She saw the blood first, a harsh contrast to the light blue carpet. She'd never seen that much blood, not even when her father was killed. Garrett was instantly covered in it, crimson soaking his shirt and pants and shoes as he dropped down next to Elektra. Cursing wildly, he shifted her so that she was half-lying on top of him instead of facedown in her own blood.
Forcing herself to move, Abby joined him on the floor, eyes roaming over her guardian's prone body. Elektra's hair was damp from the shower, her complexion a disturbing shade of white Abby hadn't seen since the incident with Typhoid Mary in the forest. She'd dressed in a black top and jeans, but the bullet hole just below her collarbone was clearly visible.
"E," Garrett said fiercely, panic fading as he searched for a pulse. "E, talk to me. Talk to me."
Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and confused as she searched the room. She was breathing shallowly, beads of sweat standing out against pale skin.
"Elektra," he repeated sharply. "E, give me something here."
She mumbled something incomprehensible that turned into a cry of pain as Garrett pressed hard against the wound. Trembling, she made a weak attempt to push him away.
"No," he said firmly, keeping pressure on the area. Using his free hand, Garrett fished the cell phone from his pocket, staining it red as his bloody fingers made contact. Without looking up, he threw the phone at Abby. "Call 911."
He'd either forgotten or didn't care that she had her own phone. Until just then, Abby herself had forgotten about that. Fortunately Garrett's order broke the temporary paralysis. Ignoring the urge to gag, Abby dialed with shaking fingers.
"No," Elektra muttered, trying again to push herself up. "No hospital."
"Yes, hospital," Garrett countered, easing her down. "Relax."
"Too many questions."
"Questions can be answered."
"It's just a shoulder wound," she told him, the hint of a slur in her words.
"I know," he said glancing at the impossibly large pool of blood they were soaking in. "But we're fresh out of band-aids and you're in shock. Relax."
"I'm not in shock," Elektra replied. "It's a shoulder wound, you know how to treat a shoulder wound."
"You're arguing, good sign."
"No hospitals," she said past rapid, panting breaths.
"Okay, no hospitals if you tell me who did this," he agreed, half-listening as Abby gave the name of their motel.
She didn't answer, her eyelids drooping closed.
"E, no. Elektra, Elektra look at me. Dammit. E, hang in okay? Are you listening? Stay with me, Elektra, stay with me!"
"You're not staying?" Garrett mumbled, face buried in a pillow.
"No," Elektra replied simply.
Yawning, he rolled onto his back, balancing on muscular arms as he sat up. "What's the matter?"
She straightened her shirt, determined not to look at the condom wrapper on the floor. "I've got things to do."
He snorted, rolling the kinks from his shoulders. "What kinds of things?"
"Work things."
"Bullshit."
Emerging from the hotel bathroom, Elektra glowered in annoyance. "Excuse me?"
"Bull. Shit. We both know you're between jobs."
"Is that right?" she challenged, scanning the room carefully.
"I told you, freelance is a lousy gig. Get yourself some representation."
"Where's my hair band?"
"What?"
"Hair band, where is it?" It'd come out earlier and she'd memorized the exact spot it landed right before Garrett started fumbling with her bra. Now the damn thing wasn't there anymore.
"I could've sworn you had more than one."
"I do, I want this one."
"Maid must've taken it," he replied, clearly frustrated by her obsessive tendencies.
Lips forming a tight line, Elektra began a methodical search of the floor space.
"You're crazy, you know that right? Clinically whacked out?"
"You finish your mail-order psychology degree?"
"I charge by the hour."
"Send me a bill."
"I should. Did you have to go after Lynch?"
"Job's a job. Don't make it personal."
"You put an arrow through one of my best customers. Do you know what he was going to pay me to take out Justin Hammer?"
"Not as much as I got for taking out Lynch."
"Sadist. Why do you have to rub salt in the wound?"
"Sorry."
"No you're not."
"No, I'm not," she conceded, coming around to his side of the bed. Where was the blasted hair band?
Reaching out, Garrett snagged her hand, encasing it in both of his. Gently, far too gently, he brushed his fingers along the scar on her palm. A phantom twinge of pain as she remembered Bullseye throwing that sai. Swallowing hard, Elektra snatched her hand away. Sex was sex, Garrett the trigger-happy drunk was Garrett the trigger-happy drunk. But when he did things like that…that was different. That was dangerous and wrong and nothing she wanted to partake in. Blinking back unwanted emotions, she bent down to retrieve the wayward band. How did it get over here without her realizing?
"How are you?"
Elektra blinked again, didn't look at him as she slid brunette hair into a ponytail. The thing she liked about Garrett was that he didn't ask questions. He was one of the only ones in the mountain training ground that didn't ask how it felt to die, or why she was so angry, or how it was that she was so far ahead of everyone else. He didn't get in her way, he didn't judge, and he didn't want to know about her life. Now his one good character trait seemed to be gone. "What?"
"You. How are you doing?"
She stared at him, waiting to see what this was all about.
"Come on E, it's gotta be tough."
"Life's tough, same as every other day"
"E."
Then it hit her. She knew what he knew, and it made her want to claw his eyes out. "How'd you find out?"
"How does anyone find out anything?"
Her immediate thought was Stick, but that wasn't right. Garrett was done there; he wouldn't go to the blind man for information.
"Internet, Elektra. Search engines. You were born sometime in the last hundred years right?"
"You Google'd me?" It felt like a violation, which didn't make much sense considering what they'd just done
"Close. Asked Jeeves. Helpful guy."
Elektra went to the other side of the room, gathering the few items she had with her. "You shouldn't have done that.'
"There was a pattern, I needed to see why."
"What are you talking about?'
"Every year for three years, this is the only day I always see you. That's a pattern."
"Not anymore," she replied, making a beeline for the door.
"Elektra, hold on," he said, and something in his tone kept her there. Climbing to his feet, Garrett took his wallet from the nightstand, pulling out a slip of paper. In his boxers, he joined her at the door, handing her a name and phone number.
"What's this?'
"Guy I do business with. He's good, keeps the jobs coming."
"I can find my own work," she stated, handing the paper back.
"You can, but he can find it faster. Besides, we know the same people, there's less chance of you killing off my meal tickets," he replied, handing her the slip again.
She didn't fight him this time, merely glanced at the quickly scrawled contact information. McCabe. She'd throw it out later.
"Careful, E. You keep doing this and I'll start thinking you only want my body. When are we going to have the commitment talk?"
She exited to the hallway, slamming the door in his face. That twinge of remembered pain had somehow left her hand, travelling up to her shoulder. She ignored it, along with everything else around her, at least until she turned the next corner.
"You sure you want to be alone?"
Elektra blinked hard, waiting for him to go away. He didn't. Standing against the hallway wall, Matt stared sightlessly in her direction.
It took a moment for her brain to catch up with her eyes. When it had, Elektra walked right past him, slamming the elevator's call button. "I'm used to it."
"Tonight, really?"
"Same as every other night," she replied, shivering as he came up next to her.
"Is it? Not many people have to sit through the anniversary of their own death."
She shook her head, willing him to leave. "I wanted to spend it with you."
"You didn't," he shot back, a hint of ice in his tone.
"I know."
"You could have. It would've been easier."
"I did eventually."
Matt nodded. "Why him? Why this?"
Elektra shook her head again. Slowly, she made herself look at him. "I needed to feel something."
Matt seemed to accept that, brushing a hand lightly over her arm. Goosebumps rose there as Elektra stepped into the elevator. He stayed outside, watching the doors close on her.
Her clothes were tight and sticky, caked with blood. The smell of it warred with the smell of the hospital. "What are we going to say?"
"Something. We'll say something."
The waiting room was empty save for them. Garrett's hands kept drifting towards the hidden revolver while his eyes shifted over their environment.
"That's not very big on details," Abby replied, a repeat of what she'd told Elektra. God this was all so wrong. "It was just a shoulder wound," Abby continued. In the movies, people with shoulder wounds slapped on a few bandages and continued throwing punches and dodging landmines until the credits rolled.
"Subclavian artery."
"What?"
"Subclavian artery and vein. Run right over where the hole was."
Abby shivered, digging her nails into the uncomfortable plastic chair. Garrett spared her a glance, then completely ignored her when he saw a blonde in a white coat coming their way. Raising a finger to his lips, he stood to meet the doctor.
Mark sipped quietly from his coffee mug, his expression tired and miserable. Intending to walk right past him, Elektra couldn't bring herself to do it. Taking a seat across from him, she wondered what exactly she planned to say. Luckily Mark solved the problem for her.
"This isn't what I wanted for her, this life," he said, gesturing around McCabe's kitchen.
"It's not your fault," Elektra replied awkwardly. Heart-to-hearts weren't her forte, but after that kiss on the porch, knowing that Mark was aware of what she'd planned on doing…she owed him something. Something more than this, more than a stilted conversation in a stranger's house, but that's all she had to give.
Mark was silent for a minute. "She thinks she'll die," he said flatly. "She doesn't think I can protect her."
"You've done a good job so far." She doubted that he realized just how amazing that was, how unbelievable that he'd been able to hide from Roshi's organization for any length of time.
"It's not enough. It's never enough."
"Mark…"
"You don't think we'll make it either."
She opened her mouth, closed it. She couldn't lie to him, not convincingly.
"She's all I have now, ever since her mother died."
His tone was still flat, but his eyes were tortured. At a loss, Elektra squeezed his arm on the table.
"If something happens…" Mark swallowed audibly. "She'll be alone."
"No. That won't happen."
Where did that come from? She couldn't say that, had no business saying that.
"She's what matters, not me."
Elektra nodded, unable to control her own reactions. This was wrong, she couldn't promise him this. And yet she was.
"Hey," Abby greeted, coming in from the living room. Elektra let go of Mark's arm, trying to not see the look of hopefulness in the girl's eyes. "What are you guys doing?"
"Nothing," Elektra replied calmly.
Abby looked from one to the other, mouth curving in a mischievous smile. "Right. You want to play Candy Land?"
Mark's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. Elektra just sat there, mystified by the request. "Candy Land?" she repeated.
"Yeah. The game. You know." Abby frowned. "You know what a game is, right?"
"I know what Candy Land is," Elektra snapped.
"Oh. Well the McCabe guy had it in his attic, said it belonged to the people who used to live here. Want to play?"
Mark forced a smile and headed for the living room. Elektra continued to stare blankly until Abby shrugged and left her there.
Suddenly cold, Elektra rested her elbows on the table, rubbing the back of her neck. Her arm and shoulder screamed inexplicably and there was a vague feeling of discomfort over her entire body. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she assumed it was McCabe who took the chair Mark had just vacated.
"You all right?"
His voice called her back, made her remember the hotel, the anniversary. She'd slipped again. God she felt horrible. It was too hard to think like this.
"Elektra."
It was a command, soft but insistent. Raising her head, Elektra gave Matt a weary look. At the hotel he'd worn the glasses. Now his cloudy eyes were exposed to her. "What?"
He didn't answer, merely held out his hand across the table. She took it, unnerved by how shaky she was, how cold and clammy her skin felt. At least she knew what was happening now, though the knowledge wasn't terribly comforting. "Must be bad."
"Must be," he agreed, fingers dancing over her wrist.
Allowing herself a brief moment of weakness, she squeezed his hand, taking comfort in his presence. "I promised him."
"Who?"
"Mark. It was stupid."
"Was it?"
Elektra winced, both from a surge of pain and the vision of Abby shot dead in front of her. Shot, was that it, was that why they were here? Possibly. "It's not enough. It never is."
Matt stood up. She blinked and he was crouching at her side. His hand was cool against her forehead. "You're burning," he said worriedly, fingers sliding to her cheek.
Elektra resisted the urge to lean in, to be weak again. She let him map her cheekbone, but refused to enjoy it. "I'm okay."
Matt stopped his gentle ministrations, gave her an appraising look. Garrett had looked something like that right before he pressed a gun to her head and an arm over her throat.
"Yeah," Matt said. "You're okay. You always are."
She heard the reproach in his words, though it was hard to catch, barely there at all. His fingers went away and she closed her eyes as he left her alone in the kitchen, in the house full of dead people.
Garrett was right about the artery. Subclanian..subclavical…whatever the name was. The bullet nicked it, causing Elektra to lose some ridiculous percentage of blood. They were doing all they could, transfusions, other stuff Abby hadn't paid attention to.
It didn't look good.
A nurse had found her clothes from who-knew-where, clothes that weren't covered in arterial blood. She didn't find any for Garrett.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we're obligated by law to report all gunshot wounds."
Towering over the petite female, Garrett looked at her with somber eyes. "I understand that Dr…?"
"Collins. Susan Collins."
"Dr. Collins. But there are circumstances here that you need to be aware of."
"Then educate me. How did this happen?"
"I don't…we weren't there."
"So I read in the report. But if you're asking me to break the law you'd better have a damn good reason for it."
"You saw the scars right? The one on her neck, her stomach?"
Collins nodded slowly. "Among others. I assume you have an explanation for those?"
"She was dating this cop awhile back."
"He did this?"
"She left, he didn't like it. The man's out of his mind, she told me he'd come after her. She told me…" He broke off, tears pouring from his eyes.
Shell-shocked and scared as she was, Abby had to admire his acting abilities.
The blonde's eyes softened, but her demeanor remained crisp and detached. "And who are you in all this?"
"I'm nobody. Friend from college, I loaned her the cash for the motel. Wanted her to stay with me but she wouldn't."
"Uh huh."
"Listen to me. He has friends who will cover for him. I'm sure you've heard about corruption with the police. He tried to kill her once and he will do it again."
"And how do I know it wasn't you who did this? Maybe you gave her the scars, got mad, had an accident with a gun."
Garrett took a step forward. "I wouldn't hurt her. Ever."
From the chair behind him, Abby felt a chill go through her. Shaking it off, the teen got up to stand next to Garrett. "He's not lying."
Dr. Collins looked at her, softening further. "You're her daughter?"
"Yes."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen." That's what it said on her fake ID anyway. "She tried leaving him before, I told her to leave so many times." Abby thought of Elektra dying with Matt behind bars, thought of being totally alone. The sobs she let out were real.
Collins was wavering. Garrett was a phenomenal liar, and the sight of a terrified teenage girl only helped things. "Did he ever hurt you?"
Hesitating for a split second, Abby held out her left hand, showing the scar from when Matt had stabbed her. "He did it to Mom too, same spot."
The doctor's eyes widened. Good, she'd seen the mark on Elektra's palm. Collins started to say something but looked away when a pager buzzed on her hip. Examining the screen, she glanced quickly at the other two. "I need to go."
"What's happening?" Garrett demanded.
"You'll know when I do."
They watched in silence as she disappeared down a corridor. Abby took a half-step forward, terrified by what she'd seen in the doctor's eyes.
"No," Garrett said, catching her elbow. "We're not drawing more attention to ourselves."
"You heard how much blood she lost. What if-"
"This is tricky enough already, we have to play it right."
Abby fumed in silence for a few seconds. "Kimagure doesn't work twice."
"Not an issue. Elektra's too stubborn and pissed off to die without bitching me out one more time."
Her mother's bedroom was bright, inviting. The way it looked after Abby's resurrection. She should've been comfortable, buried in warm blankets and soft pillows. She wasn't. The shaking was uncontrollable now and she felt hot and cold at the same was surprised in some distant part of her mind to see the white nightgown she was dressed in. It wasn't hers, but it looked familiar. A larger version of the one Abby wore when she was here?
"Déjà vu all over again."
Elektra smiled lightly on seeing Matt standing by the doorframe. No glasses this time, and he was looking at her, really looking at her. She liked it best when he could see. "For me, not you"
He smiled too, crossing to the foot of her bed. "Sorry I missed it."
"I'm not," she replied, remembering how scared she'd been when Abby was the one lying here. "So it's bad then."
He tilted his head sideways, lips turned downward. "You tell me."
Elektra didn't answer, didn't need to. She knew how this worked by now. He always came when it was bad, when she had a close call. Last time she'd been in India somewhere, caught a potentially lethal virus. Before that, she'd taken a stab wound near the ribs.
Without warning, Elektra was seized by violent tremors. Head spinning, she pulled the blankets over herself, shutting her eyes tightly. She kept them closed as Matt joined her on the bed, spooning up next to her. His arms were strangely warm, especially considering he wasn't actually there.
"Hasn't been this bad in a long time," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
"Not since Bullseye," she admitted.
"Not since Bullseye," he echoed.
Elektra took a shaky breath, covering Matt's hands where they rested on her stomach. She must be in real trouble if the pain was this strong, even in her dream. Hallucination. She was too tired to obsess over word choice.
Sometimes he showed up in memories, placing himself in random moments of her past with no rhyme or reason. Sometimes it was like this, not exactly a memory but enough of one. Sometimes he was blind, sometimes he wasn't. Elektra had long ago realized it was a bizarre defense mechanism, a security blanket created by her subconscious when she was in very dire straits.
Judging by the way her body was screaming at her, the way she couldn't seem to get enough air, the security blanket was about to be yanked off.
"You're bleeding," Matt declared.
Elektra mumbled a response, forgetting what she meant to say before the words left her mouth. She relaxed against him, felt herself fading out.
Then his arms were gone and she was cold again.
"No sleeping," he said chidingly.
Cracking one eye, she noticed that he'd moved to the edge of the bed, pressing careful fingers on her bleeding shoulder. She remembered now. Abby. Garrett. Just a shoulder wound.
"Elektra."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Talk."
"Keeps you awake."
"That's my point."
He frowned, watching the sheets and her nightgown stain red. "You don't mean that."
Forcing the other eye open, Elektra sat up painfully. Matt didn't try to help. "Abby got mad at me. Before this started."
"She's a teenager; she's supposed to get mad at you."
"The trip. I told her she couldn't go because it wasn't safe."
"I know. She asked when it would be safe."
"It never is. If it's not The Hand, it's Kingpin. If it's not him it's someone else. Hiding, fighting, running. That's not a life."
"Did you really think that once you came back to New York everything would be perfect?"
"No," she lied. "Not perfect. Better than this."
Matt left the bed, facing away from her. "You promised Mark."
"I told you, it was stupid." She paused, pictured Abby dying again in that hazy, undefined parking lot, pictured her almost dying from Bullseye's dart, pictured Matt himself wielding a knife over her. "I lied to him, I can't protect her."
"Not if you don't try."
"That's not fair."
"Life's not fair. She'll hate you for this, you know she will."
Yes, Elektra did know that, knew perfectly well about Abby's fears of losing anyone else. "She'd end up hating me anyway."
Matt looked at her over his shoulder. "This I definitely want to hear."
"I told she was okay after Kirigi died, I told her she could be normal."
"Don't you think she needed to hear that?"
"It was stupid. This isn't normal, this isn't what makes kids happy. She's not going to look back and smile over this."
He faced her again, expression hard and unforgiving. "You're tired. You're tired and you're making excuses."
She didn't have the energy for a denial. The room was starting to blur. The only thing that stayed clear was Matt's cold face and colder eyes. "Keep going, Elektra."
Her father. The pool. Treading water 'til she couldn't hold her arms up anymore.
"Keep going," he repeated.
She begged him with her eyes to stop, to understand. Then she remembered this wasn't Matt, not really. So she told him the truth, something she'd never admit to in the real world. "I'm not strong enough." She paused, steeling herself. "I'm gonna die."
Her Matt would've raged against that statement. Begged, pleaded, denied. This Matt simply looked at her with his arms crossed and, in a cool, factual manner replied, "Won't be the first time."
She woke up screaming Matt's name. Her body protested loudly enough that she fell back, shaking uncontrollably.
"He's not here," Garrett said calmly. "You'll be okay."
Breathing hard, she first registered the pain in her shoulder. Next came the realization that they were in another motel room. Finally, Elektra recognized that her stomach was about to betray her. "I'm going to be sick."
Garrett told her to stay there, grabbed for a garbage can by the door. She ignored him, body moving before her brain could warn against it. Stumbling to the bathroom, Elektra waited for the spasms to pass, coughing and dry heaving until Garrett crouched down next to her.
"You're going to make it worse."
She glared miserably, killed him with her eyes. He ignored her, filling a small cup with water and holding it out. "Sip. Slowly."
"No," Elektra muttered, wondering why the room couldn't stay still.
"You're dehydrated."
"I'm not dehydrated.
"Just like you weren't in shock," he grumbled. Setting the cup by the sink, he went to help her up, easing an arm around her back.
"I'm fine," she insisted, using what little strength she had to push him away.
Garrett persisted, carefully but firmly bringing her to her feet.
She punched him in the face. There was no force behind it, no speed. He grunted in irritation, too busy holding her up to dodge.
"I said I'm fine."
"Fine," he echoed disbelievingly. "You're fine?"
"Yes, Garrett, I'm fine." She was dizzy and nauseous and sore as hell.
Garrett looked at her, mulled over something in his head. "You're fine?"
"Yes."
He let her go, watching with a blank expression as she collapsed in a heap on the floor. She cried out in pain, biting her lip to stifle the noise. Too shaky to move, she lay with her cheek to the tile, fighting the urge to retch again.
"Call me when you're not fine," he advised. Then he left her there.
Elektra took half-an hour to get out of the bathroom. She fell twice, even with the wall as support. Garrett watched this silently from a chair by the window. By the time she reached him, Elektra was pale, sweaty, and thoroughly incensed. She dropped to the bed, using all her energy to remain upright. "Goddamn you."
"You said you were fine. You always are."
Elektra looked up sharply, the motion sending a bolt of agony coursing through her skull. Garrett handed her another cup of water, along with two white capsules. Throat like sandpaper, Elektra accepted the water this time but waved away the pills.
"Let me guess, you're not in pain either."
"Where's Abby?" she demanded, abruptly realizing that her charge wasn't there.
"Outside, she needed some air."
A car could be heard pulling into the parking lot. Garrett was up in a second, peering out the darkened window. "I'll be right back," he said hurriedly, already reaching for the gun at his waist.
Elektra tried to follow, but the going was slow and her brain was taking far too long to do its work.
Voices. Rised but muffled. Dammit why couldn't she clear herself of this fog?
Clutching her shoulder, Elektra reached the door just before it opened to reveal Matt standing on the threshold.
Author's Note: Hey everyone. It's another late night for me so please forgive the lousy editing job. I put this at the bottom to avoid spoiling some things with my explanation. First off, the idea of Matt visiting Elektra while she was injured came from Ben Affleck's 40 second cameo which was deleted from the Elektra movie. Additionally, I'm aware that Elektra might seem out-of-character in this chapter, but I felt that with all she's been through it would be logical for her to question herself and say things she wouldn't normally say, knowing that no one was there to hear them. If I'm wrong on this, please feel free to let me know.
I know things jump around quite a bit in this section, but all will be explained in the next update so don't worry if you're confused.
"I'm not strong enough. I'm gonna die."
"Won't be the first time."
Those lines came directly from an exchange between Sarah Connor and Kyle Reese in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles season 2, episode 14, 'The Good Wound.' And for anyone who knows what I'm talking about, yes, I had that ep in mind when I wrote this.