4214/Patching Up

Patching Up
Date of Scene:	10 April 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Matt, Claire and Elektra go to Matt's after their fight with the Hand. Claire and Elektra get patched up, Elektra and Matt realize some things can never change.
Cast of Characters:	Daredevil, Elektra, Claire Temple

---

Daredevil has posed:
They headed straight to Matt's after the battle with the Hand. At his door, Matt pauses, putting a hand against it checking for signs of people waiting inside, then finding nothing, threw it open and ushered Elektra and Claire inside. The lights were off, but thanks to the billboard across the way, the place was lit in garish shades of red, pink and blue as some Chinese airway ad played on the enormous screen. Matt flicks on the lights, then pauses a second time, his attention fixed behind them now, on the building, the other tenants. It all felt familiar, nothing out of the ordinary, even shouting match in 6C was becoming par for the course.

He steps in and closes the door, "We're safe, I'm pretty sure that last guy didn't follow us," he announces. Though safety was relative now. He pushes that out of his mind and gestures towards the apartment's living area. "Let's get things sorted out." Whether he means the vomit on their clothes, their wounds or the terrible mess they're in, even he's not so sure.

Elektra has posed:
"Pretty sure?" Elektra's tones are dry. With the fight, and the adrenaline, the alcohol had lost the worst of its hold upon her. "Matthew, you really have no clue, do you? Whether they followed us or not, you're known now." She gestures towards Claire with an angry wave of hand. "She's.."

Elektra stops herself, and takes a calming breath, even though calm is anything but what she feels.

"You don't understand, Matthew. How am I to set my own men as watch against my own men?" Given that it's quite frankly the only option she truly has at this moment.

Claire Temple has posed:
Her... own? Claire hears the words, but disbelief, denial, and low blood pressure keep the meaning from solidifying. "Your men?" she asks, looking at Elektra as best she can. Her eyes blink rapidly, but she's most definitely not going for the coquettish look. "You...?" she asks, before a deep breath reintroduces her to her clothing's recent history and she cringes.

"Hey, Matt, the couch," she says, pulling against the arms holding her up. "Good to sit for a while. Long day."

Daredevil has posed:
Face twitching like he does when he's biting down on anger, Matt brushes off Elektra's remarks with, "I'm dealing with one problem at a time," he says as he begins to move Claire towards the couch "Right now, problem one is getting you two patched up, preferably with no ninjas kicking in the door. The rest is problem two through whatever we got to tonight."

He doubts that will satisfy Elektra, hell it barely satisfies him, but triage is the only way he can think to get through all this without simply running for his life.

The comments about Elektra and her men, get a shake of his head from Matt, "Let's get you sitting down," he says to Claire guiding her to the relative safety of the couch.

Elektra has posed:
"Oh, for fucks sakes," Elektra explodes with anger of her own. "You really think patching me up even ranks on the list of concerns right now?" Even if he does have the right of it in most respects. However, it's some measure of how rattled she is that she's not able to focus on the more linear progression of troubles at the moment.

She helps him settle Claire, but moves to the window instead of taking a rest herself. "This is not how any of this was supposed to go," she murmurs, face bathed in the glow of the neon sign across the way. "This was supposed to make things easier. Better." Angry with herself now for not doing what she knew was best. For allowing Matt's plea to override her awareness of the long term effects of letting those men go. Even though one had escaped, the message the other bodies would have left would have helped her.. Except.. except for the fact that she'd clearly fought on Matt and Claire's side, and that one she didn't have a fast and ready explanation for.

Yet.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire initially comes to rest on the couch with a relieved huff, but her comfort doesn't entirely last until she shuffles herself around to park her ankles on the armrest and get blood flowing brainward again. She bumps the cut arm against the back of the couch and hisses, awareness coming back as the noise escapes. Her ears become clearer, and she tries to put things together beyond her panic at the persistent bodily fluids leak. Sup-- what?

"Supposed to what?" she asks, a little more vocal strength coming back. She parks her wrist against her waist and starts squeezing the left arm again, wincing as it gets wet and sticky again. "Someone better do good stitches," she mutters.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt frowns, "Given what happened? Yes," he answers firmly. If what happened in the alley behind Josie's was round one, he needed Elektra patched up as best he could before round two. Once Claire's down on couch, Matt, realizes the best resource on if that's the case is Elektra herself. "Are they coming back?" he asks her.

The rest of what Elektra says, is met with a nod. "Which was supposed to make this better?" he asks adding his question to Claire, now that he was home, in familiar surroundings he gets a better sense of Claire's wound. He smiles when she mentions stitches. "I can give it a try, but, Elektra? Are you up to it?" he asks. "I can go get my kit."

Elektra has posed:
Despite herself, Elektra is irritated and she allows herself the emotion on the grounds that it is one way to avoid thinking about the rest of things for the moment, letting her focus her attention, instead upon Matt.

"Given what happened? You think I had anything to do with that? Do you know the danger I put mysel--"

Elektra catches herself, and silences the rest of that. Claire's presense not only remembered, but found to be coherent and cognizant with the remark about stitching.

"Go get your kit, Matthew," she tells him, making her way over to the couch. "I can stitch you up. At least well enough until you can get it looked at by someone else." Figuring that no matter the job she, herself, does, Claire will likely not trust it and will be seeing someone else to have it looked at.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire's eyes go round at Matt's suggestion. "You'd try...? No, no, Matt," she says, turning over to present the cut arm and tucking the blood-covered one up in front of her face. "That's... no." How he would suggest such a thing with a straight face is mildly horrifying in Claire's mind, with Elektra's main benefit being that of eyesight. It takes a few moments for her to calm with a sigh as her imagination supplies just what could happen to her arm... her nerve endings... her muscles... oh, dear. She winces and screws up her eyes. "Quick with the kit," she says, fully expecting some near-term regrets.

While she waits, she turns over some of what she's been hearing from Matt and Elektra. "Danger? You said that before," she says, her voice flat.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt shoots Elektra an annoyed look, as if she'd even think that was a slap in the face. It was mostly true, for a moment, when Elektra had been outside the bar as the ninjas attacked, he'd thought maybe she'd had something to do with it. That passed when she'd joined them and was utterly banished when she wanted to kill them. She was scared, and irritated and he didn't need to hear her heartbeat to tell that. Her voice was enough.

"I'm asking because you've," he pauses, "Fought them longer than me. I was looking for insight, not levelling accusations."

To Claire, Matt offers a tight smile. "Don't worry, I won't," he says even if he had been doing it since he was nine. He heads off into the bathroom and comes back with the paramedic's kit he stashed there.

"Danger?" he asks coming back into the room. "We meant the ninjas."

He brings the kit to the couch and sets it down, stepping out of Elektra's way.

Elektra has posed:
Now it's Elektra's turn to shoot Matt a look when he speaks of her 'fighting them longer than he has', though his comeback when he returns with the first-aid kit almost earns him forgiveness. All that is needed now is for Claire to accept that and things can go on as normal, which is to say Claire still not trusting her, but at least having no real clue as to the depths of why she should be concerned. It's a conversation Elektra would rather not have if not entirely necessary.

Even if she suspects Claire is going to make it necessary.

"Let me see your arm," she tells the other woman Gruffly. "And Matt, some clean hand towels, if you please."

Claire Temple has posed:
"Ninjas," Claire says at some length while she turns her shoulder a little more for Elektra's inspection. A little bit of blood drips across her front, sliding out from under the end of the cut fabric of her sleeve. "How'd you get ninjas at Josie's?" she asks, eyes still closed firmly because she Does Not Want To Watch. The phrasing is inadvertent, as though one could "get" ninjas the same way they might get a cold or any other illness. "Not like they're there for the burgers..."

She purses her lips and waits for Elektra to begin her work. Nowhere to hide now...

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can feel that glare on him. "I am being serious though, are they likely to show up?" he presses Elektra. "Or does this feel like a one and done sort of hit? I'm asking to see if I need to go get the suit on." The mask wouldn't do any good, but the armour, that would be a big help.

He knew what the Hand did tonight was the least of their worries, it'd be the next day and the next on until almost certainly forever was the real problem. However, Matt couldn't plan for that, not yet, so he kept things small, tactical rather than strategic.

Sent for a towel, Matt heads to the kitchen to grab one out of a drawer of them, flicking the switch on the coffee maker as he passes, another part of his make Elektra effective if the Hand comes plan, then returns saying, "They're a new menu item," he grins to Claire. "Seriously thinking of editing my positive Yelp review," he says handing Elektra the towel.

Elektra has posed:
Now Elektra punctuates the look with words, "Will you shut up?" If looks could kill, Matt would be in serious danger right now. Elektra really is off her game tonight as far as being self-contained.

Thankfully Matt takes directions well, and Elektra can focus on Claire. "I doubt that they were real ninjas," Elektra tries. "Likely an attempt to rile up the neighbourhood. There has been some unrest traipsing over the bridge from Gotham. Some contested areas over drug pushing." Elektra says that with utter authority, though how she knows /that/ is anyone's guess.

When Matt returns, she asks for a basin of warm water. And while she waits, she takes a peek at Claires wound to assess it.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire takes this information with her current capacity to analyze and frowns. "Swords were real," she grumps, cocking her head toward her left shoulder. She squirms into a less painful position to ease the pressure on her hip and her knee from trying to keep her feet elevated while she moved herself around.

"Knew Japanese, I guess," she says as she watches Matt coming back with the towel. She hums unhappily while Elektra starts looking over the cut. "Gonna bleed a lot," she says thickly as Matt returns with the water.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Karma?" Claire asks, (misguided) concern evident. "Whose karma?" she asks, looking around before settling on Matt's arm. She lets out a long breath through her nose.

The revelation about the ninjas nudges some pieces into place, and Claire slowly begins to size up the picture as Elektra swabs at her arm. "Real ninjas, all right," she allows as she peers at the water turning red in the bowl. "Dragged how?" she asks after a few moments. "You know about all of this?" Her own earlier remarks haven't bubbled back up into memory, for now.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt blinks at Elektra's yelling but, ultimately says nothing clamping down on his own anger as he goes to handle the task of getting the towel and turning on coffee. When he returns he supplies, "She's probably right, I ran into some ninjas in Brooklyn the other night," he says, "Stealing TVs of all things," he says shaking his head. "Might be the same guys," he says.

Matt had actually fought those ninjas, and he could say with certainty the men he fought tonight were an entirely different calibre.

"And yeah, real swords, they spoke pretty good Japanese," as if Matt would know. "And they had the right outfits, but they're nothing like the real pyjama bandits, we faced last fall." He says using Luke's name for the Hand.

At the mention of bleeding, Matt puts a hand on Claire's shoulder, "It's okay, I like to think of it as karma."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra wasn't *really* yelling, but for her.. it was very animated and a very clear indication of her anger..

When Matt talks of running into ninjas stealing tvs, she ahs no clue if he's lying or not (knowing Matt it's likely not, but even if he were lying, he's got a personal confessor and a standing twice a week appointment in the confessional), and Elektra begins to relax, even when Claire murmurs about the blades being real.

Matt to the surprising rescue, though, with his real swords, real live Japanese people, but fake ninjas. "Pajama bandits?" Elektra looks over quirking a brow at Matt before returning her attention to Claire's arm, dipping one of the towels into the basin to begin cleaning Claire's wound, a cleaning that is surprisingly gentle as well as being efficient.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Karma?" Claire asks, (misguided) concern evident. "Whose karma?" she asks, looking around before settling on Matt's arm. She lets out a long breath through her nose.

The revelation about the ninjas nudges some pieces into place, and Claire slowly begins to size up the picture as Elektra swabs at her arm. "Real ninjas, all right," she allows as she peers at the water turning red in the bowl. "Dragged how?" she asks after a few moments. "You know about all of this?" Her earlier remarks haven't bubbled back up into memory, for now.

Daredevil has posed:
"Karma for me," Matt says reassuringly, "I've bled on your couch enough to earn a little of the same."

He seems pleased, the story went over so well, and Elektra's question about the 'pyjama bandits' earns a smile and shrug from Matt. "A friend's term, not mine."

He says before frowning at Claire, "Hm?" he asks, suddenly frowning, their cover may not have been as good as they thought. "Know about what?" he asks. "These fake ninjas?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra shuts her mouth and lets Matt deal for now with Claire's questions. She has the readymade excuse of tending to Claire's arm. One of the clean towels is spread down for Claire to use as a rest.

"I know you know the drill. The peroxide is cool. You won't feel much but that. The alcohol, though, is going to hurt like a son of a bitch. Feel free to yell at Matt. After that, the stitches. Try not to pull away. Stare at the wall. Out the window. I don't care, but you are not watching me and throwing up on my work. And yes, before you ask, I have done this before."

All succinct and matter of fact.

Claire Temple has posed:
"She said something before about her men..." Claire replies as she clamps her eyes shut again and waits for the peroxide to do its work. When Elektra opens the bottle of alcohol, the smell is unmistakeable, and she stiffens and pulls away for a moment. It's a very difficult act of will for her to bring her shoulder forward for Elektra to apply the antiseptic, and while she doesn't look, she does indeed scream. She doesn't give up anything quite like words, and she definitely doesn't yell at Matt directly, but she has absolutely nowhere else for that pain to go but out through the vocal cords. And it does indeed.

When the burn subsides, her breathing becomes shallow while she waits for the first stick from the needle. "Her ninjas?" she spares for Matt. "Elektra, do you know some ninjas out there?" she asks, trying to fit in the words before the pinch.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt clutches Claire's shoulder as she screams. "Claire, focus, breathe," he says, he says before chuckling, "I guess I am going to have to teach you some of my bullshit meditations some time," he offers her with a grin.

Those questions though, they have that smile fading, "Hm," Matt says. "When did she say her men?" he asks her. He knew the answer and he felt like shit for obsfucating, but compared to the alternatives, it seemed like the lesser sin. As for Elektra knowing ninjas Matt just doesn't answer the question. "Try to focus on being calm," he advises softly.

Elektra has posed:
"Keep talking to her, Matthew. I'm busy here." It wasn't quite the truth. If he hadn't been there, she'd have kept up a soothing patter to distract Claire, but right now, if Matt distracted her, Elektra didn't have to fend off any of the awkward questions.

The pinch of the needle is, as expected, a sharp sting in Claire's arm. As is the slight pull as Elektra gently tugs the two edges of the wound together and works on knotting the silk thread. A square knot is made, and Elektra clips the threads with just enough lead on the silk before moving to make the next stitch.

Claire Temple has posed:
"It's all bullshit meditations," Claire huffs as the needle puts another tie into her upper arm. "Next time, I'll pour alcohol on you and we'll see about bullshit meditations..." She winces and hisses when Elektra pulls the suture.

"Yeah," Claire says before the next stick. "She's been fighting them longer, or something...?" She tucks her chin while she closes her eyes yet again. She's a mess, to be sure.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt grins faintly when his crack about the meditation is turned back on him. "See, you've moved on to advanced yelling with snark, can't be too bad," he says nodding towards the arm.

"Ah," Matt says shrugging a shoulder. "Well, we've only had ninjas on the menu for about a year ourselves. So, I figured any other perspective would be a good one."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra carefully, and methodically starts on the second stitch. As long Matt keeps running interference, she doesn't have to answer anything. It's a good system. Or so she hopes. She's no doubt Claire may still pin her down and ask things. However, as long as Elektra has the advantage of working on Claire's arm, it's a pretty good bet that the woman won't be looking her way.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Aww, geez, dammit," Claire fumes when she opens her eyes to glance quickly at the wound in her arm. Still going, still going... Damn, she's got to work on her endurance for this kind of shit. "Maybe we can call Danny, he could glow it back together? Y'think?" she asks while she stuffs her face into Matt's couch cushion, pushing her shoulder out toward Elektra while she tries to bury her eyes. The second stitch finishes with a lot of grumbling into the upholstery.

"Didn't know the ninjas were talking back and forth in Japanese with you guys," she says in a nasal voice around stuffed cartilage.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can't help but smile, "Oh, so the glowy hand thing is real but my meditations are bullshit, huh?" he asks teasing. Though it wasn't a half-bad idea. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, tells it to 'call Danny', it rings until it goes to voice mail. "Looks like we're out of magic options," he says as he hangs up.

"Anyhow, if the pillow thing doesn't do the job, I do have booze, my Dad swore by it for when he was getting stitched up," he offers kindly with just a hint of wry humour to the offer. Indeed, just what they needed was a drunk Claire yelling about ninjas.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra mutters underneath her breath, "Good luck with that," when it comes to Danny's hand. She'd both met with and fought the man. It was something of a they'd agreed not to kill one another thing. A small something of a smirk lighting on her lips when Matt's attempt to call the man fails.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Just get it over with," Claire grumps into the cushion, although the sound is something between clear speech and a cartoon sound effect. "And we never speak of this again... got that, Murdock?" she asks, lifting her head enough to clear her voice to look at Matt and accidentally glancing at Elektra's forceps... ohh, okay. Back into the cushion she shoves her nose. A "hmph" is heard.

"Do the people you fight with always get that talky?" Claire asks, tilting her head forward so she's practically talking into her shirt, but at least she's not speaking into a pillow. Sometimes progress is slow.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt can feel that smirk in Elektra's body language. "Want to give him a try?" he asks holding out the phone. It was a joke, and if she doesn't take it, the phone is lobbed gently to the coffee table.

"Sometimes," he says about the talky fighters. "Spider-man talks all the time when he fights. No idea what these guys were saying though, I never did get to the learn Japanese CD I bought."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra actually hhas to stop and give Matt a look of disbelief when he goes on about chatty superheroes and their nemesises. Of course she'd never stopped to think about it - Spirderman or anyone - chatting up their enemies while taking them out. In her line of work it was mostly silent.. Sometimes a hurled threat or curse. But once the fighting started it was usually serious business.

All of this was becoming slightly farcial. However, Claire was injured and in shock. There was still hope she wasn't tracking most of this clearly.

It was a faint hope Elektra wasn't sure was going to go anywhere.

Stich number three and four go in.

"Looks like four more, and we'll be done?" She nods to herself. Four. Possibly five.

Claire Temple has posed:
By now, Claire thinks she's becoming a pro. Yes, she's riding the hills on this roller coaster, and she'll be fine after another... four rounds. Possibly five. She sighs. After stitch four, she squirms around to where she started, eyes focusing on the leg of Matt's coffee table. She hums and loses the note when stitch five starts in.

"Elektra, you were speaking Japanese to them," she says as she contorts her mouth around the pain of stitch five being pulled through. "Right before I got... umm..." She coughs. "Matt, you have any water?" she asks, her face becoming slightly more pale.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt feels Elektra's look, and grins, "Spider-man can dodge bullets and lift armoured cars, he can afford to be chatty," he says. "Must be nice."

Matt's hand tightens on Claire's shoulder, "You're doing great," he tells her, before saying, "Sure."

He gets up for that water, asking Elektra, "You too?"

In the kitchen, Matt runs the tap, leaning with both hands against the sink, trying to use this moment to get a grip on the evening. Claire was hurt, Elektra was hurt, and he'd put Elektra in danger by demanding she follow his rules. He still didn't think he was wrong, but the guilt of it made his heart feel like lead in his chest. It was almost enough to make him sick.

Though, he pulls himself together, with a little bullshit meditation, breathe in, breathe out, move on, worry about this shit later, as Stick would say.

He gets the water or waters and makes his way back to the couch. "So, how are we doing?" he asks as he returns his struggle reduced to tiny little tells littered through his body language.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra nods to the offer of water. "Please."

She bends her head back over her stitching. "I learned when I was younger. My father was a diplomat. We travelled extensively." She doesn't address why the ninja was yelling at her in Japanese, or what or why she'd replied back.

The care she takes with the stitches is methodical and precise. Each is nearly a mirror of the one before. Spacing done with a fine eye to secure the wound and leave minimal scarring. When she'd said she'd done this before, it appeared Elektra wasn't lying.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Yeah... Ninjas weren't silent," Claire says as she reaches out her hand from the arm she's resting on to accept the water. A little bit of dried blood comes off her hand to color the side of the glass. It's a little bit of a banana maneuver for her to tilt her upper body up sideways between stitches to get a few gulps of water, but once she starts, she downs the fluids quickly. Her hand is shaking the glass toward the coffee table once she's done.

As for her other arm, she's being extremely careful about how she holds it, trying her very best not to pull anything. She comes back to rest with a quiet huff, and rolls her eyes around to watch Matt.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt hands over the water to Claire and puts the other glass down on the coffee table. "Need a hand?" Matt offers as he watches Claire try and contort herself to have a drink and not disturb the stiches going into her arm.

He crouches back down by the couch then, his expression, still a little distant, even as he deflects more of Claire's questions. "Like I was saying earlier, amateurs the real deal tend to do all their talking with blades and fists," he says.

His next words are spoken to Claire but are meant for them both, "Sorry you got caught up in this. It shouldn't have happened."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra looks up and gives Matt an acknowledging nod. His apology heard and accepted for what it's worth. Though it's truly Claire who deserves the apology - an apology Elektra can't rightly give without spilling the rest of her story.

Instead she murmurs to Claire, "This should heal up nicely." She's working on the last of the stitches now. "We should wrap it, but you'll want to let it get some air.. and I'm telling the nurse. You already know this."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire sighs happily -- as happily as she can, under true duress circumstances, she supposes -- as Matt helps her back to resting on her side. "Much appreciated," she says with a small nod and a pat to the side of his arm with her bloodied hand. She takes a deep breath at the apology.

"You do good work," she says after Elektra gives her instructions. "You should be getting to a nurse, yourself," she says with a frown. Her gaze flicks to Matt. "Not sure if..."

Daredevil has posed:
Elektra's nod and Claire's seeming growing ease, lessens the guilt but only a little. He settles back on his haunches when Claire's wounds are discussed, but when Elektra's are brought up, he turns his head in her direction, then tilts it. "They're definitely broken, the stiches, I can re do them if you want?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra remains leaned forward as she neatly puts the things that can be put away back in Matt's first-aid kit. It helps disguise the fact that her injury hurts, and has, in fact, been ripped further. Though she had forgotten about Matt. No amount of lying, or skill at it, could hide the scent he was getting.

He knew whether she wanted him to or not.

"Do I actually have a choice?" She doesn't sound pleased about matters.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire greets the completion of her sutures with all the grace she can muster into flopping onto her stomach on the couch... just because she can, even if she winces a little at her left wrist along the way. "Y'can have the couch if you want," she says, kicking out her left leg to start pulling herself off the cushions. "Easier job that way," she says, her voice beginning to slur. She yawns and blinks a few times, looking from Elektra to Matt and back.

Daredevil has posed:
Under normal circumstances Elektra's protest would get a smart ass reply, but in this case, he simply says, "You have a choice, but, they'll need looking at eventually." The rub there was by who, the usual Hand resources were likely a non-starter and the other shady backdoor docs, well they could talk.

When Claire begins sitting up, Matt stands and offers her his arm. "Easy," he says, and those yawns and blinks are met with a little frown, "Going to be okay?" he asks. "There's my bed if you want to lay down," a he turns his head Elektra's way. "If Elektra stays you can yell at us from there."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra sighs after a long moment of thought, because she knew exactly what her other choices were. And not having it looked at could mean a wound that wouldn't heal to allow movement. Or worse, a wound that didn't heal, or infected, or..

"See to Claire. I'm not going anywhere. Then you can deal with my back."

It wasn't the best of solutions, but it did give her a breather.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire reaches for Matt's arm, stiffly holding her stitched arm in place out of fear of disturbance. "You two can go ahead and do your own yellin'," she mutters. "I'm just going to go over here and take a nap..." She stands up and wobbles front-to-back for a second while she tries to avoid toppling into Elektra. It takes her a moment or two of shaking her head, but she's quickly leaning more weight on Matt's proffered arm. "Thank you," she says quietly as she takes a couple steps toward the bedroom.

"Add glue this time," she says over her shoulder as she lays down. "Seal it."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt nods, "Not impossible that we will," he says of him and Elektra yelling at one another. As he puts more weight on his arm he shifts to put an arm around her and keep her standing that way. "No problem," he says of his help and guides her to the bed to lay down. "Glue," he says, "Got it." He doesn't glance back, but his attention shifts to behind him as he waits for Elektra's reaction to that idea.

Elektra has posed:
Glue worked, though it had its disadvantages. She'd truly be slightly less mobile for a couple of days than the sutures would have afforded. However, the heal line would be neater, and at this point the damage to surrounding tissues would be less.

Knowing Matt is looking her way, wondering. She gives him a nod, as though he truly needed her assent on glue over stitches.

"Thank you, Claire." For the advice. And not making a bigger deal of the evening. Though that could still happen. The future was wide open on that one.

Daredevil has posed:
Once Claire is settled, Matt rises from the bed, pulling the covers up over her, then he makes his way back out to Elektra. "You heard the glue bit, right?" he asks. He had some in his medical kit, the stuff for plastic models that his dad used to swear by. "Your call," he says, coming to stand by her, and offering a quiet, "Thank you," to her for accepting his apology earlier. He knew a few words weren't going to make what he put her through alright, but he hoped it would be a start.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra by this time, has removed her dress, leaving her in bra and panties - her stockings also discarded. They're a tattered mess that there's no hope for.

"I've been injured before, Matthew," she murmurs. Indeed, she has. He has felt the scars. "I'm no stranger to glue." It was used in hospitals all the time. With the added bonus that it should be easier for him to get the best closure of her wound.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Matt to stitch her up, but of the two choices this one offered the easier outcome. Less time under his scrutiny.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt might have entertained the idea of getting Elektra out of that dress earlier this evening, but this way didn't cross his mind. Of course, there was nothing of romance in Matt to enjoy it now, as his attention goes to would rather than drinking in the whole of what is being displayed.

He can smell fresh blood and hears how the sttiches no longer pull anymore speaking of the break. He could tell more by touch, but he goes to the first aid kit and grabs gauze, alcohol and the glue.

"Lay down," he instructs gently. "Back towards me."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra does as she's instructed, lying on his couch face down so that her body is flat as possible for what he's about to do.

"You're going to have to remove the broken stitches. The others, too, possibly." Pausing before asking, "Is Claire asleep now?"

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire is dozing off, sprawled face-down under the covers on Matt's bed. She's not much concerned with being out cold in her street clothes, so long as there aren't pins and needles making their way back and forth through her soft tissues. She turns her head away from the living room and snakes an unstitched arm under a pillow to fall quickly asleep.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt nods and turns back to the kit to get the tweezers and scissors to remove the stiches. He lays them down beside her on the couch before he pauses, listening a moment then nods, "Yeah, she's sleeping," he says. "And, I'm going to need to take a look at things," he says, and by which he means touch the wound. And he does, but does it gently, his fingers able to tell so much from even the lightest touch, which stiches have broken, where the skin is sticky with blood and where it's clean. In all it takes a minute to build a mental picture in his mind. "Yeah, the stitches are going to have to go," he says. Then he reaches for the gauze and alcohol wetting the first with the second.

Before he dabs the gauze to the flesh, he asks, "So, tonight, what was that? A message?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra waits until he's done checking her wound before answering him.

"Obviously. I knew there was unrest. I didn't think they'd try anything overt like that. As least I had thought, well, clearly I didnt think I'd put you in danger. You or Claire."

She sighs, because now she will need to reevaluate that thought. Claire is perhaps okay. She'll be tagged most likely as an innocent bystander. Matt, however...

"I should have killed them. They won't stop."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt snorts at the obviously, "This'll sting," he says as he attends to cleaning the wound. He's gentle with it, but there's always a little discomfort.

"You warned me, and I didn't listen," he says of becoming a target. His stubbornness also lead to them knowing who he was.

"Who are they?" he asks. "I know, The Hand, but who in the Hand. Maybe we can get to them, stop this before it goes any further." Of course Matt's way of stopping them was exactly why this was a problem.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra can't even rub her temples or any other distraction at this point, given her position. And he's right. It stings, though she's dealt with worse.

"I don't know who precisely is responsible. I have guesses. But they're only that." His suggestion makes her laugh softly, if bitterly. "You don't understand, do you, Matthew?"

She turns her head to face outwards, towards him where he sits.

"I chased them for years. It's always been the same. They don't do conversations. At least not at the lower levels. I have no clue how far up it goes, and until I have a better idea, it's not a conversation I can engage in."

For all the obvious reasons, including going to the wrong person and insulting them, or worse, letting any of them know she's vulnerable when they might not know already.

Daredevil has posed:
The words sting, but Matt can't deny there's some truth of them. Even when he fought whatever portion of the Hand that had come to Hell's Kitchen before now, it had been like trying to cut through a bowl of marbles, whatever he did, more just rolled in to undo it. The same thing applied

Finishing cleaning the wound he sets aside the guaze and gets the scisors and tweezers, "This is going to sting more," he says, feeling at the stitches before clipping and removing them gently, one by one.

"So, clearly I don't understand, so, what do we do?" he asks her.

Elektra has posed:
"Clearly," Elektra says dryly of his understanding of how things are. "There is no we, Matthew. This isn't your fight. You and Claire.."

Elektra sighs. She's not entirely certain what she's going to do yet. Putting word out that they're untouchable ran the risk that the rogue element would have all suspicions confirmed. But not putting word out left them just as vulnerable. And she was still recuperating from the last pointed message she'd had to make over a dispute on leadership.

She braces for the next bit of wwork he's about to do. Stitch removing was uncomfortable at the best of times, though not usually painful. These, however hadn't finished healing, and were most definitely matted with blood and through swollen tissue. Elektra expected 'this is going to sting' was a polite way of putting it.

"Do what you have to."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt bristles, "You can't jus-" he begins, to protest before he stops himself. Not leaving her alone was what put her in their current mess. Still, what he'd done, turning her away forcing her to make this Faustian bargain with the Hand, that was his fault and the guilt of that burned in his chest like a hot coal demanding to be extinguished, it haunted his thoughts and his dreams. It was like he had swung months ago the blade that would eventually kill her.

His hands begin to shake and he sets down the tweezers, flexing his fingers and fighting to urge to stand and drive his fist into the heavy bag hung against the wall until the pain of his choices went numb again.

He realizes he's stopped speaking mid-sentence and flustered by it reaches for the tweezers drops them, "Sorry," he says clamping down hard on his feelings as he says "Anyhow, I think Claire's right about me, I'm selfish, I tell myself I want to help you but I keep getting in your way. That's going to kill you if I don't stop."

He makes his heads steady as he picks up the tweezers again and washes them with the rubbing alcohol.

"So, if you want me to, I'll stop, I'll get out of your way," he says, his attention resting on Elektra again. "Do you want me to?" he asks.

Elektra has posed:
Perhaps ill-advisedly, Elektra pushes herself up some leaning up on her elbows. "Just what sort of question is that, Matt? If I want you to?"

"Claire is totallly right. You think your beliefs outweigh everyone else's. That what you want somehow makes it so that anything anyone else does is not only wrong, but reason for you to judge them. What I want, Matthew, is you to not be such a martyr and actually *see* what it is that's going on here. This isn't some stupid little game where you can get up in the morning and walk to your law office and congratulate yourself on whatever it is you think you accomplished the night before. This is my life. I get to wake up tomorrow and still have to figure out how to make it from morning until evening without destroying either the things I love, or myself. And your stupid morals just made that a hell of a lot more difficult for me."

She shakes her head, and lowers herself back down.

Daredevil has posed:
"Easy," Matt says as she rises from the couch flinching as he smells fresh blood seeping from the wound. He stops it with fresh gauze not the stuff he'd soaked in alcohol.

Matt, for once actually listens when Elektra speaks. Of course his morals were better, they were God's morals, he'd just carven them into his heart. He's wise enough to catch himself before he says that, though his mouth open and hand raises before he does. He shuts his mouth again after that and just makes himself listen.

"I don't agree with everything you said, but, you do have a point, I haven't taken your situation with the care it deserves."

He takes a breath. This was hard for him and several fundamental parts of who he was were screaming to him that it was wrong, but he was good at shutting out the things he didn't want to hear so, he carries on.

He asks, "How do I help you then? How do I make things easier instead of harder?"

Elektra has posed:
When he tells her 'easy', she winces. She knows why he's saying it. She can feel the tug along her back.

"Of course you don't agree," Elektra tells him with broken mirth. The words bitter little things coming from her. "You still want to believe you're right. You still want to believe that somehow you either get to save the day, or everything is your fault. As long as you get to suffer or laud yourself for what you're doing. You're not just selfish, Matthew, you're blind. And I don't mean that in the hey I had an accident when I was younger way either."

Her voice lowers some. "I don't know how you help. I don't know if there was ever a way for you to help. Some days I wish I'd never gone to that party to meet you."

Daredevil has posed:
"Told you," Matt says as she winces. He checks the gauze, fortunately there's not much blood, he reaches for the glue as they begin speaking of the other topic and he holds it throughout the wound forgotten by the end of it.

There is a laugh that's barely more than a sharp breath at Elektra's mirth. He rolls his neck, "Heh, I never do this to laud myself Elektra. This isn't about me, it's about what's right." He doesn't argue the suffering, though.

"Alright, when you know, if there's a way to-" he stops short.

"What?"

He couldn't have heard that right. "The party tonight? Or the one where we met? Because it sounds like the latter. But you were there with what's his name until you got bored." Until he'd provided a better alternative.

Elektra has posed:
"No, Matthew, this is about what's right for you. You don't think about anyone else in that small little world of yours. Your one god is *your* one god. Not everyone's. You're not better than I am because you don't kill, or because you suffer."

She's angry enough she didn't catch herself. The lingering effects of alcohol and adrenaline, and quite likely some pale memory of shock of her own, leavinng her off her game just enough that she didn't notice what she'd said. At least not until he questions her..

"The party tonight," she lies, teeth gritted together tightly in hopes he'll think it's her injury that has her on edge.

Daredevil has posed:
"I never said I was better than you, Elektra. And my god, is everyone's god," Matt says, for a guy who told everyone he was Catholic like Danny told people he was the Iron Fist, Matt didn't talk much about his beliefs. "And I don't suffer to make myself feel superior, I do it so others don't have to."

Claire's probably rolling her eyes in her sleep.

Matt was ready to believe her, that it was tonight's party she meant not the one years ago, but her heartbeat didn't lie.

"What? Saw me in class and decided you wanted to hit that?" he asks her. That'd be the simple solution, but as things begin to click, he finds that theory didn't hold water. He'd always found it lucky Elektra, who wasn't one for jewelry had been wearing those heavy gold bracelets that night.

"Why were you there?" he asks.

Elektra has posed:
"So others don't have to?" Elektra chuckles, the sound both tired and disbelieving. Though, for someone who took on the leadership of the Hand to temper them and mitigate the worst of their activities, perhaps she doesn't have much outrage to stand upon here.

When he doesn't accept her lie, she's not surprised. Were it any other than him, she'd push, continue the story. But it's Matt, and he knows her better than anyone, and he knows things he shouldn't just by virtue of who he is.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers for, Matthew," Elektra cautions him. "Just let it be."

Daredevil has posed:
"Yes," Matt insists. "Why do you think I do all of this?" he asks, his voice raising. "I know you think it's some meaningless game, but I help people." She did too, now on some sort of twisted industrial scale harm reduction level. For his part, Matt was more boutique in his approach to helping people. Though, he does add, "And I know so do you."

There is a moment, just a moment, where Matt wonders if any of it was real with her, but that thought dies a quick death. Too much had passed between them for it all to be lies.

After learning about the Hand, he finds he can't force himself to ask what new secret Elektra is keeping, but there is an answer that he does want to hear. "Whatever it was at the start," he says. "When did it change?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra releases a breath she's not been aware she's been holding. When he lets it go - doesn't push for the story she isn't sure she can ever tell him... even if it's telling would solve so much of this by sending him irrevocably away - she exxhales slowly, so much of her tension just easing away.

"I don't know," she tells him quietly. "When we took that car that first evening, I think I saw glimmers of it there in your response. You were studying law and we stole a car." Even now the memory makes her laugh softly. "I didn't plan on it, Matthew. It just happened."

Memory leaves her with the faintest of smiles upon her lips. "I think.. remember the first time we went to Fogwell's? You broke the window to the door, and immediately said how you were going to pay for it later. I remember thinking how.. you. And then later, when I finally provoked you into revealing your secret? It was like a whole new world opened up for me. You were someone I could be myself with."

She makes a soft sound underneath her breath. "Or so I thought. In the end, that's what broke us, wasn't it? Me being me."

Daredevil has posed:
Matt hears that exhale and knows whatever her secret is it must be bad. He considers changing his mind and pressing for it until they start talking about their past. Then it doesn't matter so much any more.

He chuckles, its a warm sound, happier than Matt ususally lets himself be. "To be fair, I thought it was yours until you said, 'until we get caught'," he says. "By then it was already too late." It was a lie, the smile gives it away. Indeed he'd never have asked her if it was hers if he'd thought it was, he'd found the thrill of it all exciting.

Matt grins, rubbing his jaw, thinking back to the night at the gym. "Yeah, I remember," he says. "That was a good night. When did you figure it out by the way? My secret?" he asks. "It was good to let it out."

He shakes his head, "No, well maybe," he pauses. "Sharing my secret, knowing I could trust you, it meant the world to me, it'd been years since anyone else knew. And I was glad you trusted me, too. I just wish things could have been different."

Elektra has posed:
There's a low laugh from Elektra, remembering. "It could have been my car. It isn't like I didn't have the money for one." He might know her eyes are glittering with mirth, remembering. "It still could have been my car. I think I knew however you reacted to that answer was going to tell me all I needed to know."

Her features gentle some, a thing she rarely allows. "It was a very good night. And I don't know. There were so many little things. You forget, I was trained to read people, Matthew. The average person wouldn't care, or notice. Just too much ease in unfamiliar places. Small hesitations where it seemed like you were stopping yourself from reaching out for a thing. Maybe just your confidence."

There's another chuckle. "It was.. I wish things had been different, too. But they weren't. I fell in love with you. And that, as they say, was that. Our worlds should never have collided, but they did."

Daredevil has posed:
"Uh-huh," Matt says about how the car could have been hers. Not that she lacked the money for it, but, even then she didn't strike him as the type to care about fancy toys, they were trappings, things used and discarded. So it made sense the car was either borrowed or stolen. When he'd asked, he hoped for stolen, "Your answer told me a lot too," he grins.

He nods, her words, soothing some of his fears, she'd read it in him, she hadn't known. Of course, that he doesn't check, focus on the sound of her heart, speaks volumes. He wanted to believe. "Took a lot on faith there, with that kick at my face," he says. "Could have been embarassing, me laid out in the ring bleeding on the mat." That didn't seem out of the ordinary though, Elektra was confident. She trusted her instincts or she died.

"Yeah," he says, about the past, the memories were bitter sweet, and only heightened the pain caused by their current circumstances. "I fell in love with you too," he says, before smiling a touch self-effacingly. "Still worth it. Despite all of this. All worth it."

Elektra has posed:
"Well, it could have been my car," Elektra repeats. Even though it wasn't. And it had been all those things that had spelled it out more fully than anything to her.

"I suppose," she agrees. "I actually wasn't sure if you'd let me make contact or not. You move fast. You've always moved fast." Like tonight in the alley. He'd certainly saved her further injury. And Claire. It only driving home to Elektra what a fool she'd been drowning her anger in alcohol. - Her sorrows, too, she had to admit. Once again she'd fallen into the same trap of loving the man when she knew it wasn't possible. Now more than ever it wasn't possible..

"Oh, Matt. What are we even doing here? Why couldn't you have made this all simple and forgotten about me?"

Daredevil has posed:
"Well it was until we ditched it outside of Josie's," Matt says of the car. He wondered if the guy who owned it ever got all his tires back. He shrugs.

"I had a good teacher," Matt says. "Plus, I learned the hard way, was a real pain in the ass as kid, bigger kids hated me, had to learn to duck." It was more than that though, Matt had raw talent, a natural fighter. Good thing too, given how things went tonight.

He gives her a moment with her thoughts finding the glue again, her question draws out a sad smile, "Trying to make things eaiser," he says of what they were doing. "Not sure if it's working or not." He loved those memories and sharing them now with Elektra, it made him smile, made the gulf between then and now less far and deep. It didn't fix anything but it helped ease his pain.

He offers another of those exhaled laughs, "When have I ever done things the simple way?" he asks her.

Elektra has posed:
"I don't suppose we get easy. Though it doesn't seem fair, does it?" It's really the first time she's made any voicing to that effect - of regrets. "We were always from different worlds. I suppose I wanted to believe for a time that they could be the same."

She'd been led to believe that they had that potential. To this day she didn't know why Stick had sent her there to meet him. Why he'd only dropped what bits he had about the man. Why when he had to have known who and what Matthew was - not just the fighter, but the rest of it. It had never made sense to her.

All she truly knew was she was never meant to fall in love with him... And she had.

Daredevil has posed:
The regrets take Matt by surprise, he shared them but he never expected Elektra to voice them, guess it was a night of change for both of them. "No, it's not," he says. "And yeah," he makes a dry noise that could be a laugh. "Very different worlds, even if you take away the other stuff. It sounded nice though, when we thought we could make it work."

It would have been a vert different life than the one he led now, travelling, living off Elektra's money doing what they liked. It was a dream he sometimes came back to, a what if for when things got hard, but it was always going to be that, a dream. Even if the gulf between them were sealed, he had his life here, he couldn't walk away from it, not easily.

Despite the impossibility of it, he still loved her though. He doubted that would ever change.
He smiles sadly, "Whatever happens, with us, with the Hand, I'll be there for you if you need me," he promises.

Elektra has posed:
"Lovely words, Matthew," she says after a silence. "But can you make that promise?"

Of all the things she had and had not done, he was her single regret. For so many reasons. And, like always, there was no way out of this one. Not without one or both of them changing fundamentally. And certainly not while she controlled the Hand. Only, one did not just walk away from the Hand, and they both knew it.

"You know this never ends well, Matthew. The only way I ever leave is dead. I know what I did when I accepted the offer. I knew what it would mean. Only you were never, no, we were never going to be what either of us wanted.

She lifts her head and nods with her chin for him to finish up with her back.

"It would have been a lifetime of fighting them." Maybe things would have been different if..

And there she had no answers. If Stick hadn't disappeared? If he'd made sense of whatever it was he'd told her all her life? If he'd explained Matthew's part in the puzzle? If there even was a puzzle.

"Protect your friends, Matthew. Do what I can't do for them." For you, she wanted to say, only the words caught in her throat.

Daredevil has posed:
"Yes, Elektra, I'll be there. Whatever happens."

He meant every word of that promise, even knowing it could mean his death. He'd done this, he'd set it in motion when he turned his back. He'd killed her.

"I don't know, I hade hope for us still," he says quietly. "This is where I make some joke about hopeless causes," he remarks, before shaking his head, it didn't soun so funny anymore. "I'm sorry I turned my back on you, when we were in college, and when you came to me with the contracts, if I hadn't been so stubborn none of this would have happened," he offers he puts his hand on her back, feeling the warmth of her under his hand, confirming for himself she was still alive. He couldn't give up hope even as he accepted what they faced was hopeless, it pulled at him from all directions.

"I'll try," he says of protecting his friends. "But I they're better off without me, safer."

He moves his hand to the wound, "Anyhow, I should take care of this."

Elektra has posed:
"St. Jude," Elektra says with a bitter edge to her voice. "Funny that's the one Saint I know. Hopeless causes."

She stills under his touch, letting his hand warm on the skin there. Feeling the warmth of his skin in return.

"We've been down this road too many times, Matthew. We both want what we can't have. We both want what we'd learn to hate if we got it. Maybe that's the beauty in this. Or why we can't let go. Perpetually Sisyphus."

She knew why he did it, him with his Catholic guilt. She just didn't know why she did it.

"Your friends need you. Or maybe it's easier to say you need them." Though she nods when he speaks of her back. Every word from this point on is just rubbing salt in wound they can no longer remember which of them inflicted. The sooner he's done, the sooner she can leave. The sooner they can end this. The sooner he can play requiems for her and move on with his life, even if the thought of that brought an angry clench to her gut.

Daredevil has posed:
"You should," Matt says. "He's my saint, picked him at Confirmation when I was a kid," he says with small smile filled with irony plays about his face. "Guess I saw all this coming," he says of his love of hopeless causes. Indeed, even then he was a champion for the weak, taking down the bullies even if he got beat up doing it.

He doesn't pull the hand away when she tenses, "It was just something I needed to do, to see you were-" it sounded stupid when he thought about saying it. "I'm not looking to repeat past hurts," he says.

Even if he wanted to.

"I like to think it's deeper than that," he says. "But I see your point."

The part about his friends, gets a quiet, non-comittal nod, he wasn't sure any more. He'd failed Elektra trying to help her, how long until he failed his friends too, or the city. He was not usally a man for doubts, but tonight? The had them firmly in his grip.

"I'll get this done," he says lifting the glue again. He's gentle with it, the mending of her wounds, as gentle as he can be anyhow, holding together the parts of her while the glue set.

"There," he says when he's satisfied. "I think it should hold if you're not moving around a lot." He keeps his words spare, feeling like she had that any more talk would just lead to more pain.

Elektra has posed:
And then it's done. All need to talk or linger over, and there's nothing more to do but get dressed and take her leave. She's silent about it, too, getting up and pulling her dress on, tugging it over her hips and smoothing it down. Her shoes gathered up and held in one hand.

This part was always inevitable.

Elektra pauses at the doorway, and looks for a moment like she might say something. Only she doesn't. She just shakes her head and lets herself out, allowing the door to close itself behind her.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt let's Elektra leave without comment. There was nothing he could say that would make a difference, change the circumstances of their lives. Even so, when the door closes he follows her with his senses until she finally, inevitably fades from their reach.

Even then, there's no words, he rises, puts away his medical kit, stowing it in the bathroom before he makes his way back out to the living area. His senses rest on the couch, it still smelt of Elektra, had her warmth, he was tempted to lay down, drink it in until that too faded. But instead, he moves to one of the chairs, sinking down. He already knew he wouldn't sleep, so he rests the backs of his hands on his knees and meditates, dealing with the pain of Elektra's leaving he same way he managed other hurts, by locking them away.