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While coming back to New York was already a part of Elektra trying to return to the one time in her life she felt like she could be a *good* person, she's done all she can to avoid actually bringing that danger down upon the few good people from those years. Two months, she's managed to avoid Matthew Murdock and his erswhile partner, Foggy. Two months she's kept to running what is left of her father's business, managing his fortune, working in soup kitchens, homeless shelters, and whatever little things she can find to give her life meaning. Two months of avoiding his *exact* block, but staying at a hotel just a few blocks away when she could be in something far more posh.
Finally, it was too much. It's late in the evening, well after the time to go home, when she's broken into his office. Maybe he'd smell her there and come, or maybe she expects him to come back after dinner on Tuesdays, as he often does, to get ready for depositions on Wednesday mornings. Either way, she is there after Foggy and Karen have both gone home, sitting calmly across from his desk, reading one of the files she's stolen off of Karen's desk. Braille is still not, actually, one of the languages she can read. She still smells deliciously like herself, sandalwood, black vanilla and a touch of the oil used to clean her blades.
*
Matt's footsteps stop outside the office on his walk from getting Chinese. His head tilts backwards towards the door and he stops, waiting, smelling, and listening.
It takes a moment to block out all of the extraneous sensory data. The plopping of water from a storm drain. Luella and Roger fighting again (let's hope it doesn't get physical this time). A girl crying to her mother on the phone because she misses Iowa. The heartbeat of a cat as it moseys down the way. Exhaust. Sandalwood. The plopping of water from a storm drain. Oil. The puddle ripples as a car drives close enough to cause the ground beneath it to shake. Oil and sandalwood. The plopping of water from a storm drain. Matt hopes it doesn't get physical this time between them. The plopping of water from a storm drain. Black vanilla.
He lets out a sigh and enters the room, the silhouette from his glasses making the outline of his face distinct in the shadows. He doesn't turn on a light. Both of them prefer it that way.
"Elektra," he says. Matt holds the cane in front of him with both hands. He rubs it slightly against his front. It's a calming thing and lets him know his tie is straight without needing to make it seem as if he needs to know that his tie is straight. "It's been a while," he says low.
*
A slight cant of her head, only half reading the file by the streetlight through the windows. She wasn't really interested in the file, but she needed something to preoccupy her mind before she chickened out of her plans for the evening. Before she left his office without explanation, only leaving her scent behind to give her away that she was there at all. So, she sits still, the file open in her lap but her head picking up the moment she hears that door open. A faint smile flickers across her full mouth and she breathes out his hane, with the same accent, same husky voice, same odd warm that she spoke it for so many years.
"Matthew."
Her head turns, dark eyes flickering over his frame, taking in what time has done to him and how he might actually be more handsome for it. She smiles a bit more as she finally catches scent of the food on the air. "I see you still like to get Chinese on Tuesdays… it is nice some things do not change."
*
Matt pauses to squeeze the handle on his cane tightly before he holds it up, almost like a sword and then throws it onto the sofa. His hands go into his pockets as he leaves the ruse behind. "It's Qin Shihuangdi's," he says with a tilt of his head. "Best Chinese in town."
He gauges his words carefully. Everything about her has to be done with extreme caution. That is the only way to combat Elektra. Even when you're not fighting, you're still playing. And even when you're playing, you could be one moment from fighting. Important to tread carefully.
"You must be bored, if you are looking at case files."
Pause.
"What brings you here, Elektra?"
*
While it's not the preparation of adrenaline for a fight, the quiet sound of Elektra's low, calm heartbeat ticks up just a few paces a minute for his being more near. It's more the sound of a heart in hope and quiet aching for having not seen someone too long. Faint nerves about a conversation. She is not preparing to attack, not in any way. If anything, she may be… Worried? It's an odd emotional reaction from her, but it's what her body betrays. She carefully folds the file shut and rests it upon the desk, turning her body to face him.
"…Not bored. Never." She lies. "… well, perhaps a little. But not here. I simply needed… Distraction, while I waited." Then she sets her lips, dark eyes turning fully up to him as she takes a deep, slower breath, trying to keep herself calm and centered. Trying to screw her courage to the sticking place. This was far harder than asking him to fight someone with her. "…I…need your help, Matthew. I would ask Foggy… he may be better suited, but… I have no wish to put him in danger."
*
Matt rocks back on his heels and chuckles at her. He figured it must be something like that. "I think you and I would agree." He walks over towards her, sitting upon the desk with one leg, and he 'looks' down at her as if there is nothing at all the matter with his eyes. "Let's leave Foggy out of this one."
*
While Elektra has always known him blind, she is also one of the few people who so well understands just how he can 'see', and to what level of detail. So there is no shock as his expression tilts down to her in the darkness of the office. She studies his face lit in lines by the blinds and the streetlight beyond. "…That is why I came so late." Her pulse is another notch faster, truly struggling with just finding the courage to ask him. Her lips press a bit harder and, finally, she abruptly stands. "No. Never mind. I should not have come. I should not pull either of you into this. Foggy or you."
*
Matt raises a hand, beckoning her to stay seated (not that she listens to him. Ever.). "Elektra," his voice is calm. Reasonable. "You can at least ask. I always have the benefit of saying no."
*
Of course she doesn't listen to him. She never does. The way she stands now, though, not actually having walked away yet, it puts them almost in contact. Chest to chest, lips but a foot and change apart. Somehow sharing breath this close is more intimate than sitting just another foot or two away. To her, at least. She studies his face, the scruff of his jaw, all of him for another few of those quickened heartbeats before she murmurs. "… I… don't want to do it any more, Matthew. I don't want to… kill people. I want to… help. Do something to make the world *better*, not… worst…" The guilt behind her voice was aching. Drowning.
*
"I'm not sure how that's getting pulled into anything," Matt says as his glasses seem to stare at her. His head is tilted back with his rolled shoulders. Confident. Perhaps too confident. He begins to smile as he cracks a joke, "You missed Christmas. You could have rang the bells for the Army." But he doesn't move, he just stays half seated on the desk.
*
A bitter sort of a cracking laugh escapes her lips, "…actually, I worked a soup kitchen on Christmas. I remember they used to do that… on the TV shows, when they wanted to teach the spoiled children a lesson. I figured it was a good place to start." While there is tired laughter in her voice, it's not entirely a joke. Elektra did actually do that, probably in a set of Prada heels and a designer jacket. But she was there.
*
Matt's eyebrows flash up and down and he makes a face as if she proved him wrong. "Well, then. The community thanks you for your service." He pauses for a bit, letting the silence settle. "You're stalling."
*
"It is not enough, I…know that." Elektra's tone says she suspects nothing she does will EVER be enough to make up for things in her past. However, she takes in another slightly unsteady breath. Why was this so much harder than killing a man? She finally walks away from him, but towards the window instead of the door. "There will be many very… Very unhappy that I have decided to abandon working for them. I suspect they will come to take me back. There is a part of me that wants to go back… is bored… Thinks that doing… *that*… is all I'll ever be good at."
*
Matt licks his lips and then purses them as he considers her words. "The only one who can make decisions for you is you, Elektra. Not the Hand. Not me. We all know controlling you never works. I found that out the hard way."
*
That last comment gets another bittersweet laugh from her, arms folding across her chest, almost hugging herself as she watches the suspiciously quiet night and the city beyond. "No, I suppose not. And that is why I have left. And I want to stay out. I just don't know if… If I can. I don't know how to be *good*, Matthew. I never have been. Not like you."
*
Matt can't help but laugh and shake his head slightly. His head tilts down as he thinks of all of his sins. "You should talk to my Priest. He'd let you know how far off base you are." Then his face turns to face hers, "It's a process."
"And it's rocky along the way."
*
"…Isn't there something about priest confidentiality? If he's letting me know about all your sins, as much as that sounds like a fast way to get quite… well… To remember why you turned my head in the first place…" There is a different change. Quickening of her pulse again, accompanied by just the faintest scent of hormones. Arousal. She can still just shiver thinking about him certain ways. "…I think you need a new priest if he's telling those secrets. And… I know it is rocky. I just broke at least… twenty traffic laws two nights ago racing some idiot mafioso… But it was better than going back to killing someone." And she needed the adrenaline fix.
*
"I like my priest," Matt responds dryly.
"Murder by accident is, I suppose, a step up. Progress, right?" He smiles faintly at her before growing more serious. "I will help you." He looks away. "Should it come to that."
*
The woman turns back to him, sauntering just a touch closer. Most definitely invading that personal space bubble without exactly touching him, but she's so close. He could feel her breath on his skin now, practically taste that black vanilla on her skin. "… Should it come to that? Do you not think it already hasn't? Why else would I stand here… and dare ask this of you?"
*
Matt gives a sharp exhale in a chuckle, "It could be that. It could also be that you just miss Qin's mei fun and were hoping I brought some back for you."
*
Elektra does laugh a touch at that, "…Well, yes, that too. And you were always good at bringing some back for me…" That comment is the first thing she's said anything close to 'light' the whole night, but there is a tired relief behind her words. Her fingertips then reach up, gently trailing against his cheek, if he lets her touch him at all. "…I have missed you, Matthew…"
*
Matt closes his eyes as she touches his cheek and allows her to for a moment before pulling away. "Elektra. Bad things happen when you and I get together. You and I both know that."
*
"…Bad things happened before because I… " Elektra breathes out, catching herself a bit, like her body or heart doesn't want to admit these words. But she's working very hard on admitting them, "…I was a bad person. I was awful for you and I knew that. I… I'm trying not to be that woman, Matthew. I'm trying so hard. I've been back two months. I… I only killed when they came after me, self defense. I had no choice. I haven't picked up a blade other than to practice otherwise."
*
"Old habits die hard," Matt says as he exhales wearily. He remains his normal, stoic self, but she can feel that he is battling with himself on this one. He wants to believe her—the past has made him wary.
*
"I know, Matthew. I do. That is why I am here. I… do not think I can do it alone. Going to the Gnucci race… it was a slip. I need something to keep me… Alive. Keep me fighting. Even if it is just a spar. Or… a reminder why it is worth trying to be better." Elektra watches him for a long few moments, aching and torn on the edge of just walking out herself. "…I told you I should not have come."
*
"No," Matt says as he shakes his head. "No. It's good that you came. And it was good to see you." He waits a moment, "If you need me, you know that I'm here. And when they come, as they surely will. We'll be ready."
*
"They already have, once. I…made an example of them, with help from another old friend. But they know where I am. They'd always fine me. It's almost not worth even bothering to hide. They…will come." Elektra's jaw sets a bit harder for a few moments, fingertips reaching out to brush his forearm, just for another moment of touch.
*
As her hands brush by his forearm, Matt nearly flinches. He reaches his arms out wide to give her a hug, if she lets him. "They are going to come. But they're going to have to go through me first."
*
A hug is not what she expected. It's too tender. Too good. A fight? Yes. Perhaps even some violent love making or worse. But not a hug. That implies care and that simply breakes something in Elektra for a few moments. She stiffens in his arms, heart in her throat, before she finally just leans into it. She says nothing for too long a moment, wrapping one arm up, against his muscled back, clutching on for what seems like dear life, even if it will only last a few minutes. "…I should not have come. You do not need drawn into this… again…" SHe whispers against his throat.
*
"The people who come for you come for me. They always will," Matt says ruefully. "And they will never stop." After a few moments he lets go of her and straightens up. "I should get working on the Rand case."
*
The woman clears her throat, stepping back and straightening her shoulders as she fully gets control of herself again, even if the scent of her lingers on his skin and will remain in his office long after she's gone. "Yes…Of course. Sparring practice tomorrow evening, perhaps? It has been too long. Neither of us can afford not to stay sharp. Not now."
*
"Early evening," Matt says. Later is when he's needed out on the town. He moves to get behind his seat and takes a stack of papers off of his desk, those with out braille, and slides his fingers over the ink. "It has been too long."
*
That last bit makes her genuinely smile. "…I look forward to it. I remember where the old gym is. I'll see you there." With that, Elektra turns on the ball of her foot and saunters to the door. A moment later, she is out. Her high heels can be heard quietly clapping down the hallway and the stairs.