( au post ) i become location and you veer towards me.

[calltoaction]

( through darkness,
through silence,
a vector,
a violence.

i labor,
i lumber,
i fumble forward
through the valley
as winter. )

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[calltoaction]

[ There's a lot that Matt's learned since he lost the ability to see like a regular person. He's learned that there are other ways to see. That there's more information to be had in the sensory world than he could have possibly dreamed before. He knows something isn't quite right, but he isn't sure what. ]

Which means nothings changed, really.

[ Except virtually everything has for the both of them. Matt's buried his pain in ways that keep him moving. His guilt and anger twist together into a monster he's slowly learning to carry inside of him. It's a kind of monster he lets out at night against those that took all the rest of what he had.

He gets up, heading into the kitchen to get the glass of water, and makes his way back. He settles on the edge of the bed, but doesn't do more than offer the glass out. ] 'Course.

[crimewar]

[He reaches out slowly, a little strain because his head really fucking hurts and throbs at every move he makes, grabs the glass. His fingers slide haphazardly against Matt's, probably a little too long, and he sits back and nods despite himself, drinks it down in almost one big gulp. A lot of it gets on his chin, really, but he lets out a savage sigh of pleasure when he's done. There's a clink when it's set on the beside table. He'll get the motor skills back, all of it back, soon, soon.]

Thanks, Matty. You've been good to me.

[Frank's getting used to everything new about him, too--his healing from being shot, his anger, his guilt. The fact that he can't close his eyes without seeing them but their memory fading as quick as sand in his fingers. He's groaning, breathing hard as he tries to lie back down, get comfortable despite being so stiff and pained, and convinces himself he's going to live through this. He's gotta, to do what he must.]

Woke you up, didn't I?

[calltoaction]

Somebody's gotta watch your back. [ He feels like he's constantly hovering somewhere between helping and not helping too much with Frank. He needs to heal, Matt knows he needs to, for more reasons other than the fact that he's got to live. He's got reasons, but none of them are that polite shit they like to talk about with cute little positivity seminars.

He's got to live cause he's got his own hell to rain down on the criminals that did this to him and his. He's got his own peace to find.

Matt shrugs a little at the question. ] It isn't like it's a hard thing to do these days. Better you than the asshole upstairs.

[crimewar]

Well, are you gonna come back to bed, asshole, or what?

[He sounds like his old lady, really he does, but he already abhors even the idea of driving Matt out of his own silk sheet clad bed. He’s good with even the floor, though Matt won’t let him do such a thing. He’s always been good, always. He’s always had his back like that.

Frank stares at him expectantly, knows Matt can’t see him but knows he can feel him, somehow, by now, as his breath finally evens out.] You still haven’t told me everything, Matty.

[calltoaction]

I was just waiting to make sure you didn't need anything else, dick.

[ He says it with a smile that belies the insult, oddly gentle with such a coarse thing to say. He'd have a hell of a time driving him out of his bed anyway. They've been through too much for any of this to be what breaks the bond they've got going on.

Matt tries not to sigh, though, as he slides around Frank's feet to settle back on the other side of him, and rests on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow and his head, and the other slung over his own side. He's looking in Frank's direction, but not quite at him. ]

What do you mean?

[crimewar]

Ever since Kandahar, you’ve been different, besides being blind. You got some other senses or something going. I know it. You don’t gotta hide that shit from me, Red, and I think I’ve healed enough from being a vegetable to understand big concepts like this now.

[Frank looks him in the eyes out of habit, feels the urge to reach out his hand and it’s absurd but he does, blames it on the hole in his head because it’s apparently in the right place to blame it. He traces the sensitive area around his eyes where he remembers the chemicals burning him, remembers Matt screaming, feels only faint scars.]

What’d they do to you?

[calltoaction]

I'm not really sure how to explain it, really. Not sure anyone would believe me. [ Beat. ] Hell, I don't know if I believe me some days.

[ Matt knows Frank is reaching out, and stays still next to him, not pulling away as the other man traces the chemical burn scars along the sides of his eyes where his crow's feet are. Most people wouldn't notice them. Then again, most people weren't there when it happened. Frank was.

He offers a small half-shrug with his left shoulder, pulling in a breath and letting it out slowly. ]

I'm---I'm blind, sure, but not completely. It's---like everything else is amplified, to a ridiculous extreme, and it all turns into this kind of feedback that I can make a picture out of.

[crimewar]

[He traces over the cheeks with his fingers too, unsure of what he's doing now because he does like the contact, he does, even if he won't admit it. Even if all he wants is for this to be Maria or Lisa or Frankie and it's fucked up but he's fucked up now, a mess and a zombie in the head, and Matty wouldn't judge him for it.

He takes everything Matt says in, knows it sounds hard to believe but anything in their world is, isn't it? He'd been there, with him, when it happened, and after all they've been through. he'd believe anything Matt tells him.] Explains a lot about you lately, Red. I believe you. There's others like you, metahumans or whatever they're called. Considered going to them for help?

[calltoaction]

[ When his fingers gently find their way to his cheeks, he tilts his face into the caress, chasing after the trail of warmth. He knows that there's something different with the way Frank Castle views the world. How sometimes he seems lost somewhere else, picking up on things that Matt can't comprehend.

It's never really mattered, though.

It does sound hard to believe. If Matt didn't know what it is that he sensed and saw, he wouldn't believe it. ] I don't care what they're called. They can't help me. Not with this. [ Not with how he's been making use of his new circumstances. Not with how he plans to continue using them. ] Besides, who knows if they'd really believe that all I see now is a world on fire?

Sounds a little far-fetched.

[crimewar]

Well, it's an option if you ever think you may just need it, Matty. [Frank doesn't really care about teamwork or any of that bullshit. He's got Matt here, and if anyone else wants to help then he's fine with it unless they don't, then they better just stay out of his way. The world's easier, like this, when it's all a war zone, and his heart thumps a little fast at the idea of being relieved of his family because this is his true nature, isn't it?

He drops his hand, rugged sigh escaping.] Yeah. Ain't no one believing me either, with the story that Reyes witch is spinning about the babies. World's a shitty place, all of it, not just Iraq and Afghanistan and wherever. You don't need 'em.

[calltoaction]

I don't want it. I want justice. [ For Frank and his family. His wife. His children. For Jack, his dad, beaten to death alone in their home and shot point blank. ]

Reyes. [ He sneers it, curling a little more in on himself. He doesn't like her. They still don't know her full connection to all of this, just what she's already tried to do. He wants answers, he wants them for both of them.

He'll take them by force if he has to. ]

[crimewar]

Yeah. We'll get it. For your old man, too.

[ Frank just sounds exhausted, and if he's honest he is. He just wants Maria, Lisa, Frankie. He misses them, the sound of their laugh, waking up in the morning to Maria smothering him with kisses or the sound of Lisa practicing her recorder.

But he still has a lot to do. He lies back. ] There were three groups there the day my family was killed. Irish, Dogs of Hell, and the Cartel. From what I remember. Think I'll start with the bikers, when I'm healed up proper.

[calltoaction]

I know.

[ Matt can hear the exhaustion. He's been there, he felt it before, but not on the same level. Trying to reclaim his own life after losing his sight had been like trying to run a marathon when he was already worn down to nothing. He can't imagine it on Frank's level. Sure, the lost his dad, but Frank---]

Have to get some gear. They won't know what hit them. [ A soft scoff of breath, almost a laugh. ] You know my old man---he never wanted me to use my fists.

[crimewar]

I already got gear. [Frank thinks of Micro, too, but doesn't bring him up now. For now, he's got enough to work on his own, knows how to build his own arsenal from here on out.

For the better part of his life, Frank Castle had fought another man's war. Now it only feels proper that he makes his own. The urge for violence, bloodshed, the voices in his head that love it -- it makes it feel right. Frank rolls to sit up against the headboard, dizziness washing over him as he curses about it.] My old lady would hate what I'm about to do. Never liked hearing about all the people I killed, wanted me to go to therapy for it. Maria always had good ideas.

[calltoaction]

Then I will. At least some kind of armor. Not what I've been using.

[ Which is just shin and arm pads, a black mask half covering his face, thin shirt, cargo pants, combat boots and his banto sticks. Frank would hate the shit if he saw it.

Not like it would stop a bullet. ]

Yeah, she did. [ Kids, too. More than once "Uncle Matt" had ended up in an elaborate fort or playing some elaborate imaginary game with them. ]

[crimewar]

What you've been using--Murdock, what the fuck are you doing? [Frank looks at him so he really feels the heat behind the words because really, what the fuck are they doing?] You're being an idiot again, aren't you?

My point was she's got--she had--great ideas but we gotta do what we have to do. I won't rest until they've all paid. I can't.

[calltoaction]

I'm doing what I have to, Castle. [ He can still feel the heat of the glare, and he shifts, moving to sit up cross-legged in the bed.

The light coming in through the frosted and painted windows highlights new scars on his body, but not his face. ] No more than usual. Well, maybe a little more.

Guess we're stuck this way, then. Until it's done.

[crimewar]

Christ, Murdock. Did you join a blind fight club?

[A hand goes out to touch the scars but he thinks better of it, halfway there, and lets the hand fall.] Yeah. Guess we are. Don't get yourself killed.

[calltoaction]

I've been talking to people.

[ With his fists. He shifts over a little, tugging at his jogging pant legs, but doesn't yet lay down. ] Not planning on it. Can't say the same for the other guys.

Don't worry about me, Castle. I'll look into something. I think I know a guy who can help.

[crimewar]

[His response is gruff, succinct as ever, gaze set on Matt's bruised form.] Do you?

[calltoaction]

Yeah, I do. And if I'm wrong, I've got Claire.

[ She's already patched him up so many times. ]

[crimewar]

That’s how you met her.

You got me, if you need me, Red. When I’m back to my senses anyway.

[calltoaction]

Met is an interesting word for that.

[ She and her neighbor drug him out of a dumpster half-dead. ]

I know I do, but try not to rush it. You need time to heal. These assholes aren't going anywhere.

[crimewar]

Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. [He turns to face Matt fully, cheek against the pillow.] How’d you meet Temple, then?

[calltoaction]

[ Matt gives a rueful smile when he asks that. It was a bad night. That was an understatement. ]

She drug me out of a dumpster with the help of a neighbor and tried to keep me from dying on her couch.