Distractions
At Madam Gao’s words, Matt parroted back to Elektra, “you’re my distraction.” Breathing deeply, Elektra stared into Matt’s clear brown eyes. He twitched and his eyes appeared to glance up - a reminder that her gaze that could never be reciprocated. But love… maybe this game they were playing could be called love.
Elektra’s heartbeat picked up and Matt’s breath hitched in recognition. Hesitating slightly, she moved closer until their lips were nearly touching. Matt opened his mouth in anticipation, but Elektra suddenly drew away. She sat back on her haunches and stared at the man who had entered her heart. After her resurrection, he’d risked his life to force her to remember the person she used to be – to reconcile her physical body with the person she was before. Even though her memories were limited, she was still miles ahead of Matt. He needed time. Whatever that moment was, it could wait.
“Oh,” Matt said, sitting up dazed, confused, and more than a little bit disappointed.
“Come on, I have something else to show you,” Elektra said, offering him a hand. “You used to like it.”
Matt sniffed the liquid and drew back with a huff. “It’s strong,” he said, instinctively swirling the glass to release the smell.
“Whiskey. You always insisted on drinking it neat, even though a couple of drops of water releases the depth of flavor.”
“I don’t understand,” Matt said.
“What don’t you understand?”
“This, us…” Matt gestured to the glass, and pointed between him and Elektra.
Elektra sighed. “I didn’t tell you before because I don’t know how I feel about it yet. My memory is not much better than your own,” she said truthfully.
“Because you died too,” Matt said matter-of-factly. She’d told him that much.
“Yes.”
Matt swirled his whiskey around again and took an experimental sip. He exhaled with cough and a shocked, “oh.”
Elektra laughed. “I did that the first time too.”
Elektra slowly walked towards Matt and put her hands on his shoulders. “The two of us – we have little memory of the past, so we can make our own lives… from scratch.” She leaned her forehead against his chest, and whispered, “what do you think?”
Matt sighed into her hair. “I want to know who I was – who I am.”
“You weren’t happy,” she warned.
“How do you know that?” he said. “And even if I was unhappy, I want to know why.”
“You wouldn’t have sacrificed your life if you were truly happy.”
“Tell me again,” he said softly, swaying slightly in her arms. “Tell me how it happened.”
“Not long ago, you tried to protect me from people who wanted to capture me and kill you. We fought together and we were going to run away - far far away - if we survived. But I didn’t. Our enemy came at you with a sword and I threw myself at him, certain that he wanted me alive more than you dead, but I was wrong.” She ran her thumb lightly over Matt’s cheekbone, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “When I was resurrected, I was like you – I had no memory of the past. A woman called Alexandra tried to use me to destroy the rest of the Hand, so I killed her. A group of vigilantes in New York tried to kill me and destroy the Hand. They blew up our building, killing almost everyone inside… including you. You died protecting me.” She gave a small huff. “Tit for tat.”
“And then you brought me back,” Matt finished. “And here we are.” He kissed the top of her head, light and chaste.
“We can do anything together – you and I,” Elektra purred.
“Maybe we should run away – like we planned to before,” Matt said. “I-I don’t like these people. I don’t trust them.”
“Not yet. We have things to do. For a start, we need to get revenge on that group who blew up the building.”
Matt drew away and flexed his muscles. “Where do we find them?”
“Not yet,” Elektra warned. “They’re strong. One has bulletproof skin, the other – a woman shorter than me - has strength you wouldn’t believe, the third has a fist that can destroy the deadliest of swords, and the fourth has martial arts skills that rival your own. They’re formidable and you need practice.”
“That rival my own,” Matt repeated.
“You’re a good fighter, Matthew. The man who trained us knew that and he feared you. He feared both of us. He constantly played us off against each other.”
“That’s horrible,” Matt said.
“But we’re free now,” Elektra said, taking his hand. “He’s dead and we’re free to be together. Together, forever.”
Matt was mostly happy in the compound. He adored Elektra, and his mind and body were constantly challenged by the training and martial arts practice. He discovered that many things came naturally to him, but his memory was stubbornly misty, even with Elektra’s many prompts.
His daily activities were so exhausting that he didn’t have much time to think about his past, but at night - alone in bed - he searched for memories. One night, he thought he recalled something about his training. Elektra told him they were both orphans, and their teacher had found them and trained them before tossing them aside. Matt remembered a lot of noise and fear. But feelings aren’t memories. He rolled over and pulled his sheets over his head like a protective cocoon.
The next morning at breakfast, he said to Elektra, “I want to go out - out there.” He gestured towards the front door to the compound.
“You’re not ready,” she said. “You need more training.”
“Not to fight,” he said. He took a swig of his tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Matthew, don’t do that. Use a napkin,” Elektra scolded.
Matt gave an exasperated huff. “I can hear them - people talking. I want to go out there. Maybe it’ll help jog my memory.”
“Do you really want that?” she asked. “You were weighed down by your past. It hurt you.”
“I don’t know,” he said, head down. “But you remember things – things about us. I-I want to too.”
Elektra shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Elektra had tried to get Matt to wear shoes, but he refused. He argued that it was necessary to track the ground through touch, and wearing shoes could be compared to covering an eye. Elektra marveled at how confident he was in his abilities now that he didn’t have to hide behind the glasses, cane and business suit. He’d not gleaned that his eyes looked different to the eyes of others, and thus had lost the crippling self-consciousness that had forced him to wear sunglasses for decades.
Of course, he knew he was different. Within the first few days of his resurrection, Elektra had explained that other people have another sense, but she’d also pointed out that sight was a distraction. Considering he could mow down a dozen of the Hand’s top martial artists single handedly, Matt had to believe this was true.
And so, after breakfast, he padded out the door barefoot and wearing nothing but thin pants and a t-shirt. He scrunched up his toes at the sting of the icy concrete and hobbled down the alleyway to the main street, holding his breath against the smell. There were groups of people rushing backwards and forwards, talking, coughing, and sometimes yelling. Overwhelmed by the cacophony, Matt covered his ears for a moment and made an audible, “argh.”
Someone touched him on the arm, and he whipped away, shocked. “Mister, are you okay?” the person asked, and Matt stumbled back against the brick corner, tripping over a milk crate. This wasn’t him. He didn’t trip over, he didn’t spook. He was a mighty warrior of the Hand. He stood up straight.
“Are you alright? Can I help?” the woman asked again.
Oh. Maybe not a threat then. Matt cleared his throat. “No,” he said gruffly. Uneasy, the woman backed back. “Okay,” she said with a waver. “God bless.”
“God bless,” Matt whispered back at her, the words familiar and comforting even though he didn’t know why. And with that, he turned back to the alley way and returned to Elektra’s side.
“Too noisy,” he said flatly.
Elektra smiled and rubbed his arm affectionately. “You wanted to know,” she said. “Now you do.”
“I have to get used to it though – if I’m going to fight.”
Elektra sighed. If he was anything like her, it was only a matter of time before Matt’s memories started to return. She wanted to delay it, prevent him from exploring, but it pained her to deliberately block him from exploring.
“You’ll know when you’re ready, Matthew.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the dojo. “But first, I have to introduce you to swords.”
A week later, Matt ventured out again - this time in the middle of the night. He’d noticed that the sounds leaking in from the outside always died down over night, so at midnight, he trotted out through the alleyway again, searching for something, anything, that could fill the void.
He stood at the mouth of the alleyway, mapping the streets around him. To his right he could smell cooking meat, and the irritating sound of tinny music blaring from a cheap radio. He turned left, quietly padding along the sidewalk in his bare feet.
He was standing on a street corner, listening to people in their apartments when he heard approaching footsteps slow and then stop about thirty feet away. The heartrate of the stranger sky-rocketed and Matt instinctively raised his fists, ready to fight.
“Matt?” the stranger said hesitantly.
Matt bunched his fists tighter.
The man ignored Matt’s hostile stance and stepped forward. “Matt, it’s Foggy.”
Matt didn’t move.
The man’s breath shuddered. “Matt, it is you. I’m not seeing a ghost. Please… say something.” He stepped forward again, holding a shaking hand out in front of him. Matt knew he should pounce, but there was something holding him back – an instinct, an ache in his heart.
Matt tilted his head up, prompting the stranger’s heartrate to jump again. “It’s you. Matt, please tell me you’re real,” the man whispered.
The stranger knew his name. He didn’t sound particularly threatening, but Elektra had warned him that Matthew Murdock had enemies. Judging from the man’s racing heartbeat, this was probably a trick. Matt made a quick decision, whipping around and running away down the street, searching for a suitable hiding place. He crouched between a dumpster and a wall, barely daring to breathe, listening for the man’s next move.
Matt had expected him to follow, to give chase, but the stranger stood frozen to the spot. He could feel the wetness of his breath condensing as soon as it hit the winter air, and he licked his lips nervously. After five minutes, Matt lost feeling in his feet, so he quietly bounced up and down to stave off the cold. He couldn’t stay here much longer. Just as Matt was about chance another escape, the stranger started towards Matt’s hiding place. It wasn’t at pace, so Matt stayed crouched behind the dumpster until he’d passed. However, the fascination lingered. This guy knew his name. He had to know why.
Ducking back out into the street, Matt stalked after the man, keeping at least a block between them. Once or twice the stranger stopped and looked over his shoulder, and Matt would flatten himself against a wall until the man sighed and resumed walking.
Eventually, the man entered a building, climbing six floors until he reached the top. Matt strained, trying to figure out what was going on. There was a shuffling and then the man’s voice - but only his voice. “Jessica, it’s Foggy…. no, I know. I never said we were friends…. Can you just listen… I think I just saw Matt… yes, I’m sure… mostly, yeah… Hell’s Kitchen. No, just a t-shirt and pants. Not even shoes…. We need to find him…. Of course I don’t believe in ghosts…. Fuck you too.” There was sob, then a crunch as something was thrown across the room.
Matt bounced up and down on his toes as he waited for another clue, but the apartment had gone silent. He stood there until the sound of his teeth chattering was too loud to ignore, and sprinted back to Elektra.
“Elektra, there was someone I met tonight on my walk. Someone who knew me,” Matt said when he returned to the compound. He rubbed his icy arms. The run home had warmed his insides, but his skin was covered in goosebumps and his teeth chattered slightly as he waited for her response.
Elektra turned to Matt. “Did you recognize him?” She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice. This was the moment she’d been dreading - the moment he started to encounter his past life, and she’d risk losing him again.
“No. He said my name then said something about the weather.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I ran away before he could catch me.” Matt left out the bit where he followed the mysterious man home and heard him tell others about his survival.
“That’s for the best. Here, you’re freezing,” Elektra said, draping a blanket over Matt’s shoulders. Rubbing his cold hands, she added, “we can go out again together if you’d like. I’ve heard rumors that the group that bombed Midland Circle have been meeting up in an abandoned theatre. I think you’re almost ready-”
“To defend life,” Matt said.
“To defend life,” Elektra reaffirmed.