what they wouldn't do | DAREDEVIL

chapter ten: calm before

             MATT BREATHED DEEPLY AND TRIED to keep as still as possible on the couch while he waited for Foggy to arrive. He knew he should be trying to meditate, but he was having difficulty keeping his mind off of the events of the night.

         He could only remember bits and pieces from his first bout of consciousness, starting with coming to very suddenly on his couch and not knowing how he got there. Sounds were incredibly loud, coming from all directions in a confusing jumble. He remembered not being able to tell the difference between his own frantic heartbeat and Sarah's as he trapped her small frame against the doorway. Beyond that it was mostly snatches of confused senses. His head pounding with confusion and pain. Sarah's anxious voice going in and out as he tried to stay steady. The metallic smell of blood getting stronger. And then a gentle, hesitant hand on his waist and one on his arm, slowly guiding him back to the couch. A calm voice speaking quietly and indistinctly, keeping him anchored to his surroundings. Then the rough feel of the couch cushions on his back, and deep blackness after that.

         Matt's second return to consciousness had been more gradual, less jarring. Sarah had been jumpy, nervous in the way she usually only was if he was directly threatening her. He couldn't remember what he'd done to hurt her, but obviously he had. She was bleeding somewhere on her back, and she'd moved away from him as soon as he'd woken up again. But for some inexplicable reason she was still there anyway, having chosen to stick around—albeit at a safe distance—instead of make a clean exit while he was passed out. Even more inexplicable had been her reluctant offer to stitch him up.

         He idly ran his fingers over the stitches that tracked over his shoulder and down his chest. The process had gone about as well as could be expected, given their history. But things had still been tense. When he had reached out to lightly catch her arm, he had been careful to stay far away from the area he had bruised so badly not too long ago. Even so, she had flinched at his touch like he was about to strike her, and somehow he had found it more difficult than usual to tamp down the guilt.

         Matt had grown used to Claire's healing ministrations: gentle and steady, always calm despite the situation. Sarah's first aid attempts couldn't be more different. Where Claire was composed and firm, Sarah was nervous and uncertain. Her hands had been shaking slightly, and her long hair brushed against his chest as she worked, no matter how many times she pushed it back over her shoulder. Each time she did, he was hit with a strange combination of her usual citrusy scent mixed with the scent of his own soap and water and blood. The clash of the two worlds had been disconcerting, to say the least.

         In fact, it was still disconcerting, and he wondered if part of the reason he was having trouble meditating was due to her scent lingering in several areas of his apartment. She had obviously snooped around a bit while he was unconscious, so who knew what else about his personal life she had discovered, on top of everything that Foggy had told her. The whole night left him feeling like they had crossed a line of some sort, and he wasn't sure if they were going to be able to go back.

         Matt took a deep breath, trying to focus on healing and not on the pain shooting through his body, and especially not on the confusion and guilt filling his head.

         He wasn't sure how long he sat on the couch, chasing guilty thoughts and justifications around in circles in his head while trying to keep perfectly still to avoid more pain. After a while, he heard Foggy's familiar footsteps approaching the front door, and then the key in the lock. Matt had given Foggy a key not long after they had reconciled, just in case...well, in case something exactly like last night happened.