Author's Note: Yay, I'm still alive! Okay, since you guys didn't murder me after all, I think you deserve a reward. Do you know what it is? That's right, you guessed it. A new chapter! Actually, it's not so much a reward as a self preservation technique. I'm pretty sure that if I left this unfinished now, one of you guys might actually hunt me down. Anyways, read, review, and review. Wait, did I already say review? Oh well, just do it anyway. It stimulates my creativity.
Oh, one more thing, the final scene with Elektra and the punching bag was inspired by a scene in Daredevil issue #14, written by David Mack.
Love Me When I'm Gone
Chapter Seven
The gods were mocking her.
At least that's what Elektra would've thought if she actually believed in any sort of higher power. The only contact she'd had with religion came from Matt, and he was gone now.
The day they buried him was beautiful, sun shining, a gentle breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The complete antithesis of stereotypical funeral weather, this unusually perfect day was in stark contrast to her mood.
The nonexistent gods were apparently not without a sense of humor.
Elektra barely heard the words of the priest, aware of Foggy standing to her right with Abby flanking her left only in the vaguest possible sense. This whole situation seemed completely unreal which, given the circumstances, was probably a good thing. Unreality meant numbness, and numbness meant a temporary reprieve from the pain lurking just below the surface.
"You ready to go?"
Elektra blinked hard, realizing for the first time that, with the exception of herself, Foggy, and Abby, everyone had left. Not that there had been many people there in the first place. Ben Urich had shown up, along with Karen Page, the secretary from Matt's office. There were a few others too, but for the most part it was just the three of them.
"E," Foggy repeated gently, "We should probably-"
"You two go ahead, I'll catch up." Not knowing why she felt the need to explain herself further, Elektra added, "I just need a minute."
Foggy nodded in understanding, giving her shoulder a light squeeze before leading Abby toward the cemetery gates.
Once alone, Elektra stood motionless, eyes fixed on the coffin that held Matt's body. It'd been a closed casket funeral. The alternative wasn't even an option.
"Foggy, where is he?"
There were too many cops, too many people crowding the sidewalk outside the office for her to see clearly. Foggy had been talking to the police when she arrived, but now stood before her, blocking her view of whatever lay beyond.
"Elektra, you really shouldn't-"
Ignoring him completely, she tried to move past but, showing surprising speed for a man his size, Foggy blocked her again. Elektra resisted the urge to shove him out of the way, though how she did so remained a mystery.
"Get out of my way, Foggy, I need to-!"
"No, Elektra." Placing his hands on her arms in a restraining manner, he either disregarded or forgot about the fact that she could have him on the ground and unconscious in half a second if she so chose. "Trust me; you don't want to see him, not…not the way he is now."
The feeling that someone was watching her brought Elektra back to the present. Turning around, she half expected to find Wilson Fisk staring back at her, gloating over his victory. There was no one in her immediate line of sight, however, on closer inspection she noticed a figure standing off in the distance. Squinting her eyes against the glare of the sun, it took a moment for her to realize who the man was.
Stick was looking straight at her, dressed in black from head to toe. Had he been there the whole time? Probably, she just hadn't been paying attention. He took a step forward as if to approach her, but she was already up and headed in the opposite direction before he could do more then that. She couldn't talk to him right now, it just wasn't possible.
"I'm sorry, Elektra."
Sorry? What did he mean sorry? And why did he sound like that?
"There was too much damage."
Too much damage? What the hell was he talking about? He'd saved her hadn't he? Her whole goddamn spine had been sticking out and he'd saved her, so how could there be too much damage now?
No, she couldn't talk to him, didn't want to talk to him. In fact, there were only two people Elektra wanted to see at that moment, and one of them was lying in a coffin a few feet in front of her. The other person didn't really count, because when she saw Wilson Fisk again, talking was going to be the last thing on her mind.
As Elektra walked back to where Abby and Foggy still waited, she again reflected that the gods sure had an interesting sense of humor.
The previously cloudless sky had opened up and it began to pour.
Blood.
Matt's blood.
All over her hands.
There was so much on the pavement surrounding him that Elektra couldn't believe there was any left.
But there was, oh was there ever. It stained her shirt, covered her fingertips…
"Elektra?"
She jumped at the sound of her name, hands flying from the scalding hot water and leaving the sink a sudsy mess.
"Sorry," Foggy said from the bathroom doorway.
"No, it's okay. I was just…thinking."
Actually she'd been trying to get the blood off her hands but despite the fact that she'd practically scrubbed them raw, it was still there. At least it was to her.
Reaching to turn off the sink, she dried her hands on a nearby towel before giving Foggy a weak attempt at a smile. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out for a minute there."
"Don't be, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Foggy grimaced as the words came out, knowing how dumb they sounded, but Elektra didn't seem to mind. Leading her back to the living room, he watched her glance around a few times as if looking for something.
"Where's Abby?"
"Went to her room. Said she was going to bed. I didn't bother telling her it was five in the afternoon."
Elektra sighed, dropping heavily onto the couch. "Has she talked to you at all?"
"You mean since it happened? I guess that depends on how you define 'talk.'" At her raised eyebrow he continued, "The best I could get was her saying she was fine and not looking at me. I did manage to get a complete synopsis of every episode of Lost ever made last time I tried though, but something tells me that's not what you're looking for."
Elektra shook her head, shoulders slumping. Three days and Abby had barely said a word. Neither had she, really, but then again she was running on autopilot, hardly able to function herself.
Giving her a long, appraising stare, Foggy disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two glasses and a bottle of vodka. Placing one glass in front of her, he filled it with a generous amount before doing the same for himself and sitting down next to her on the couch.
Elektra eyed the drink doubtfully. "I really shouldn't."
"Well I sure as hell should, and I'd hate to steal your booze without sharing. " Without waiting for an answer, he tilted the glass to his mouth, making a face as the liquid burned his throat. "Oh come on E, it's not like we haven't drank together before."
That was true enough. She, Foggy and Matt had spent more then a few nights downing shots, Elektra listening in amusement as they recalled old stories from their college days. The three of them had had fun, together, rare moments of doing nothing but enjoying each other's company, sharing a few jokes, and celebrating their friendship. Those nights had been much too few, and now they'd never be again, at least not without Matt.
That thought made her chest tighten. Oh what the hell? It was a special occasion anyway. Without thinking, she grabbed the drink, downing it in one gulp before going for a refill. She liked to avoid alcohol for the most part, for all the obvious reasons. It impaired judgment, slowed reaction time, but who cared? She wasn't going anywhere and she'd have to drink quite a few more of these before it even began to affect her.
"So," Foggy began, "I know this is a stupid question, but how are you holding up?"
Elektra thought for a moment, rubbing a hand across her tired eyes. "Okay I guess, all things considered."
"You looked like you were trying to rub your skin off back in the bathroom."
Sighing, Elektra closed her eyes tightly to stop the threat of oncoming tears. "I just…"
"What?" Foggy asked softly.
"I can't stop thinking about it, seeing him like that. And I know you were trying to protect me, stop me from seeing it but-"
"Hey, don't even go there. I should be thanking you for not slugging me, I know you wanted to."
Elektra remained silent almost a full minute, then, "He deserved better then that." It felt odd to be saying that Matt deserved a better death, but it was true. He'd been a hero, he should've at least died like one.
Sinking deeper into the cushions, Foggy reached for his drink. "I know, it's not right."
They lapsed into silence after that, drowning their sorrows for almost an hour before Foggy declared his need to leave. As she walked him to the door, Foggy paused and gave her another assessing look.
"You know, you don't have to be here tonight. Both of you are welcome to stay at my place for as long as you need."
"Thanks, I think we're okay, but that reminds me, you might want to leave town for awhile. After what happened with Bullseye-" But Foggy shook his head emphatically, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Uh uh, no way. That son of a bitch killed Matt, and I'm going to help you take him down. Even if that just means keeping the law office going while you kick his ass, I'm not running away."
The smile she gave him was weak, but real, encouraging him to go on. "There's something else too." He took a deep breath, feeling as though he were venturing into dangerous territory. "After you-after we thought you'd died, Matt…he kind of shut down, closed himself off even more then he usually did. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm here if-if you ever want to talk or-or need anything."
Feeling somewhat awkward, Foggy stared at the floor, unsure what Elektra's reaction would be. He knew she didn't like asking for help, probably because she hardly ever needed it but-
His worries disappeared a moment later as she pulled him into a brief hug, kissing his cheek as she did so. He saw the gratitude in her eyes as they separated.
"Thank you Foggy, for everything. You were like a brother to him, and I don't think I ever thanked you for being such a good friend to me, especially the last couple days."
Now it was Elektra's turn to be uncomfortable, but Foggy's gentle smile quickly banished the feeling.
"You're welcome. Just remember you're not alone in this okay?"
"Yeah, I will."
They exchanged goodbyes one last time before Foggy headed downstairs to hail a cab, leaving Elektra with nothing but her thoughts, none of which were particularly comforting.
WHAM!
The punching bag flew backward as she laid into it yet again. After Foggy's departure, she'd tried talking to Abby, but had no success. Peeking into the teen's unlocked room, Elektra saw the girl was feigning sleep, and doing a rather terrible job at it. When she'd called her on it, Abby had begged to be left alone and Elektra had let her be.
Sleeping was an impossibility, despite how thoroughly exhausted she was, so Elektra found herself in the training room, taking out all her rage and frustration on the bag in front of her. Ignoring the throbbing in her hands, she lashed out, the chain affixing the bag to the ceiling creaking in protest.
WHAM!
Without wanting it to, Elektra found her mind drifting off, back to that sidewalk in front of the office. Had it only been three days ago? It didn't seem possible, but yes, she thought it had.
She couldn't take this. Foggy didn't know, didn't seem to remember that Matt still had a chance, but that time was running out. This time she did push him away, along with about twenty other bystanders eager to see the show.
Her eyes were immediately drawn to the blood. Blood and…something else. She knew what it was, but her mind wouldn't fill in the blank. Their were ambulance lights flashing, police guarding the body, and somewhere in the background Foggy was talking to her.
"He put his hands over his ears like he was in pain. It just came out of nowhere, Elektra; it just came out of nowhere."
The cops tried to keep her away, but she still saw it. Matt, lying on the ground, with a bullet hole through the right side of his skull. His face was still relatively intact; leaving no doubt that it was in fact him. Elektra now registered that the something else on the sidewalk was brain matter.
WHAM!
WHAM!
Elektra continued her assault, hitting the bag again and again. She kept her head down as the tears blurred her vision. Still, she kept hitting.
"I'm sorry, Elektra."
Too much damage. There was too much damage.
"He's dead. He's gone, Elektra."
Matt was dead.
Forever.
Gone.
WHAM!
WHAM!
WHAM!
Elektra fell to her knees, harsh, choking sobs escaping before she could stop them. She was going to be sick. For the first time in who- knew- how -long, she was going to throw up.
Sprinting to the bathroom, she made it just in time. The small amount of food Foggy had forced her to eat earlier that day rocketed up her throat as she shook uncontrollably, dry heaving until there was absolutely nothing left. Afterward, she leaned sideways against the wall, sure she was about to pass out.
It was then that she noticed the liquid running down her hands. Eventually, she came to realize that the autopilot she'd been running on must have taken a vacation, because she'd forgotten to wear gloves. It seemed impossible, to hit so hard for so long without feeling the pain as her knuckles split apart, but Elektra had done just that.
For the second time in two days, her hands were covered in blood.
Damn the nonexistent gods and their sick sense of humor.
