AN: I know I should be updating my other story, but I just watched Season 1 of Daredevil on Netflix in one day as therapy for the emotional damage caused by Avengers Age Of Ultron, and honestly, if my new OTP doesn't become endgame canon I will be writing a very, very, angry and sappy letter to the scriptwriter of this show and to Marvel. For now, I'll just let out my pain with a little angsty, oneshot-but-maybe-multi-chapter fic. Title creds and chapter title creds to the beautiful Lana Del Rey, who's music I think almost perfectly fits Matt and Claire's relationship with it's moody, dark, cinematic tone and gorgeous, hopeless romantic lyrics.
"Hey Claire? You in there?" She cautiously peeked out of the viewing glass in her door, gun drawn behind her back. The apartment building superintendent was standing outside, fiddling with a piece of snow white paper in his aged and chubby hands.
Claire quickly placed the gun back down on a side table, tucking it under the frayed edge of a thick curtain. She opened the door, moving aside to let them in.
"How can I help you, Johnson?" His expression turned oddly apologetic, a weird pulsing in his throat putting her on edge.
"Sorry I have to do this, but-" Before she could respond, a stunning pain echoed through her head and the world went black.
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She came to chained to a column, her eyes slowly fluttering open. Almost automatically, her hands started struggling against the metal, her vocal cords working furiously to let out a resounding scream.
Hot tears ran down her face, mixing with the blood matted in her hair as she struggled against the concrete structure. Useless, she raged in her mind. Absolutely fucking useless! With another cry, she slightly bent open a single link in the chain keeping her captive, weakening her bonds.
Sharp footsteps echoed in her cranial space, a suited man with an ordinary face and chestnut brown hair came into view.
"Hello, Miss Temple. Mr. Fisk sends his regards." The man's gloved hand came in contact with her cheek, and she saw stars.
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Claire came to a second time, having been doused in ice cold water and violently shook awake, her bruised skull coming in contact with the column with a few resounding thuds.
A phone was jammed between the crook of her black-and-blue neck and her swollen, bloody ear.
"Here are your options, Miss Temple-" Before the man could go on, she spit in his face, blood and mucus staining his perfectly tailored, crisp suit.
In response, he reached around her, grabbing her left pinky finger. A second later, screams fought to make their way out of her throat as it hung broken, creamy white bone stark against her crimson and caramel flesh.
"Option number one. You call 'Daredevil' using the phone we have so generously provided for you. You tell him whatever will make him-" The man paused for a moment.
"Ah, 'Whatever will hurt him the most'. Mr. Fisk's words, not mine. After you have done so, I will put a bullet in your head. Clean and easy." He smiled, his lips as thin as a knife's sharpened edge.
"Option number two, and by far my personal favorite. You don't call 'Daredevil", we will draw and quarter you, that is to say, we will attach your limbs to four separate cars and slowly rip you into four separate chunks, and spread what's left around the city for your masked lover to come and find. Now, which one will you pick?"
"Why the hell should I take orders from you-" Her right pinky cracked, mimicking her other hand.
"One, or two?"
"Fuck you, Suit And Tie." The man sighed, as if scolding a petulant child, before bring his foot up and stomping down on her right foot. Her back arched against the concrete in pain, eyes wide open, tears cleaning her bloodstained face.
"One, or two?"
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He pressed dial for her.
After a moment, the phone began to ring, the vibrations jostling what was probably a complex fracture in her skull.
Claire prayed under her breath, murmuring nonsensical words to God, to Jesus, that Matt Murdock, for once in his goddamned life, wouldn't pick up her call. That he would ignore her, that he was working a case or on a date and wasn't available at this time.
Just her luck, she thought, as the sound of the phone on the other end being picked up went through her eardrums.
"Uh, hey Claire. What's up?" The gun leveled at her forehead made it hard to concentrate on keeping her tone level, but feeling the barrel nudging against her bruises encouraged her to press forward.
"Not much, really. How're you doing? Haven't seen you around in awhile." Her voice quivered on the last syllable, the man's finger coming to press slowly down on the trigger of the revolver, as if to signify his displeasure with her performance.
"Claire, are you alright? You sound kind of-" She quickly threw out a hoarse laugh, trying to distract Matt from the pain in her breath.
"No, no I'm fine. Just bumped into a counter at home. You busy tonight?" He paused on the other side, clearly thrown off by her question. Claire's mind registered the increasing pressure in which the man was holding the gun against her head. She could hear Matt stuttering, trying to formulate a response.
The seconds left she had alive ticked down in her ears, as quick as her heartbeat. Matt taught me that, she thought absentmindedly.
"I love you, you know that?"
"You- uh- what?"
"I love you. Seems I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with you after all."
"Claire- I don't understand-"
"I love you."
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Matt chuckled at another one of Foggy's failed jokes, groping around his desk for the bagel he heard Karen place down not a few moments ago.
His bony hands finding their prize, he carefully positioned the bread at his lips and-
His phone beeped.
Claire.
Foggy muttered something about 'his girls', but good-naturedly left the room to give him some privacy.
He stared at where he supposed the screen was for a few moments, letting it ring one, two, three times, conflicting emotions, love, pain, angst, bubbling and battling within him.
Just before the call could go to voicemail, he picked up.
"Uh, hey Claire. What's up?" Almost as soon as he spoke the words, he regretted the awkward undertone he delivered them with and his rather poor word choice for the first time in months he'd spoken to the woman he loved.
She took a deep breath on the other end, and began speaking, her breath running too fast, her voice containing a particular little quiver he wished he couldn't identify as pain.
"Claire, are you alright? You sound kind of-" She cut him off before he could finish.
"No, no I'm fine." He imagined her smiling at him from across the city, waving her hand to pacify his concern even though he wasn't there/
"Just bumped into a counter at home. You busy tonight?" He dropped the bagel back down into the plate on his lap. What?
He tried to formulate some kind of response, his heart loudly speeding up in response to what sounded like feeling returned?
She kept talking, as though being pushed by someone, that little quiver only growing larger.
"I love you, you know that?" His mind ran a blank. He blindly glanced around the room, in shock at what Claire had said to him a second earlier.
"You- uh- what?"
"I love you. Seems I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with you after all." He could hear her stutter through the words, like she was injured and going through shock, like she was trying to say something important, something that had only been said in red, red dreams late at night. Like she hadn't just walked out of his life with a "I can't fall in love with a guy like you." Like he wasn't completely and utterly in love with Claire Temple, night nurse.
"Claire- I don't understand-"
"I love you." His girl sobbed out on the other side of the phone, his mind coming to a single conclusion.
"CLAIRE! Are you alright?" He caught a smack and a whimper from her side of the call.
"CLAIRE!" A gunshot was the last thing he heard before the call hung up.
AN: Is it good? Should I continue? I had a couple other endings for this written out, but this one has the most 'positive', so to speak, ending, that also leaves it wide open for expansion.
Please, please drop me a review if you think so! Thank you so much, and know that every review encourages me to type another word for another fic :D
-hvrcules