Do You Know Where the Wilds Things Go

Lyra Silvermen & Matthew Murdock








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Lyra Silvermen | Blogger Extraordinaire

The past year had been a hell of a roller coaster ride for Lyra Silvermen. Since moving back to Hell's Kitchen, her life had been turned upside down. It began when she was walking home from her job at the Daily Bugle late one night. Two low-lives had tried to mug her, but before she could sustain any serious harm; the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had saved her. It had been that night which shaped her interest in the heroes, though some referred to them as vigilantes that had been cropping up all over New York. Her interest was her own borough, Hell's Kitchen. At first it was only the Devil, and Lyra would "find" herself in bits of trouble. Barking up trees that would lead to thugs targeting her, and always the Devil would come to her rescue. It was an odd friendship, it began with her trying to coax bits of perspective out of him for her blog about vigilantes. Over the year it had shifted to something... Different. The Devil showing up late at night, crouched on her fire escape and tapping the window like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Lyra? She'd always leave out a coffee and Tylenol for him. She was no nurse, and when he came he was normally already patched up.

It was strange, but she was relieved that he had someone else looking out for him. Lyra, trying to dig out why exactly he felt compelled to run and protect around a borough that was half in awe, and half-afraid of him. Sometimes he'd vent, talking about how what he did was justified as he protected those the law could not. The victims of rapists that walked because there wasn't enough evidence. The abusers that went back to their victims because they were too frightened to testify. Sometimes he'd forlornly talk about an escaped lead, once or twice he'd mentioned his vigilante work was taking a toll on his personal life. And Lyra? She kept note of it all, it went onto the blog and he didn't seem to mind. Her job had taken notice of it a few months ago, and tasked her with vigilante and hero news. A welcome over the sports they had her reporting on previously. And people had taken to her blog. Where before she had a handful of followers it sometimes felt like the entire borough was following, watching, reading, holding their collective breath to see what the Devil would do next. By the end of the year, most people were more on his side than not- and the Devil had a new name. Daredevil.

In her opinion it was better than the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. That had been a mouthful. Then things shifted once again between them. He stopped coming by as often, and she began worrying more. People still emailed her videos and photos of his recent encounters, and she noted his new suit, but best of all- that he was alive. And then it happened for the first time, what he warned her about. Lyra got dragged into the Devil's battles. They had taken her at home, fucking ninjas and she could not convey how grossly shocked she was to have been kidnapped by ninjas. A part of her had been scared, terrified especially when they'd shot that man... But she was convinced that he was going to come. She was sitting on the cold concrete floor, people shouting all around them, sniffled cries when he came; bursting through the door like the picture of God's wrath. It'd been awhile since she'd seen the Devil in action and her breath caught in her throat. She had sensed the urgency when he hurried to her, cutting her binds and carefully, awkwardly even, laid a hand out resting it on her shoulder. "You need to get out of here. Stay safe." And like that he was gone. She wanted to protest, call out to him warn him to be careful but it was pointless. It was in a haze that she made her way back out to the other victims, keeping her head low as she darted to the safety of the police.

The fight she was sure had been bloody and brutal, but she'd been escorted back behind the police to see any of it. And then, after minutes passed and statements were taken- they were told to go home. Stay by the phone in case the police needed them. She'd taken a taxi, her thoughts stuck back at the warehouse with the Devil; praying to a god she did not believe in that he was safe. And then, nothing. Nothing for an entire week. Tonight she'd spent most of it on her fire whispering "please." under her breath. No one had seen or heard from Daredevil in his week of absence. Something had happened she was sure of it- but what? Lyra had no way of contacting him. When it had gotten too cold she'd climbed back through her window into her flat, though didn't give up her silent vigil for the vigilante. Shivering, leaning out of her open window she peered down the fire escape. About to give up she turned, when after she had taken a few steps further into her home when she heard it- the gentle tapping. Like a child Lyra spun, and there he was. Reminding herself not to run, she walked briskly to the window, opening it and wordlessly letting him in. Daredevil stood for a few minutes without saying anything and unable to help she finally broke the silence. "Where have you been? I thought you were dead. No one's seen you since the warehouse- what happened, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

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James Barnes | Fallen Soldier

If you ask Steve who Bucky is, he'll answer without hesitation a good man. His friend. A war hero. His best friend. If you ask Tony Stark, he'll scowl, spit out like the words were venom that he was a murderer. A war criminal and an assasain. The media would paint him in the light Tony Stark painted Bucky Barnes, and a bomber to ice the cake of reputation. But if you asked Bucky Barnes who he was? Well... He couldn't answer you. Bucky knew he had done horrible, horrible things. Every night when he closed his eyes he saw them all. The faces of the people he killed or hurt. Faces of their loved ones. Faces of HYDRA. Sometimes on a good night he saw friends. Steve, Sam, T'Challa- people who didn't want him dead. After the events of Civil War, Bucky Barnes was a broken and scarred man. Steve had tried to help him at first, but nothing seemed to get through to the brunette. Often times he'd spend the day sat on his bed, staring out the window vacantly. It was a last ditch-effort when Steve packed up Buck's things and moved him to Marlene Davis. He'd heard Steve mentioning that name before- but he could only catch glimpses of blonde hair and stunning eyes that haunted his mind's eye at night.

He felt drawn just to her name, no matter how fucking stupid it sounded. A month after what the media had dubbed, "The Heroes' Civil War, Bucky found himself going from living to Steve, to living with Marlene. When he first met her, Bucky nearly felt like throwing up. The petite blonde, with her sharp, angular jawline and the obvious love in her eyes was someone he'd seen in his dreams. Someone he could not remember. He used to think the face was an angel, but years ago Bucky gave up god. Steve explained that she'd grown up with them; that she and Bucky were very close. In love even. Bucky tried to picture someone like her loving beast like him now; and it almost made him laugh. Then, after introductions and making sure he wouldn't hurt her- Steve was gone. Marlene seemed just as anxious as Bucky, her large eyes watching him with a sense of... of something that he couldn't, no didn't want to figure out. Not now. Bucky didn't think that anyone who knew the things his hands had done could look at him with anything but disgust. Like Tony did.

It took a whole three months for Bucky to stop spending his days locked up in the room which was provided to him. Day by day he'd begun to explore more of the house, though like a skittish cat he was still weary about being around Marlene. Bucky could tell that Marlene thought that he didn't like her- but that wasn't the case. He was terrified that the HYDRA in his head was going to push him to hurt her. That his hands would squeeze the life out of them like he had done to Tony's mother. Because this implicit trust that Marlene seemed to have in him, Bucky did not share. It wasn't until one particular hot spring day did she burst into his room, the noise startling the brunette up onto his feet, hands curled. He relaxed upon seeing Marlene; though stiffened when she reached out, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Come on you, can't spend a day like this locked up in your room. We're going out to get some ice cream. You like ice cream." Did he? Bucky had nodded and allowed her to tug him from the room to the door. While the day had been stressful, it had been fun as they walked about the streets of Brooklyn. Sure enough, Bucky really enjoyed chocolate ice cream.

A few hazy memories of walking around with Marlene had come back to him that day. Dancing, exhibitions, Cony Island with Marlene, Steve, and.... And someone else he couldn't remember. After that day Bucky had begun to spend more time out of his room. More time with Marlene desperately trying to recover the life they'd shared before it'd all gone to hell. Today Bucky was sprawled out on the couch, waiting for Marlene to come home. His memory journal was on the coffee table, it's pages open to a memory so fresh that the ink was still drying. All it read was, "Steve's mom used to make chicken noodle soup for us; even though she didn't have the money." The ink was blotchy in some part, but it was still legible. He was still reading over the print trying so hard to more vividly recall the memory when the door swung open. Like clockwork Bucky was on his feet, heading towards the hall to greet Marlene. "How was your day? I remembered Sarah making you, Steve, and I soup." There was almost a child-like joy with himself as he spoke, voice gravely and coarse. Whether it was time, or Marlene he felt like he was remembering more these days. Like, there was a clearer path to being the Bucky that Steve and Marlene remembered; not the one who still had night terrors so bad he woke up hollering, choking, and sometimes vomiting.

Marlene Davis | The One Left Behind

Marlene had been shocked when the news of Cap being found in the ice came to her. She'd been there when Howard gave it his all and tried to find him to no avail. And she'd also been there for Peggy as the brunette mourned the death of the man she so clearly loved. They were both there for each other. It had taken Marlene a while to come to terms with Bucky's death. The men had shown up at his mother's apartment one afternoon when she was over visiting and, in a matter of minutes, her whole world came crashing down around her. Most women tried moving on, but she couldn't. She ended up volunteering for a series of experiments the SSR were conducting as they attempted to recreate the super soldier serum. She was one of very few surviving test subjects. Of course, it took her a while to realize some of the less obvious side effects. Some were obvious from the get-go, strength, agility etc. But others, caused by her increased metabolism, were less obvious until twenty years had passed, and she still didn't look a day over twenty-five. To this day, she still looked the same. She watched countless people she cared about, both friends and family, grow old and eventually pass on. Steve's return had shocked her, but the news that Bucky, her Bucky, was still out there had taken the cake.

Helping Steve look for him after everything had happened in DC seemed like a no-brainer. If the roles were reversed, she knew that he would do the same for her. She understood that he wasn't the same anymore, that he'd been brainwashed and used by Hydra for seventy some odd years, but that changed nothing. It was still Bucky. He was the man she was going to marry when he came home after the war. Time hadn't changed how she felt about him. It hadn't changed the fact that she cared about him deeply, and so she'd helped search for him for two whole years after the disaster in DC to no avail. She'd known that something wasn't right when his name was suddenly plastered across television screens and in newspapers over the bombing that had occurred during the United Nations meeting. She had searched all over for him for two whole years. Steve and Sam had searched for two years on and off. They all had come up empty-handed. Someone laying low wouldn't make their whereabouts so obviously known without a good reason.

Though she hadn't gotten involved with the whole Sokovia Accords decision, she'd decided to remain out of the spotlight for the most part once SHIELD fell two years prior, she couldn't say no when Steve called and asked her if Bucky could stay with her for a while. This was the man she'd spent two years searching for. She would have continued searching if she needed to. Truthfully, there wasn't a single thing she wouldn't do for James Barnes. Housing him while he and Steve were both still technically wanted by the government wasn't an exception to that fact either.

Marlene gave him space for a while. As much as it pained her to see him lock himself up in his room like he had, she knew that he needed time. And she gave him time for three whole months before deciding that she couldn't allow or stand for it any longer. He couldn't stay locked up in there and avoid her forever. She managed to get him out of his room and the apartment that very afternoon. He still liked chocolate ice cream, a discovery that brought a small smile to her face. And things started looking up from there. He spent less and less time locked up in his room and more and more time with her. She helped patch up the holes in his memory whenever she could. She knew that he remembered her a lot better now, but she could tell that their relationship wasn't one that he remembered fully. Knowing that was difficult, but she tried not to let it get to her. It wasn't his fault, and everything would come back in time. She was just glad that he was back in her life.

While he was much more comfortable around her than he'd been when Steve first brought him over, she knew the idea of being out in Brooklyn still made him a bit nervous. She didn't push him too much, though she had managed to convince him to come outside with her every so often, and she often allowed him to remain in the apartment while she went about her usual routine each day. On that particular day, she'd gone for a run in the morning, went back to the apartment, showered, ate breakfast, and ran a few errands, including a quick stop at the grocery store, before returning to the apartment some time in the mid-afternoon. She balanced the grocery bags on her knee while she unlocked the door before walking inside. When Steve first brought Bucky over, it would have surprised her for him to greet her, but that wasn't the case anymore. He'd made a great deal of progress since Steve first brought him to her apartment. "It wasn't too bad. You didn't miss me too much, did you?" She asked with a slight smirk as she handed him the groceries. "That's right, it was chicken noodle, wasn't it?"

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Matthew Murdock | The Vigilante

Matt didn’t know why he kept returning to her apartment. Something about Lyra Silvermen just peaked his interest. He knew that, after the first incident with those muggers, she’d started purposely finding trouble. He wasn’t stupid, but he allowed for it to continue persisting for a while because he knew she wasn’t in any real trouble. Not with him around anyway, and he knew that she knew that too. He’d know if any of the trouble she happened to find herself in was of any real concern. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t been keeping tabs on her from the first night on. He really didn’t know what it was about her that peaked his interest. Maybe it was amusement over her purposely looking for trouble so that he’d show up. Maybe it was her obvious persistence in trying to get information out of him for her blog. There were numerous other possibilities as well, so he still didn’t really know the answer.

He knew that she’d noticed him appearing on her fire escape less and less frequently. He wasn’t purposely trying to distance himself from her at the time, though a part of him wished that he had. Maybe the Hand wouldn’t have gone after her if he hadn’t. He knew that wasn’t the case. With how many times that he’d “rescued” her, odds were that they would have come for her regardless of whether he started showing up at her apartment time and time again. That didn’t make him feel any better about any of it though. Her association with him had put her in harm’s way. He didn’t know what he would have done if something had happened to her that night.

He kept his distance for a while after that. A few weeks went by. Elektra was buried. He’d revealed his identity of Daredevil to Karen. Nelson and Murdock no longer existed, and his friendship with Foggy was strained at best. Everything had kind of gone to shit. And maybe that was why he found himself back on her fire escape, tapping against her window lightly as he once had numerous times over. He was being selfish. That was what he was telling himself right now anyway. He’d allowed her to end up in harm’s way because of him once before, and distancing himself from her would have been for the best, but he honestly just needed someone to talk to right now. There weren’t very many people out there who he hadn’t somehow managed to piss off, and he honestly wouldn’t be all that surprised if she was pissed off at him too. Maybe they all could start a club. He thought bitterly as he waited for her to open the apartment window. He knew that she was home. He could hear her heart beating, and the television was on, playing a rerun of some sitcom that he didn’t know the name of.

She’d been out on the fire escape not long before he’d made his descent. He’d spent a great deal of time up on the roof of her apartment building, debating on whether or not to go see her. He’d heard her whispers and pleads for him to show up. When he’d heard her go back inside, he’d almost left. But the selfish part in him had won out. He hadn't been waiting on her fire escape very long at all when he heard the window open. He gave her time to move out of the way before climbing inside. He didn't say anything and instead allowed for her to speak first. Truthfully, he didn't know what to say to her. So much had happened. He didn't want to complain about all of the shit going on in his life. He wasn't the type of person to get weepy about that kind of stuff and go all woe-is-me, so he bit his tongue and waited for her to speak.

"I'm fine..." He said quietly. "A lot has happened..."

Lyra Silvermen | Blogger Extraordinaire

Even in his worst moments, there was a spark- a fight in him. Now? She couldn't see it. He stood near the window, as if ready to flee at any moment. From what parts of his face were exposed behind the mask she could see bits of nasty healing bruises. Angry purples fading into greens and yellows; it looked painful. "I'm fine..." There was a pause as he softly conceded, "A lot has happened." She knew that much. The Punisher was back the city wanted to blame every hit and death on him, there were still whispers of an indestructible bartender, and a freakishly strong P.I. But right now? She could care less about the vigilante crap. "You look like you could use a cup of coffee." She finally sighed, turning and moving towards her kitchen. That 70's Show played in the background, as a white noise. She'd been using the TV as a distraction to try to stop worrying about The Devil. It was more routine than anything else as she poured coffee into a mug, leaving it black as he normally drank it. Part of her was still having a hard time believing that he was really here.

For an entire week, there hadn't been any sightings of Daredevil. And of course she had assumed the worse, how could she not? He had followed her into the kitchen area, leaning against the island of the kitchen. He hadn't offered anymore conversation and Lyla wasn't entirely sure what to even ask. "Here." Holding out the mug she waited until he'd taken it before dropping her hands back to her sides. Under the dim lights of her kitchen, the glow illuminated the bruising in a way that made her stomach twist a little. "Let me see, yeah?" It was more a statement than anything as she approached, carefully tilting his face down for a better visual. They didn't look swollen, anymore Lyla would guess, but they still looked painful. "Finish your coffee Matt, and then talk. What happened last week? All of this is off-record if you're worried about that." Letting go, she lowered her hands once again. Glancing over her shoulder the clock read midnight; and Lyla was thankful he'd at least dropped by on a day she didn't have to go into work. It was a hike getting to her job and she was getting older, old enough that all-nighters took their toll eventually.

Matt was quiet as he did as Lyla bade, leaving the young woman to her thoughts. There was sorrow etched onto that face that she hadn't seen quite as poignantly before. Loss that made him seem older than his years, and while it wasn't the first time, it was the most prominent to see the kind of toll the life he'd chose exacted on him. He had said before that this life wasn't easy. Once or twice he talked about the way it affected his day job, and his other relations. Sometimes she figured that's why he stopped by; to talk to someone who didn't, well couldn't judge him by who he was during the day- because besides the name he'd given her Lyla simply didn't know who he was under the mask. Thankfully she had the sense to make coffee before he'd shown up and because of that was still enjoying the buzz of the three coffee's she'd brewed for herself before Matt's arrival, the petite woman watched as steam rose from whatever was remaining in Matt's coffee. Hefting herself up onto the counter she glanced at the oven's clock again. Twelve-fifteen.

Hefting herself up onto the counter, she crossed her arms unable to take the silence anymore. "Alright, what happened that night? One minute I was sitting at my computer finishing up an article for the newspaper, and the next... Well ninjas kind of swarmed the place. It was a trap, to what? Try to kill you? I've been trying to make sense of it for a week Matt- but frankly none of this makes any sense whatsoever. Why did you disappear? Talk to me." Questions poured out of her like a river, the jumbled bits of that night she was trying to recall. Most of it was a blur, some of it felt like a dream; the therapist the police had made her talk with before sending her home had said that was trauma, events her brain couldn't process at the moment. But Matt didn't need to know that part. He had a tendency to blame himself when Daredevil couldn't save anyone, and the last thing Lyla wanted was for him to disappear, or blame himself. From the expression on his face, she'd guess he had enough on his plate to deal with. And she was an adult, Lyla could handle her own psyche. And what mattered at the end of the day? She was here, still alive and kicking- she didn't plan on changing that any time soon.

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James Barnes | Fallen Soldier

Bucky flushed when she asked if he missed her. He did in his own way, it was quiet and boring back home with no one to talk to. When he was alone he could think; and thinking was dangerous. He had time to think about all the people he hurt. All the things people had done to hurt him. The metal arm was a disgusting relic of HYDRA that felt violating. He'd wanted it off, but Steve said to just wait until he could either convince Tony which would likely happen when hell froze over or he could find someone else to do it. The man which had grown exceptionally large at the airport had excitedly volunteered one Hank Pym to take a look at it. They were supposed to be coming by sometime this month to do so. "I did miss you." He finally muttered, albeit a tad shyly as he helped lift the groceries out of her arms; making his way to the kitchen. Emotions like this were a new thing. For seventy years his brain had been in a heightened sense of fight or flight, there wasn't any reason to have luxury emotions like joy, or a sense of relaxation. "It was good. I liked chicken noodle soup." He agreed as he entered the small kitchen. He knew where everything went, as he insisted on helping out around the house.

Laundry was still something he wasn't terribly great at, but he managed to do it without damaging anyone's clothes. His folds were neat and precise though, as if he were still in the military. With Bucky around, floors were clean, beds were made, and clothes were folded neatly and put away. Since Marlene and Steve agreed he couldn't go out on his own too often, the official reason being the fact he was still technically wanted by the government; though Bucky kind of thought they were both afraid he'd run away again. "Is there any news about the Avengers? Did Steve get his name cleared yet?" He hated watching the news for this kind of information. They painted Steve, Steve, the kid who in most his memories was getting beat up for being a noble sod, as a criminal. That he acted outside the law. But Bucky knew he'd only done so for the greater good of humans. He made quick work of sorting through the groceries she'd brought home, his eyes lighting up to find a bag of plums for him. Taking one out and biting into it, and leaning against the counter he finished his bite before asking quietly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

He didn't particularly like asking Marlene for anything. She was nice enough to put up with him, and was risking her job, career, and freedom to keep him housed with her. She kept him clothed and fed without asking for anything in return. When Bucky felt he was trudging through mud in terms of progress, she was always there to encourage him. If he couldn't remember something, she'd suggest triggers that might help jog a memory. Like the ice cream. And when she realized he liked plums, almost every trip back from the store there was a bag of the dark purple fruit for him. But, he couldn't very well cut his own hair; and Bucky honestly didn't remember the last time he looked like himself. The him before falling off a train. He wanted to look like himself as much as possible. The Bucky that Steve and Marlene knew. "Can you cut this? It's going to be too hot to keep it like this. And if I do it there'll probably be spots I miss." Bucky didn't mention that he didn't really trust himself with any sharp objects that could hurt someone. He felt like a child sometimes, but he only hoped that Marlene was right. That he was getting better everyday. Hell, maybe one day he could be the Bucky they all knew.

It wasn't like he didn't want to get better; because this limbo where he could recall some foggy memories of the life that James Barnes had, and the clearer, violent memories of the Winter Solider was distressing to say the least. "I can call Steve if you don't want to. 'S okay." He added, his metal fingers tapping against the counter he was leaned against, the plum in the hand that was still his and solely his forgotten as he spoke. Steve had said that he and Marlene were close before the war. And he believed the blonde; and wished he could recall more of it. Sometimes he thought he could remember kisses stolen in the dark of a theater; but maybe it was a dream. But it was in those moments, the memories of the three of them piled into Steve's tiny apartment with Sarah that felt like peace to Bucky. It was when he thought that maybe he was losing control that he dug out his notebook of pathetic scrappy little memories and tried to bring himself to that peace. And maybe it was working, after all he didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. He didn't want anything to do with heroes or saving- he just wanted to be normal; he was done with wars and battles; he has his inner wars to wage anyway and Bucky wasn't sure if he'd ever win that.

Marlene Davis | The One Left Behind

Marlene couldn’t help smiling when he admitted that he’d missed her. She’d only been teasing, though it was nice hearing him say that. Truthfully, when he was avoiding her in the beginning, she’d sort of questioned whether he liked her or not. She’d known she shouldn’t have taken it personally, but part of her had. It was just nice knowing that he enjoyed being around her now as much as she enjoyed being around him. “I missed you too.” She said as she followed him into the kitchen. And she had. Maybe it was silly of her to say that considering she’d just seen him a few hours ago, but she’d spent seventy years thinking that he was gone. She cherished every moment that she had with him now, even if he didn’t remember most things about their past relationship. None of that mattered to her now. She was just glad to have him there with her.

“We could always try making it.” She told him as she put the half-gallon of milk into the fridge. “Chicken noodle soup, I mean. I’m not sure if it’d be as good as Sarah’s though, but I don’t think we really have too much to lose.” She punctuated her words with a slight shrug of her shoulders. She figured that it might be fun. When she was home, she liked to try to keep him occupied. She knew that simply allowing him to get lost in his own thoughts was not a good thing. So, she tried keeping him busy. She let him help out around the apartment. Sometimes they watched movies together. She tried helping him piece together the hazier memories whenever she could. Anything to keep him from thinking too much about what Hydra had put him through. That was a subject that they hadn’t really touched upon yet, and she didn’t want to push him to talk either. If he wanted to tell her, he would. She wouldn’t force him to tell her anything that he didn’t want to tell her. His freedom had been taken from him entirely for over seventy years, and she refused to allow for that to continue being the case. With her, he didn’t have to do something if he didn’t want to. He didn’t have to talk him he didn’t want to. If he wanted to stay hauled up in his room he could. He chose to spend time with her now, and that really meant a lot to her. Probably more than he realized.

“I don’t think so, no.” She shook her head. She knew that he hated knowing that Steve was being painted as a criminal. That was something that she never thought she’d ever see happen. She knew that he’d do it all over again if he had to though. He’d always had Bucky’s back, and vice-versa, and that wasn’t something that even time could change. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips when she noticed his eyes light up when he discovered the bag of plums she’d picked up at the store for him. She always made sure that she had things in the apartment that he liked as well. She wanted him to feel comfortable and wanted there. She didn’t want him to think that he was some sort of a burden to her in any way, shape or form because he wasn’t at all. She wanted him there. She was glad that Steve had asked her to do this, and she wouldn’t change her mind if the opportunity were to present itself. She wanted Bucky there, and that was that.

“Of course, what’s up?” She asked as she shut the fridge. She didn’t know what sort of favor he’d be asking her, but again she didn’t want him to think he was a burden or that he was bothering her because he wasn’t. Not even a little bit. She’d agreed to have him stay here with her because she wanted to help, and she hoped that it he realized that. She knew that she was pretty much risking everything by having him here with her, but she didn’t care. She’d known the moment Steve asked her if Bucky could stay with her what she was risking, and it hadn’t mattered to her then and it certainly didn’t matter to her now either.

“You don’t have to call Steve, Bucky. I don’t mind doing it.” She assured him with a small smile. She could tell that he didn’t like asking her for favors, but she really didn’t mind helping him at all. That was the whole point of him being here. She was supposed to be doing what she could to help him. She definitely felt like he was getting better and better each day, and she had a feeling that she knew why he’d want to cut his hair, and it wasn’t necessarily the warmer weather that was fast approaching. He wanted to look more like the man he once was, and if cutting his hair would help, she’d help him do it. “If you need something, anything, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask, alright? I’m not just here to look pretty, though I think I do a pretty good job with that regardless.”

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Matthew Murdock | The Vigilante

Matt was exhausted. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Just in every sense of the world really. When he first became Daredevil, things were constantly happening, and there was this constant motion of go go go, but it was different now. So much was going on. So much had already happened, and the weight of it all was sort of just crashing down onto his shoulders all at once. For a while, he’d felt as though he’d had complete control of his life. He’d known where things were going and that all changed when he chose to do whatever he could to protect Hell’s Kitchen. He just never imagined that it would ever get as bad as it was now. He hated putting it all down onto someone, and he didn’t want to whine about all of his problems to her, but he definitely felt like he needed to talk to someone. There was just so much that he felt he needed to get off of his chest, and the first person he’d thought to come to was Lyra.

The thing was, he didn’t really know where to start though. How exactly could he begin to explain all of the shit that had essentially hit the fan all at once? He was trying to figure that out when she offered to make some coffee, something that he had never once turned down in the past, and so he followed her into her kitchen. It may have been a bit since he’d last been to her apartment, but the surroundings were ones that he had become familiar enough with previously, so he knew where he was going.

He took the slightly warm cup from her hands, though he nearly dropped it when she placed her hands on his face and started assessing the bruises that he knew were there. They weren’t fresh ones, but they were tender enough, and obviously noticeable if she was concerned enough to check him over. “I’ve had worse.” He told her. It was the first words he’d spoken to her since entering her apartment. Part of him was trying to avoid the inevitable conversation that was going to happen. While he wanted to talk to someone about everything, part of him didn’t, because that meant fully admitting everything that had happened as of late to himself. And he really didn’t know if he’d done that just yet. He supposed he’d know soon enough though.

“I really don’t know where to start…” He sighed, setting the now empty cup of coffee down onto the counter. He didn’t know how much to tell her. He knew that he was putting her more at risk by telling her everything. She already knew more than she probably should about him. He knew plenty of people who could easily use that kind of information against him, and he also knew that none of them had any qualms in their ability to obtain that information if they really wanted it. “You can’t tell anyone any of this if I tell you, Lyra…you just—you need to understand that knowing this kind of information could easily put you in harm’s way. I don’t want that, and you need to understand that there are people out there who already know about me coming here to see you.”

Lyra Silvermen | Blogger Extraordinaire

He was being careful around her, and a part of Lyra was appreciative of this. She knew easily that if someone could put two and two together, that she and the Devil had frequent conversations that it would put her at risk. People would make the jump that she knew him, his identity. And, while she had a plethora of mace, even a taser- Lyra was under no illusions. It was very likely that if someone figured out it was her who was behind the screen of her vigilante blog, well that could certainly spell trouble. "This stays between us. I swear. Besides, I'm always careful about leaving my name off the blog." Of course, his ninja rivals had still found her... Maybe Lyra should ask about that but first she'd let him speak. It took him a few more minutes but eventually he began opening up what he'd been up to in the past months that he'd tried very hard to keep her out of. Matt's hesitancy was clear in the way he spoke, but the more he explained the less he held himself back.

He talked about how the work he did at night, affected what he did during the day more than ever these past few months. He felt like he'd lost friends, and as Lyra came to find- actually did lose someone. An old flame. Her heart clenched at how forlorn he looked about that bit. And so, that's why he had disappeared the last week. To bury the flame which had been extinguished. Why he had stayed away from Lyra, and vigilante work the past week. Lyra knew that the vigilante life-style wasn't a charmed one. It was difficult, demanding, taxing. Took tolls on you in ways that you couldn't really imagine. That had been a point that he'd mentioned a couple times before. But, Lyra couldn't recall him losing someone close to him before. Lyra could understand his mood now. It must feel like he was losing all the things he'd had before. Friends, a lover... Matt must of finally felt like his vigilante life had taken over his day-life.

"I'm so sorry Mattie. Loss is a hard thing to cope with, hero or no." Lyra offered in a quiet, placating tone. "If all you just told me is true, she damned well thought you were worth it Matt. She probably realized that you both weren't... Getting off that rooftop. So, her call to protect you- you couldn't of changed that. You just gotta do your best to keep living. And your friends? They'll come around. It'd be like... They have this one image of you. Then, you tell them that you go and beat up bad guys at night. It's a culture shock." She paused and shrugged. "I consider you a friend, but I met you as Daredevil. I mean if you take the mask off and tell me that you're a garbage man or something, I'll be very shocked." She tried to lighten the mood, offering a thin smile. before sighing heavily.

"Things suck now, they look really dark. But you know what they say right? It's always darkest before the dawn." She paused a moment before hastily adding, "It's actually darkest around midnight, so right now this is your midnight. Just keep pushing through, because it's all you can do. Keep doing what you're doing, make sure that what happened last week didn't just happen for nothing." She offered, a small frown on her lips. She had lost family before, but never an ex. Not that she had many of those. The clock kept ticking, and the night kept waning though she paid no attention to this. Rather she slid off the counter her feet landing lightly against the floor. "And, I'm always here if you wanna talk. 'S what friends are for right? So, if the vigilante stuff feels like it's too much, or you feel alone just remember my door- or I guess more accurately my window, is open."

Maybe after this talk she should write down her email for Matt once again, so she didn't have to worry about him for the next time it seemed he disappeared. "You don't have to feel like you need to shoulder all this alone. I'm well aware of the danger that can arise of you talking to me, however slim it is, so don't disappear anymore." It was more of a command than a statement. A lot of terrible things had happened in the week, if the rest of Matt's outside world felt like it was falling apart, she would at least make him feel like he had some normality here. She wouldn't throw him a pity party, because pity led to people getting stuck; and Matthew needed to bounce back from this. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be for the best if she didn't treat him like a fragile child. At least, that's what she figured. When something terrible happened to Lyra she disliked having it become the center of the universe. She needed distractions, to act like it never happened for a little bit- and day by day it would get easier to deal. She just hoped that she was helping her masked friend, rather than making him worse.

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James Barnes | Fallen Soldier

Bucky had perked up as Marlene offered they could try to make chicken noodle soup. It'd been awhile since he had it and it was something he was looking forward to. "Okay." He mumbled. It may of come as a shock- but he wasn't totally useless in the kitchen. He actually liked the activity. It took his mind off other things and was a repetitive task that required just enough attention to be able to focus on something other than the ghosts in his brain. He was always busy doing little things around the house. Watching movies with Marlene, writing in his memory journal- chores... They were all tools in his arsenal of staying out of his own head. At least for the time being. "I don't think so." She spoke and he glanced her way, his lips pursing into a frown. Steve being in trouble? His fault, and after all the blonde had done to try to get him back, the man that was like his brother, well he was in all this trouble because of him. Bucky disliked that fact to put it lightly. "I guess it won't get cleared up for awhile..."

He agreed. The silver lining in that? He could stay with Marlene longer. He may not remember everything about their past- but he felt the safest here. Felt like he was less of a threat here. Taking another bite of his plum, careful not to dribble the juice down his stubble covered chin, his eyes followed her about as she finished putting away the last of the food. Before Marlene he never really felt like he had a place in this world. Now? It felt like he kind of had a home. And not a crappy apartment that asked no questions about his identity, an actual home. And he was under no illusions it was Marlene that made it feel that way. with the things she did for him, picking up foods he specifically liked, working to help him recover his memories, all of that was noticed by Bucky. She was just as invested in him, as Bucky was quietly invested in her. And he wanted to get closer to her, didn't really ever want to leave her again; something about that thought just felt wrong to his core; but Bucky didn't know if that was fair of him.

Whoever he'd been to her before he left the war, he came back seventy years later a different man. A shell of a man, a broken one at that. What if someone got into his head again and he accidentally hurt her? Or if he regressed? It had happened in Europe, that man with the codes to the Winter Soldier. Maybe it could happen again; at the mere thought his heart skipped a few beats. "I can't let that happen. Not ever again. I'm going to beat out all the Hydra in my head." Bucky remained himself, his face growing stony for a moment. Carefully he inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. Everything was fine. He was okay. “You don’t have to call Steve, Bucky. I don’t mind doing it.” Marlene's voice brought him back, and Bucky exhaled with an honest smile. His inner demons temporarily forgotten. Another step closer to being Bucky again. It was something he needed to do. It was almost silly but he looked in the mirror and saw the Winter Solider staring back. Maybe if he looked a little more like himself, he'd see a little more James Barnes staring back.

"If you need something, anything, I don’t want you to hesitate to ask, alright? I’m not just here to look pretty, though I think I do a pretty good job with that regardless.” He nodded sheepishly, though a smile began to spread to his lips. "I think I'd give you a passing grade in that regard." That was a glimpse to the Bucky the war had taken from Marlene. Though he was gone just as fast as he come. Replaced with someone that wasn't quite the Winter Soldier, but someone more serious Bucky would ever care to be. "Thank you... I understand it can't be easy housing someone like... Like myself. But thank you for everything. For taking me in-" He paused. He wanted to thank her for not abandoning him when Marlene realized it wasn't her Bucky that left for the war. For not being afraid of him. Understanding his past, knowing all the truly horrible things he'd done and still wanting to be around him. For trying to help him get back to some sort of state of okay. "For everything." He was only able to say in the end.

Marlene Davis | The One Left Behind

Noticing Bucky perk up a bit when she suggested they try making chicken noodle soup brought a smile to Marlene’s face. She knew that he liked helping out in the kitchen. Sometimes, she’d come back from a morning run and find that he’d made breakfast. Other times, when she didn’t have things to do during the day, they’d bake something. Really, she tried to do anything that would help keep him busy. She knew that all of the bad memories were put at bay when she kept him occupied. The only memories she tried bringing out were the good ones from the past he shared with her and Steve. This time, her meal suggestion was entirely because she hoped that it would feel familiar. She knew that familiarity could be comforting, and it might even help a few new memories surface as well. “Alright, I’ll pick up some chicken next time I go to the store.” She said.

His later words shifted her attention away from the pantry cabinet momentarily. The expression on his face said everything that his words hadn’t. She knew that he blamed himself for everything that was going on right now with Steve and Tony and the government, and she wished that he wouldn’t do that. “You’re wrong.” She said quietly. “What Steve’s going through right now isn’t your fault, Buck. He was against the Accords before the UN bombing. Even if that hadn’t happened, even if he hadn’t found you, he never would have signed them. The moment he stepped out of line, Ross would’ve arrested him.” She’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the Secretary of State on one occasion. Saying that he wasn’t her favorite person was putting it lightly.

“It’ll all blow over eventually. Tony’ll come around.” Stark could certainly hold a grudge, but something told her that he would be helping Ross search for Steve and Bucky and the others if he was still holding one against Steve. Things were obviously still tense and strained at best, and they likely wouldn’t ever really be the same, but she believed that it would all come to pass sooner or later. They just had to sit tight in the meantime. “Unfortunately for you, you’re kind of stuck with me ‘til it does.” She teased, as a slight smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

All joking aside, she liked to think that he wanted to be there with her. She’d done everything in her power to make him feel comfortable in her apartment, and she’d done what she could to help him whenever the opportunity presented itself. He hadn’t tried running off, something that she knew that both she and Steve feared would happen at one point or another, and she hoped that meant that he wanted to be there with her. That he enjoyed staying with her enough to actually stick around. She knew that things between them would likely never be the same again. He wasn’t the same man that he’d been before the war, but she wasn’t the same woman anymore either. A lot had happened in the last seventy some-odd years. They’d both seen a great deal, and that kind of thing definitely changed a person.

It was comments like the one he’d just made that gave her hope that there was still part of the Bucky she and Steve had known somewhere in there. She wasn’t hoping that he’d become that version of himself again, but she liked to think that, at least to a certain degree, he could become a version of him. “Only a passing grade? Not exemplary?” Occasionally, when brief conversations like this one were had, she was reminded of how things used to be between them. Constant teasing. Cheeky and flirtatious remarks passed back and fourth between them. Steve used to pretend to gag and tell them to get a room. The thought brought a smile to her face briefly. Everything used to be so much simpler back then. “You don’t have to thank me, Bucky. If it’s any consolation, I’m glad that Steve asked if you could stay with me.” And she meant that. She wanted him here with her. “Come on, let’s see what I can do about that mop on your head.” The teasing had returned. Even though things were obviously very different now, they were both very different now, just having him there with her brought out a side in her that she hadn’t seen in decades.

---

Matthew Murdock | The Vigilante

Talking about everything made it all the more real. Matt knew that it all had really actually happened, but there was just something about verbally recognizing it that sort of solidified it all. He still sort of felt like he was burdening Lyra with his problems. He wasn’t one to whine and pull the woe-is-me card. He much preferred to keep everything pent up inside his mind until he needed to punch it all, literally, out of his system. He’d tried getting a few punches in on the old punching bag at the start of the week, but that hadn’t done him much good at all. It had just left him with raw, bruised knuckles. Talking to Lyra, on the other hand, changed things entirely. It made him realize that it all had actually happened. He and Foggy really weren’t talking. Nelson and Murdock really wasn’t a thing anymore. Karen really knew that he was Daredevil. And Elektra really had died that night.

“It’s funny how talking about it makes it feel so much more real.” He admitted with a bitter laugh. “I knew that it all happened. I guess it’s just really starting to sink in now.” He shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. She really was gone. Elektra Nachios may have been stubborn and difficult at times, but she’d also been strong, and the strength she possessed, both mentally and physically, was something that Matt had admired immensely. And now she was no longer around to infuriate him in ways that most anyone else couldn’t. She might have helped to further complicate and strain things between him, Foggy and Karen, but that didn’t mean he’d wish something like death on her. She might have brought out the worst in him, but that didn’t mean that she deserved to go the way that she had, and Matt couldn’t help blaming himself for what had happened.

“She shouldn’t have been the one to die on that roof.” He said, shaking his head. He knew that Lyra was right. Elektra had probably assessed the situation just as much as she had. She’d known that the future had looked rather bleak, but that didn’t mean that she should have been the one who hadn’t survived it. It should have been him. He knew that there was nothing he could do to change it. He didn’t have a time machine. He couldn’t go back and make sure that things played out differently, but that didn’t stop him from wishing that he could. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty either.

Her later words did lighten the mood, though only slightly and he allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “A garbage man? Now that would be a twist in the story, wouldn’t it?” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. The lightened atmosphere only remained for a short amount of time before he was reminded of what they’d been talking about prior to the change in subject. “It should have been me. I should have been the one to go, not her.” He wanted to think that things were going to get better; it was just hard to with all of the shit that had happened all at once. “I know that she wouldn’t want me to dwell on all of this like I am, it’s just hard, I guess.” He sighed. “I’m not one to normally push my problems on others, so I apologize for that.” He knew she’d probably tell him not to apologize, but he was going to anyway. He hated thinking that there was even a small chance that he was being some sort of a burden to anyone, especially someone who had shown him as much kindness as Lyra had.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll remember that. Thank you.” He appreciated everything that she’d done for him so far. He knew that it probably didn’t seem like much to her, but he really didn’t know very many people who would allow a masked vigilante into their apartments as frequently as she had.