Daredevil + Matt’s hearing coming back

DAREDEVIL (2015-2018) - 3.01 • “Resurrection”

they all have different fires,  different levels of damage that world has inflicted upon.  perhaps she's lucky hers is so much easier to hide  -  yet there is no doubt they all have their boxes of secrets to hide.    ❝ now,  aren't lawyers meant to be good judges of character?  do I seem the kind who doesn't know how to fix up a pavement induced cut or two? ❞   maeve has no need to fully believe him,   no inclination to pretend that she does,  but there is no part of gentle nature that makes her capable of simply walking away when there is anything she may assist with.    (   she needs to be helpful,  it has always been her downfall,  a little too much empathy.  )   

she's no medical doctor,  but stitches are something she has done enough times that they've started to feel like muscle memory.

❝ I get it,  you don't want to talk about it,   or to tell me what's happening. ❞    voice remains soft,  lacking in any true accusation.  instead all that scientist speaks are observations  -  clever eyes studying him before they flicker around space.  ❝ will you tell me where you have a first aid kit tucked away at least?   I'm quite the fusser.  if you let me distract myself by helping,  I shall surely be too busy to continue asking questions you need to dodge.  unless you wish to continue checking if I had any calling as a lawyer? ❞

he  can  either  reflect  the  comments,        or  attempt  to  diffuse  the  tension.        despite  his  usual  tenacious  attitude,        he  chooses  to  go  down  the  more  comical  path,        rather,        try        &        fail  being  funny.        he  figures  it  will  serve  the  purpose  of  being  a  distraction  regardless  of  his  failure.        ❝      the  pain  might  be  clouding  my  judgment       .  .  .        i’m  kidding.      ❞        Matt  comments.        the  smile  on  his  face  dwindles,        leaving  its  place  to  a  thoughtful  expression,        almost  languid.        he  means  to  limit  his  movements,        because  there’s  a  little  area  on  his  brow  that  is  on  literal  fire,  or  so  it  feels like.

❝      you’re  a  very  smart  lady,        that’s  for  sure.        me  commenting  on  whether  you  could  have  had  a  calling  as  a  lawyer  might  actually  end  up  giving  you  clues  on  your  suspicions  about  what  you  think  happened  to  me.      ❞

&        saying  so  gives  her  nothing.        if  he  slips,        he  can  blame  his  concussion  he  can  feel  is  ready  to  burgeon.        a  tilt  of  his  head,        senses        SPREAD        across  space,        waves  quavering  against  what  his  mind  interprets.        there’s  the  vicissitude  of  medicine  in  a  bottle,        humming  to  him.        ❝      there’s  one  in  the  kitchen  cupboards,        second  one  from  the  left,        top  shelf,        left  corner.      ❞

__________✧   SHE'S NEVER HAD A TRUE HOME. when she lived her life as the married natalia shostakova, that house had been gifted to her by the party. bugged && staged with furniture that was not their own. san francisco had been a fleeting dream. avengers tower was a job, her safe homes were temporary, the red room was closer to a circle of hell than any childhood home. when he speaks those words with such conviction, she can't help but feel a twinge in her chest for something she never had. this is the closest she's ever come: a refuge in the city with one who had still has part of her heart.

✧__________   SHE IS THE ONE WHO HUGS CORNERS && WALLS, yet she forces herself towards the middle of the office as he packs up, shifting from one foot to the other. chewing the inside of her cheek to prevent sarcastic comments from coming across as hostile. they failed at this before && that's their great tragedy. she could never hate him even when their past lays in ruins. she wonders if there was a way this could have worked, a way she could have saved herself && them. does their line of work always have to be one or the other ??

__________✧   A SOFT SMILE PRESSES AGAINST HER LIPS. it's still chilly in the city, her favorite time of the year to be honest. she focuses on that simple pleasure now, to ignore the growing unease at who awaits them later tonight. she knows she has to confide the identity of their target to matt, but she hesitates now. ❛  i'd say that sounds great. though you've always had a penchant for being convincing. it's what makes you a great lawyer. can't believe you're still in that building after all this time. never wanted to venture out to something new ??  ❜

he’s  grateful  for  the  chill  of  the  biting  air.        it  serves  as  a  distraction  as  they  venture  down  the  streets  he  has  memorized  like  the  patterns  of  veins  running  through  her  body.        he  was  scared  he’d  forgotten  her.        his  cane  is  in  display  for  pure  theatrics,        blending  in  as  an  ordinary  blind  man  comes  as  a  reflex  until  they’re  in  the  comfort  of  the  apartment  complex.        ❝      not  sure  if  i  could  afford  to,        and  i  guess  i  don’t  see  a  reason  to  anymore.      ❞        she  was  his  reason.        a  gulp  behind  his  throat,        that  bittersweet  expression  that  crosses  his  lips  when  there’s  a  tinge  of  heartbreak  is  in  full  bloom.

he  turns  the  key        ;        it  twists  like  the  muscles  in  his  jaw.        ❝      sorry,  i  don’t  mean  to  imply  anything  or  make  you  uncomfortable.        i’m  just  being  honest    something  i  didn’t  always  do  with  you  before.      ❞        Matt  steps  in,        politely  turning        &        gesturing  towards  his  living  space.        it’s  not  easy  for  him  to  pretend  or  keep  his  emotions  pressed  down,        not  like  she  can.        he  is  no        SPY        &        he’s  not  exactly  the  best  to  keep  his  temper  in  matters  of  heart.

this  is  not  the  courtroom.        this  is  his  home,        his  home  with  its  missing  piece  existing  within  it  in  this  exact  moment.        Matt  is  cautious  heading  towards  the  table  situated  by  the  kitchen  area,        setting  down  his  bag,   the  cane,        his  coat,        his  bravery  from  earlier      .  .  .  ❝      i  can’t  believe  you’re  actually  here.      ❞

" my secret? " she asks, capturing up the utensils. she wraps her hands around the wood & pries until an uncomfortable snap cracks through the room. " ----- i'm a piece of shit. tends to keep people away. "

a beat passes while she fiddles the lid of one of the containers open. she fishes a hunk of bok choy dribbling with sticky soy sauce up between them.

" --------- most of the time. " the syrup-cloyed vegetable crunches between her molars & she uses the moment to dish out a clump of rice onto the folded-open container that she's using as a plate. she snags a hunk of chicken, pocketing it into her cheek without ceremony. " current company obviously excluded. " jessica keeps eating for a while, churning through a mess of peanuts, meat, & vegetables before adding:

" if you keep showing up like this with food i'm going to think you have a crush on me. "

" or, more likely ---- " muffles around another mouthful. " you have something you want from me. " her brow scathes up a path toward her hairline.

" so, which is it? "

there  are  certain  half-formed  statements  that  will  never  pass  to  existence.        trying  to  break  through  the  defenses  that  the  lady  has  put  up  against  everyone  is        USELESS.        perhaps,        it’s  better  to  surrender  to  her  violet  waves.       

there’s  a  pattern  to  the  woman  next  to  him,        the  pattern  of  her  thoughts  coming  around  to        BEAT        herself  up.        it’s  as  if  she  wages  war    both  against  herself        &        her  food. 

❝      i’ve  met  plenty  of  people  in  the  dark.        trust  me,        you  are  not  a  bad  person.      ❞        Matt  comments,        voice  tinged  by  a  vibration  of  certainty,        callous        &        thick.        unlike  Jessica,        he  is  not  eating.        he  only  plays  with  his  food  because  his  senses  refuse  to  be  fragmentary.        they  are  focused  as  a  whole  on  the  heartbeat  of  her.

❝      maybe  i  just  like  the  sound  of  your  grumpy  voice.      besides,      you  don’t  kick  me  out,        so  i  could  ask  you  the  same  thing.      ❞

Daredevil (2015-2018) 2.03 | New York’s Finest

Daredevil (2015–2018) S03E01 ✛ RESURRECTION