a 3D painting?" Which, to most people might still be weird. "You don't have to keep them on display, you can always get them out of a box when you need to see them." She remembered how he kept his dad's boxing gloves and Stick's batons in some chest.
What had happened with all that? It was probably gone with Matt's apartment. Kate didn't dare to ask.
"Besides, fuck it, you have a devil costume at home. I have trick arrows. Some people have fetish stuff in their closet. Who cares? It's nobody else's business."
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"A 3D painting might be a little less weird," Matt admitted with a small nod. "And no, I shouldn't care what people think, except..." he hesitated, then added, "Well, Foggy thought it was weird. When I touched his face that one time. He let me do it, but he wasn't comfortable with me doing it again. I don't know if this crosses a line, since it is his face but also not." Matt genuinely didn't know what the right thing to do in that instance was. "My dad never cared, but well. Do you think it's invasive to do it in Foggy's case?"
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Derek Bishop was not the perfect father she idealized her whole life.
As Matt shared his fears, Kate carefully considered them. She understood that he had a point. "I don't know, it's -- I think it's different." Is it? "There's something intimate about touching another person's face." She couldn't help it, turning to look at him, remembering the moment they had shared earlier in the sofa. Matt didn't have to, but he had caressed her face too. Telling Kate he would protect her with his life.
Intimacy... Can be platonic too, right?
"But, I don't know. People have pictures and videos to remember him. You don't. And you're his best friend." It was unfair that all Matt had waws words in Braille and the sounds of Foggy's voice. "I think he'd understand."
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His touching Foggy had certainly been platonic, but Matt understood why it was still a bit too close and personal for the man's taste. Especially back then men touching one another like that wasn't common, even with Matt and Foggy hugging and hanging around one another's shoulders was common. Would Foggy be more understanding now? Maybe. It wasn't really his friend's face, even if it was. "I guess... I don't know. We can have it made. After that I can decide if it's okay to keep or maybe give to his mom if it doesn't feel right. Just tell me how much I owe you for it."
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Matt had a point, though. Most people probably had a hard time realizing their parents weren't great. "Yeah. Now I understand my mom a little better, at least. She had to make some really hard choices. Even if she fucked up massively."
She rested her head on his shoulder, finding a strange comfort in feeling like she and Matt almost shared something in this experience.
"Yeah, that doesn't sound too bad. And if you ever needed to touch his face again, you could visit his family and do it." Would it be weird for Foggy's parents? No, they would probably understand why something like that would be special to Matt. "Hey, if you could afford to get me a squishy dumpling, I can afford this for you."
She needed a photo of Matt's dad, though. Kate wanted him to remember what his dad's face was like.
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A street vendor's toy and a printed painting Matt knew weren't equal in price by any means, but he also knew that Kat was in a position to not have to put a price tag on such things. Money meant something different to her, and if he was spending a day in her world, he should accept that. He lightly leaned his head against hers, instinctively inhaling to see if he could breath in her scent the way he normally would just smell her. "Okay, okay. I'll let it go. This time." A beat. "You're a very kind person, Kate." His hand found hers and gave it a little squeeze.
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At Matt's question, Kate became a little silent, turning to stir the noddles as she stepped away from him briefly. "Just, mostly small talk. Checking on her. I've kinda... Ignored her last messages." Things had been busy, Kate had too much to worry about. Focusing on the city, on their task, that was much easier than working on unresolved feelings and unfinished conversations.
She returned to Matt's side, not able to ignore how he had called Eleanor 'interesting'. She knew that tone. "Did my mom say anything wrong to you when you talked in the kitchen?" Kate had not dared to bring it up before, but now she definitely needed to know.
As Matt leaned towards her and took her hand, Kate was only mildly surprised. Briefly. She smiled, leaning closer to his side and resting her cheek on his shoulder.
"It's nothing," she argued, even though her voice was soft like velvet. "It's easy to be kind to you."
Kate would give him anything, if only Matt asked.
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Was that what Eleanor was leaving messages about? Maybe.
"And it's not nothing. Not to me." Gestures from Kate never meant nothing to him. They were always held close to his heart. He leaned his head back against hers. "I'm gonna remind you that it's easier to be kind to me the next time you're grumpy too early in the morning."
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Aren't those men completely ruthless? Murderers...
It makes her heart sink, as little by little she starts understanding what Matt means.
Almost. "How could she possibly help?" Kate shakes her head instantly. "That would be stupid. I mean, she's on the run right now." She waved her hand around, almost as if she was physically searching or answers. "We're being freaking careful about everything we spend money on and what's she gonna do? Use our money to let the cops know where she is and Fisk realize we suddenly have a brand new flame thrower?" Kate ranted, suddenly the frustration she used to feel about her mom simmering inside of her again.
"It's stupid," she sighed.
God, she can't keep avoiding her mom. But right now it feels like the best thing she could possibly do.
Taking a deep breath, she hid her face against Matt's shoulder, squeezing his hand a little harder as he held hers.
As he joked, she finally snorted, almost against her will. "Maybe be kind after I get some 5 extra minutes of sleep."
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He gave her hand a squeeze. There wasn't any right or wrong now in his book. Kate didn't owe her mother a relationship. If what she needed was time and space, he'd support that. If she wanted to hear her out, he'd support that, too. Hell, his own relationship with his mother wasn't one where he called her Mom, and that was after years of being reacquainted. Families were individual roadmaps and he just cared that Kate got what she needed and wasn't hurt in the process.
"Extra sleep? Lame," he teased her. "I guess this is the wrong time to say that I start talking before I've even had coffee. I don't know if that makes me a morning person but it does make me someone who doesn't understand the value of brain fog and staring in the distance for half an hour." He couldn't stare, anyway.
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Matt was like a lifeline sometimes. He was proof of the real value of having a good partner. They could get through anything together, she firmly believe in that now.
"... You think she was trying to manipulate you?" It was hard to know. Maybe Eleanor wanted Matt to be on her good side. Buy him. Because that was how Eleanor Bishop solved things: with money. Get others to do the dirty work. Kill a man or buy the one that might sweeten the deal to her daughter. "You know. Convince you with giving you enough money to solve our worries or whatever. Getting you on her side."
That's what this turned into? Sides? Teams? Kate realized, she still didn't trust her mom. As happy as she'd been when she got to see her again,
The noddles were clearly boiling now and judging the smell filling the kitchen now, they were getting overcooked. "Shit!" Startled, Kate remembered them and disentangled herself from Matt, going to check on them.
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His brow furrowed until he heard her at the stove. He knew better than to move towards a hot stove that he wasn't overly familiar with, so he stayed by the counter. "Are the noodles okay? Did we ruin them? How are the pizza rolls doing?"
Hearing the magic word, remembering how much love Matt had showered him with the last time he did this trick, Lucky barked at the word pizza. Matt had to chuckle and reached out a hand. Lucky came over with his toy to receive pets as Matt did reassure him, "Yes, you're a very clever boy. The rolls aren't good for dogs, though. We'll have to leave it up to your mom if you get one or a more proper dog treat."
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