First, I apologize to everyone who has been telling me to finish some other stories I have on the go. I promise to finish them. Real life (that nasty thing) stepped in and my fanfic fell by the wayside.
Thanks to my beta reader who is now writing as girlwithoutfear. Damn, ain't she good at writing about Matt Murdock. AND she's my beta reader... I am very possessive of her now that her time is limited.
This is my third Daredevil Christmas story. I hope it meets your approval.
Christmas Promises
"Deck the halls with boughs of holly.
Fa la la la la la la la la."
"Sing some more and you'll be sorry,
Bah hum hum hum hum hum hum hum bug."
Both teens burst out laughing, their voices echoing up the stairway to do combat with the carols that rolled down from the Christmas party above. Jerry Bachman and Matt Murdock had escaped the end of year get together at the Lighthouse for the Blind. Jerry said he'd die without a cigarette and Matt tagged along before he got roped into dancing with all the little old ladies in his Braille class. The stink of one brand of cigarette was so much better than gagging on twelve different aromas of perfume, powder and plain old sweat that clung to the Braille biddies.
"Sure you don't want to try a coffin nail?" Jerry chided his goody two shoes friend. "You must have some bad habits to take to the priests in confession." A sly laugh escaped Jerry, "Or maybe being a good looking boy in a small box with a supposed celibate is your bad habit."
"Get your dirty mind out of the gutter, Bachman," Matt swatted his friend, purposely connecting with Jerry's head instead of his shoulder.
"Watch it, blind boy; remember I can still see that hair of yours; that alone makes you an easy target." Jerry pulled his red lensed glasses down his nose. He might only have peripheral vision, but it was enough to aim a well-placed smack on Murdock's carroty head. Taking another drag on his cigarette, he shifted so he could get a better look at his friend, Matt Murdock. Matt was always clean and neat, but a little frayed at the edges. Jerry knew Matt's dad didn't make much money prize fighting. Jerry's dad said Battlin' Jack Murdock became a 'has been' before he was ever a 'was'. "What you doing for Christmas, Matt?"
"Same old, same old," Matt ducked his head away from his friend. "I guess." It had only been a few months since one selfless act thrust him into unending darkness. He was getting used to the dark; it was everything that went with it that made life suck.
Matt was quiet too long and Jerry decided to supply some noise. "Matt, you gotta get your Dad married to a nice Jewish girl. When my parental units divorced they both married goys, pardon my insults, and now I get two Chanukahs and two Christmases. Dad and Step-Mommy Darla are taking me to Miami Beach to visit my Bubbie, that's Grandma to you."
Matt laughed, "my Dad is never gonna get married again. He never stopped loving my mom, I guess. He's waiting for me to supply him with grandchildren."
"Yeah, blind sex is the best thing about Braille lessons," Jerry leered, "puts a whole new spin on let your fingers do the walking."
"As if you knew."
"Says who? I am a man of the world, Murdock." With that Jerry launched himself at Matt and the two wrestled, laughing until the staff kicked them out to go head home.
0o0o0
'Thwap' 'thwap' the long white cane hit each riser on the four floors of stairs up to Matt Murdock's home.
"Mattie," Aunt Grace's high, piping voice stopped Matt when he hit the landing. "Your Dad called, he got a job sparring tonight at the gym. How about you come to my place for supper tonight?"
Matt smiled for his almost aunt, "I can manage, Aunt Grace."
"I know you can," the elderly neighbour answered quickly, "but I want some intelligent company tonight."
"Okay, Aunt Grace, I just have to drop off my stuff."
Matt slipped the key straight into the lock and listened to the click of the tumblers falling and the snap of the deadbolt sliding open. He never noticed these sounds before 'the accident' but now they meant home to him. He didn't bother emptying his knapsack; he simply dropped it on the bed and turned around to Grace Lynch's place.
"Okay, what's for dinner," Matt grinned as he walked to her door.
"Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, so get in here before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am," carefully, with one arm positioned horizontally shoulder high and the other waist high in front of his solar plexus Matt headed to the dinner table. He knew Aunt Grace's place just as well as his own home but Matt didn't want to bump into anything. He had visions of breaking one of the little ceramic dogs that covered almost every surface here.
"So, how was the party?" Grace used a little extra force putting the plate in front of Matt so he wouldn't have any trouble finding it. It sounded like she was smashing the old dishes every time she did this, but Matt knew Aunt Grace was just trying to be helpful.
"Not too bad. Lots of Christmas carols, enough cookies, candies and cake to rot every tooth in the Kitchen, and a visit from Santa." He laughed out loud. "Did you know Santa is a blind guy that smells like mothballs?"
Aunt Grace joined in the laughter. "Does that mean Santa uses a seeing eye reindeer?"
"Yeah, the red nose replaces the red tip that's on the bottom of the cane." Matt loved Aunt Grace. She never babied him much when he was small and she didn't now. He knew he would be helping with the dishes after supper because he always had before. Aunt Grace was the only person Matt could joke with about being blind. Everybody else got too nervous and quiet and his Dad just got sad.
"For someone who was at an adult and kiddie party, you smell like an ashtray. That time I went to the Lighthouse with you I seem to remember it being smoke free."
Matt had the good grace to look sheepish, "Jerry and me hung out in the stairwell."
"Matthew Murdock," Grace's usually soft voice was hard, "if a cigarette has entered your mouth this is the last time any of my cooking does."
His hands flew up, "no, that's Jerry Bachman. I promised Dad I'd never smoke. He'd knock my block off." Matt switched to a imitation of Jack Murdock's gravelly voice. "It's bad for ya wind, Mattie, it's bad for ya."
"Your father's right. Well, finish up and then it's dishes and homework."
0o0o0
Matt hunched into his too tight sweater and shoved open the heavy metal door that lead to the roof. As usual it creaked on its rusty hinges and scraped the pebbled tar outside. Covered with litter and snow, the roof still represented the top of his world. It had always his special place, among the clotheslines, flower pots and broken chairs where Matt would lay outside and look at the Manhattan skyline glowing overhead.
"Matthew Murdock, what are you doing sneaking up here?"
"Aunt Grace!" A startled Matt banged his knuckles on the latch and jumped back. If Grace hadn't been there he would have fallen backwards down the stairs. She caught Matt and managed to stop them both from falling further.
"Matt, I saw you coming up here, no coat, no cane and definitely no sense. What do you want to do; walk off the roof or catch pneumonia?"
"I… uh… I… darn, I just wanted to think."
"And you can't think at home." Matt's face flashed surprise, embarrassment and then annoyance. "Okay, Matt, you can think anywhere you want to, but its cold out there. How about you come and think in my place?"
"So you can look after me again?"
"No," Aunt Grace sighed. "How about you take me out to the diner for a cup of coffee?"
"I can't." Matt turned and kicked the wall. "I don't have a job any more. I don't have money for coffee or…"
"Christmas presents?"
The boy seemed to deflate before her eyes, "yeah."
"Come to my place, we'll talk about it logically." Grace turned and headed to her home. "And get there soon. You walked up two floors to get here; you can walk down two floors to my place all by yourself too. Knock first; I don't leave my door unlocked in this neighbourhood."
Grace pulled out her old percolator and had started brewing some strong coffee when Matt knocked on the door. "Who is it?"
"Aunt Grace," the boy whined like a four year old, "let me in."
"Only if you talk to me and I don't mean table talk that fills the air with noise and doesn't mean a damn thing." Grace opened her door to see Matt without the heavy black glasses that covered his ruined eyes for the first time. It wasn't the scars or cataracts that stopped her, but the pain that filled the boy's eyes. She did the only thing she could do; Grace Lynch grabbed Matt Murdock into a huge, warm hug and pulled him inside. "Come in and tell Aunt Gracie all about it."
Matt never got his coffee and any plans for pretending nothing was wrong disappeared with Grace Lynch's gentle probing.
"I never go without giving Dad something for Christmas; even if it's just something I make at school. This year, no shop class, no art class, no job so nothing for Dad." Matt rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes so hard Aunt Grace pulled them down.
"Mattie," Grace held the boy's trembling hands gently in her own, "what about the money that the Bugle collected for you?"
"What do you think paid the hospital bills? 'Us Murdocks ain't charity cases' was what Dad said and paid all those bills. Anything left over he put in a college fund." Matt dropped his chin to his chest. "Dad did the right thing. I just feel useless."
Grace wanted to rock her Mattie the way she did when he was a little boy and scraped his knee or bumped his head, but this wasn't what the young man needed right now. "Matthew Michael Murdock, when things happen people have to change their plans and keep going. My husband, George, was an airplane mechanic and a pilot when we got married. There was a war in Korea and he was in the Air Force Reserve. So overseas he goes and gets killed in a bad landing on an aircraft carrier. I worked in the garment district; did specialty sewing for bridal fashions. It was hard work but wonderful, I had to stop because I got pregnant. George Junior never knew his daddy."
"So you changed your plans." Matt tried to image Aunt Gracie young with a husband and a son.
"Yep, and now you have to change your plans. What does your father expect you to do?"
"Dad just wants me to go to school and be a doctor or a lawyer. I guess doctor is out, but going to law school is really expensive and I can't work to earn any money."
Grace grabbed his shoulders and gave Matt a gentle shake. "Oh Matthew, work is work no matter what you do. So you can't bus tables anymore, so what? Work on learning what you need to do to get scholarships to go to college. Work on learning to take care of yourself so you can keep yourself neat, your own place clean and take care of yourself. If you can keep your Dad's place clean and feed him something other than TV dinners and fried everything else you'll be doing just what he wants you to."
"That doesn't seem like much."
"Matt, every parent wants to see their child grow up and be happy and independent. Do that and your Dad won't care if you buy him one hundred bottles of Old Spice after shave."
Matt finally laughed, "But why break a perfectly good tradition?"
0o0o0
December 24th to the Murdocks meant tramping around Manhattan to look at the store windows, stopping at Fogwell's Gym to eat a Christmas potluck dinner and swap stories with the other old boxers there and ending with Midnight Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral.
"Hey, Mattie, what ya say 'bout spending the day at home," Jack called as he carefully shut the cupboard doors the way the people at the Lighthouse had told him to.
"Dad, that is so boring. I got everything planned. First, Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree and then we head to Macy's and Gimbel's and check out the windows. The guys at Fogwell's would never forgive us if we don't show up for supper." Matt walked, head high, to his father and brushed the old man's shoulders to clean off imaginary lint. "Tradition, ya know, we do this every year."
"Yep, you're right, kid" Jack eyes brimmed with pride as he playfully punched his boy in the shoulder. "Us Murdocks got a real tradition, but be kind to your old man. I ain't as young as I used to be, I might want to go to bed early tonight and just go to church in the morning. Okay?"
"I'll think about it, but you have to open up your Christmas present now." Matt turned sharply, headed to his bed and pulled out a poorly wrapped box from underneath. "This is for you."
Matt's sly smile made Jack nervous as he slowly ripped off the paper. Inside was a short black scarf with an envelope on top.
"Aunt Grace helped me knit that for you, and if you tell the guys at the gym I made that they'll call me a little girl until I'm ninety nine." Matt heard Jack's fingers caress the scarf he had worked on for three days. Matt knew it didn't look good, but judging from the sniffs he heard his father make it didn't matter. "That card is real important, too."
Jack tied the scarf round his neck, "I don't know 'bout that, a warm neck is pretty important but let me read this." Inside the bright red and green card was Matt's careful writing.
I, Matthew M. Murdock, promise to finish high school with the rest of my class as planned.
I promise to go to college and be able to travel to that college by myself.
I promise to be able to keep the place clean, the dishes washed and the clothes put away just like I always have because I know I can do this if I try.
I promise to never give up, never give in and always come out swinging because that is what Murdocks do.
"Your mother wouldda been proud," was how Jack Murdock said I love you to his son.
"Thanks, Dad," was how Matt said I love you too.
0o0o0
Jack and Matthew were just heading out when Grace Lynch stopped them in the hall.
"Mr. Murdock that is a mighty good looking scarf you're wearing."
Jack grinned at Aunt Gracie. "It's the latest style."
"Matt," Grace's voice sounded disapproving, "that coat is too small for you. Give it here and I'll take care of it."
"But I need a coat, its freezing outside." Matt shivered in the unheated hallway as he pulled off the jacket.
"Well, put this on, I want to see if it fits."
Matt felt smooth leather pressed into his hands. His fingers found the sheepskin lining in the short jacket Aunt Gracie had pressed on him. A heavy zipper bisected the garment and snaps at the waist kept it snug to his hips.
"That is a real Air Force pilot's jacket. It was my George's and Mrs. Nussbaum let me hang it in cold storage with her fur coat to keep it in good shape. Well, Mrs. Nussbaum is moving away and I'll never wear it so you better have it. Merry Christmas."
"Thank you," Matt grinned. The jacket was a little big, but the sleeves went down over his wrists and the collar closed tight enough to keep him warm. "Won't your son want this?"
"No, Georgie Jr. has everything he needs. You need that jacket, so stop complaining and get going… have a good time."
Grace watched her neighbours head out into the cold Christmas Eve day and smiled. One of these days she was going to have to tell Matt that her son was resting beside his father and had been since cancer took him away so many years ago. Matt didn't need to know that: none of the children she watched grow up needed to know that because she saw her boy's face in every one of the children she watched through the years.
"Grace Lynch, you're an old fool," she whispered to herself as she went back into her home. "Merry Christmas."
Fin