what they wouldn't do | DAREDEVIL

chapter fourty three

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The night before the fundraiser was Sarah's last night staying at Matt's apartment before moving back in to her own.

Because of this, he really had intended to only go out as Daredevil for a short while, wanting to come back early enough that she'd still be awake. He was only going out because he'd gotten wind that there was a meeting happening with some people he'd been very keen to find in relation to a drug ring he'd been tracking. The plan had been to check it out, stay out of sight, and get what information he could to lead him to their higher-ups.

But of course, things so rarely went according to plan, which was how Matt ended up thudding tiredly down the roof access stairs in his apartment at three in the morning with a splitting headache, a wrenched shoulder, bruised ribs and a painful stretch of road rash across most of the left side of his torso. But at least, he thought to himself wryly, he'd gotten the information he'd gone for.

Matt fumbled a few aspirin out of the bottle he kept on the kitchen shelf and swallowed them dry, too tired to bother getting any water to chase them with. He knocked the bottle over as he set it down, sending it rolling off the counter and away from him, the skittering sound of pills spilling out across the floor. He ignored it and braced himself against the kitchen counter with both hands, bowing his head as he tried to concentrate on his breathing and calm the pounding in his skull. If he could just rid of that, it would be easier to focus on tending the rest of his injuries.

He was still concentrating on his breathing when he felt something bump against his hand. He jerked his head up with a start, suddenly becoming very aware of the presence of another person in the kitchen.

Sarah was standing close by, but with a few careful feet of space between them. Matt frowned when he realized what had bumped his hand was the half-empty bottle of aspirin, which she had gently rolled towards him across the counter to get his attention.

"I was saying your name, but you weren't responding," she said hesitantly.

It occurred to Matt with a faint pang of guilt that she'd kept her distance because she was possibly remembering the last time she'd accidentally taken him by surprise, and the massive bruise she'd gotten as a result.

"Sorry," Matt murmured. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Reassured that Matt was safely lucid, Sarah closed the space between them. Her hands moved over him as she inspected the state of his injuries, and he heard her breathing catch as she brushed her fingers over the torn fabric of his shirt, where the skin was scraped angry and raw underneath. She pushed her hair out of her face and swallowed, then shook her head.

"I'll get the kit," she said quietly, her voice raspy from sleep.

She ducked into the bathroom to grab the first aid kit, and Matt tugged his mask and gloves off and tossed them aside. He slowly reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head—a task that he was less than enthusiastic about, given the battered state of his ribcage. Sure enough, he got the fabric about halfway up his torso before his ribs protested with a sharp, stabbing pain.

Sarah hurriedly set the kit on the table and reached to help him.

"Ribs," was his short, wincing explanation.

"Okay," she murmured. "Are you able to lift your arms a little more?"

"The right one more than the left," he said. "Shoulder's a little..."

He trailed off, not needing to explain much more. She'd already seen him hurt that same shoulder numerous times, wrenching it until it was just short of dislocated—and occasionally until it actually was dislocated—over and over again.