Matt sat bolt upright in his bed, startled by a crash coming from his kitchen, followed by a muttered curse.
Heartbeat.
Fast. Frantic. In his house. Still groggy, he concentrated on the noises. He got up and picked up his cane from beside his bed, ready to use it as a weapon.
Heartbeat, breathing. The shuffle of footsteps. The "clink" of china shards being kicked across the tiled floor.
He stopped just outside the open space he used as living room and kitchen. He was completely awake at this point and recognised the voice that was still muttering curses.
Frank.
Only it didn't feel like Frank. The heartbeat was… wrong. The rhythm, the pace. All wrong. Frank's heartbeat was never so fast and erratic. His breathing was always measured. Frank would never drop a mug to the floor, especially not when breaking into someone else's house.
And the scent… Definitely Frank's: gunpowder, leather, and blood (his or someone else's, who knew). Only, this time it was covered by more than a hint of alcohol. Frank smelled like a distillery. Matt chuckled to himself. That explained the different sounds coming from him, the clumsiness.
He took a step and entered the open space.
- Frank?
Frank turned towards his voice and nearly fell over.
- Red. – Barely audible.
- What are you doing here, Frank?
- Didn't know where to go.
- What happened?
Matt could feel the heat coming from him, his heartbeat still fast, almost panicked. There was something definitely wrong. He could tell that Frank was so drunk he could barely stand. He wondered how he had even managed to find the way to his apartment.
- How many did you have?
- Lost count after the second.
- Glass? – Matt marvelled. Frank looked like he'd had far more than that.
- Bottle.
Matt took a few steps towards him and took Frank's hand. It was cold and clammy.
- Ok, come here. Sit. Come on.
He half-dragged, half-carried Frank towards the couch under the big windows. The other man slumped in it and let out a sigh. Matt sat beside him and put a hand on his knee.
- What happened? Are you hurt? Whose blood am I smelling?
- No, Red. I'm fine. Think I scratched my face on your windowsill, that's probably it.
- Why didn't you just ring the bell?
- Didn't want to. I just wanted to crash here, alone. Maybe leave before you got up tomorrow.
- Frank, you're not making sense.
- Nothing does, lately.
- What happened to you? – He asked again.
Frank closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was silent for so long, that Matt would have thought he'd fallen asleep. He could still hear his heart, though, and that wasn't the heartbeat of a sleeping man. Frank was buying time. Matt waited, patiently.
- I was out, y'know? Doing my thing. I was on this rooftop and had my sniper rifle, my Glock, couple knives, y'know, usual, right? Had heard that there was going to be this man at this bar tonight, and he is one of the bad guys, Red, he really is, you know? He's bad. And I wanted to…
And he walks out of this bar, I take aim, everything is still. No wind, no noises, just me, my rifle, and this little man in the crosshairs. I take a breath, my finger slips on the trigger… And this little girl walks… no, she skips, she literally skips, Red, like a goddamn fairy, skips out of the bar after him, goes "Daddy!" and takes his hand. I was about to shoot, y'know? I had him, I was going to put a bullet between his eyes. Blow his fucking head off in front of his daughter.
Oh, you should have seen her, Red. Blonde pigtails. A beanie and a scarf. And I was about to shoot her daddy.
- Oh, God, Frank… - Matt was afraid to hear the end to this story.
- I let him go, Red. I closed my eyes and let him go. Got off the roof and into the first bar I could find. Wanted to get shitfaced and pass out. Next thing I know, I'm sitting on your goddamn couch like you're a fucking shrink. I didn't even know where I was going when I left the bar. I just walked.
Matt squeezed Frank's knee, lightly, and moved closer to him.
Frank was sitting still, Matt could tell he was looking at him, studying his moves. He didn't speak, put an arm around Frank's shoulders and pulled him close. Frank hung his head, his breathing hitched.
- Don't, Red.
- Don't what?
- This. Don't try to console me, don't get all cuddly on me. I don't deserve it.
- Frank. What really happened out there tonight?
Matt's heart was beating frantically, now. He hoped Frank couldn't hear it. He suspected there was more to this story, and he had no idea if he wanted to know the details.
- Today's her birthday.
Matt's heart stopped. He waited.
- Lisa. Today's her birthday. And that little girl… She was out in town with her daddy, Red. She was having fun, and it's not her fault if her daddy's a fucking mob boss, is it Red? I almost shot him right in front of her, Red.
Matt held Frank tight, he could feel him tremble against his chest, he could feel his hands clench and unclench, and he knew Frank was trying with all his might not to break down.
- Todays' her birthday, Red, and that girl… She looked just like my girl, like my little girl, and my Lisa…
That did it. Frank broke down in earnest, heavy sobs shaking his shoulders, his face buried deep in Matt's neck. Matt held him close until he'd cried it all out.
- They're all dead, Red. – Barely audible, Frank's face still pressed against his neck.
Matt was unsure who Frank meant. He waited in silence.
- They're all dead. The people who were there on that day. At the carousel. All gone. But Lisa and Frankie, they are not coming back. Maria is not coming back. I thought revenge would bring me peace, know what I mean? But they're dead, all of them, and my family is dead, too, and why does it still hurt so much, Red? Am I beyond saving?
- It hurts, Frank. I know. Love hurts and grief hurts and revenge hurts. You did good today. You let one go. For his daughter's sake, you let one go. You were good.
He ran his hands over Frank's back, soothing him while he sniffled and regained his composure. Frank eventually stopped shaking and relaxed against Matt's body.
- Come on, let's get you to bed.
He got up and took Franks' hands, tugging lightly to make him stand, then walked him to the bedroom and Matt helped him out of his t-shirt and cargo pants, and tucked him into bed before getting under the comforter alongside him.
- Matt? – A whisper.
Matt registered with a start that Frank had used his name, no Red, no Murdock.
- Yes, Frank?
- Thank you.
Matt didn't reply. Frank's heartbeat slowed almost immediately, his breathing became even and deep. He was asleep in seconds.
He woke up the next day to Frank still fast asleep beside him, sprawled on the bed with the blankets tangled around his legs.
Matt got up and went to the kitchen. Better find something for breakfast, Frank was going to have a hell of a hangover when he woke up.
