notdaredevil | IC INBOX (MASKORMENACE)

Well, you and Kaine and Flash -- that's Flash Thompson -- have all dropped little hints about me acting oddly. That was worrisome enough, but--

[He swallows. This part, he does have to force out. For once, Peter's underselling it when he says what he's learned scares him. This has been keeping him up nights as he runs through all the hows-whys-maybes; it's his worst nightmare, one he can't run from while he's here and won't know to run from when he's back there.]

It was Venom, the new Venom. During the shark fight, we got into an argument-- he said I tried to kill him. Not in the heat of the moment or in self-defense, but after he surrendered. I told my minions to shoot him-- those were his exact words.

[Another pause, before more words tumble out.] I know a Venom isn't exactly a reliable witness, but it was the way he said it. I don't think he was lying-- if he was lying, wouldn't he think of something more convincing? I mean, I'm not exactly Mr. Popular. What would I be doing with minions?

[Ah. Damn. That's maybe the worst place to start.]

I don't know anything about Venom. But he's not lying about the minions. [Matt isn't even sure he can say he's surprised. But it's alarming. He knew his friend was off but he didn't think...not that off.] I don't know where they came from. You weren't exactly welcoming when Frank and I came to talk to you. But let's start at the beginning. What was the last time you and I remember meeting, before you came to the City?

Oof. That would've been more than three years ago... it was when Luke Cage got captured by Norman Osborn and his goons, and we all got together to break him out. Before that, uh... it must've been when we took down the Bar with No Name together. [Beat. A tentative smile in his voice.] And when you told me you didn't want to know my secret identity.

[God, that was awhile back, for him.]

All right. That's further back than the problem started by a fair amount. After my- [Matt winces to say this, and it's audible in his tone.] - "ninja kingpin" phase, I left New York for some time, and then came back some time later to try and start over. At that point, you were still doing fine. We ran into each other regularly- we had a team-up with Black Cat, and with the Punisher, and do not make any smart remarks about that. [He never should have told Peter about that problem.] Fought off a robotic virus, invading Nazi army. It was all fine. But then it started to get strange.

[He hesitates, wondering if he ought to say this- but they're friends. The whole reason he'd avoided Spider-Man telling Matt his name in the first place was to prevent something like this, and it happened anyway.]

You were outed, in a way. The Bugle published an article saying you were the one behind the webslinger's tech. I didn't realize it at the time, thanks to Stephen. If I'd known, I would have tracked you down sooner, as soon as I got back.

Team-ups, no accidental threesomes, robots and Nazis, got it. Yeah, that does sound about normal for us.

--Oh. Okay, that's... wow. Even if you didn't know, it's probably for the best I had the blindspot, huh. I mean, everyone at the Bugle already knew I had an inside line with Spider-Man, but still... So what, does that make me the Kato to my own Green Hornet?

I guess so? How that all played out is something I'm not entirely clear about.

[He'd had...other things to deal with at the time.]

Around that time, Foggy and I had a falling out. Again. The Spot- do you remember him?- got dragged into a plan concocted by Bullseye to get to me. They planted my dad's- [oh this is hard to say.] - his gloves, and his bones, in my desk. Of course I didn't know how they got there, and of course Foggy thought I was cracking up. So he fired me. It was after they brought...[Deep breath.] brought Milla back to my apartment from the hospital that you got involved. I asked Foggy to check on her. Of course by the time he got to her ward she was back in her room. So he chewed me out, told me I needed help. Then he went to my girlfriend, who was at that time an assistant D.A., and told her that I was Daredevil. That he thought I was a danger to myself and to everyone around me. When she couldn't get the D.A.'s office to listen, she contacted you. How, I have absolutely no idea.

[He really should have asked her about that. But he supposes now she just could have left a message for Peter Parker at Horizon.]

I come back to pick up the pieces, having conclusively proved that I was not actually crazy, and you called me out in the street. You said "Surrender, or prepare for battle!" or something equally awful and forced me to run into a nearby alley to ditch my clothes and fight you. You forced a fight. But all the signs said it was you. I know you. It was your voice, your heartbeat. Your godawful posture. I thought at the time, mind control, maybe? You were just silent the whole time we were fighting. And you called me "Hornedhead."

[Which was just fucking strange.]

We were interrupted by Stilt-Man, in what has to be the only time I have actually been happy to see that idiot. We took him down, and I tried to explain. You seemed to get it. You made at least one joke. When I asked if you needed to talk about something, you said you were fine. But I don't know, buddy. There was a moment when I needed you- I was falling out of a helicopter with two civilians- and I kept shouting for a net...and for a second or two, I seriously wasn't sure you'd do it.

Edited 2014-07-13 05:29 (UTC)

Matt, I'm -- I'm sorry you had to deal with all that. And I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, that I wasn't -- anything like a good friend.

[To say the least. Peter's taken one-two combos to the head that didn't send him reeling like this speech has. First, the knowledge that one of his best friends suffered through that kind of ordeal, that someone attacked his sick wife and desecrated his father just to play mind games -- the mere idea makes his gut churn in sympathy. He remembers when Uncle Ben's body was stolen, the plot used as a hiding place for Aunt May's imprisonment, but this makes Norman Osborn look halfway humane.

Then, to find out that he gave that same friend reason to believe that he would let him die -- a man who's stood by him since he was seventeen, who's had his back at times when it seemed the entire rest of the world was against him -- there's a moment there when Peter's not entirely sure he won't throw up. His voice is tight when he continues.]

What you said, and what Venom said -- you have to know that I'd never --

[He swallows.]

I never thought I'd actually want to be mind controlled. Or swapped with my evil alternate universe twin, or a clone, or anything that person you spoke to who seemed like me... wasn't me. But I don't know that I can just hide away from that responsibility and hope for the best.

[Matt thinks now they should have had this conversation in person. They're not the touchiest of people, at least not with each other. But they've known each other since they were just starting out. Peter's friendship has meant the world to him, even when he had his head jammed too far up his own ass to see it. It's not easy to tell him these things. It's not easy to admit to them.]

No, I should have been there for you. I wanted you to be all right. [Because he needed that to be true. Because he had so many things to address. ] I should have trusted my instincts better, but...between Foggy and the Sons of the Serpent, I got distracted.

[He almost hesitates to say it, because, for someone whose life has been an unstinting and unrelenting confrontation of the darkest sides of himself for the longest time, he almost wants to protect Peter from- from this thing Matt doesn't even understand. But Peter won't appreciate it any more than Matt would.]

Peter, it gets worse. You set loose these little robot spiders all over the city to watch everything for you. You turned the city on Phil Urich by exposing him as Hobgoblin, publicly- you set the citizens against a known and well-equipped supervillain. You killed Massacre. You hired a bunch of former muscle as your sort of personal Spider-Army or whatever you were calling it. Frank and I had to try and stage an intervention.

[Peter's grateful that they're having this conversation over the phone. His spider powers have never had much influence on his personality, other than giving him the confidence he'd sorely lacked as a child, but right now he wants nothing more than to find a dark corner and not come out. It's bad enough knowing that Matt can hear the hitch of his breath, can guess from the rustle and thud that he's slid down the wall to sit curled on the floor. His control's fraying, and a simple kind touch might undo him.]

And here I've been ragging on you for your ninja kingpin phase.

[He puts down the phone and covers his face, the base of each palm pressed against his eyes as he tries to process everything he's hearing. Phil Urich of all people, someone named Massacre -- who, ironically, is his own victim. Matt needing to rope in the Punisher to help stop him.]

You have to take me down. Whether it's really me or not, you can't hesitate.

[Well now he's just lucky that this isn't in person, because if it were, Matt might punch him in the goddamn face.]

I have to take you down? How dare you, Peter. How dare you of all people demand that I put you down like a rabid dog, when I know for a fact when our positions were reversed you wouldn't do the same to me. Ever.

[Of course, in Matt's position, he had fought free long enough to kill himself, which seems perfectly valid and at the same time renders this argument somewhat hypocritical. And of course he has other friends who would have put Matt down, if they'd been able. But that's not the point here. The point here is that's not something they do, the two of them. Killing Peter would be turning his back on Peter, giving up on him, compromising everything they've both stood for, and Matt will never find it in his heart to do that.]

If I have to cut a deal with the devil himself to fix whatever's going to happen to you, I will. I will drag you to every scientist, exorcist, and telepath I can find until something works. But don't you dare beg me to kill you. The Peter Parker I know doesn't just give up and quit, and he sure as hell doesn't insult himself and me by pretending murder is a viable solution.

[Matt's almost physically palpable outrage should make him feel guilty, and it does; instead of getting him to back down, though, it only makes him furious. Peter knows exactly what his life is worth, especially if he's become a murderer. Who the hell is Matt Murdock to say otherwise?]

Matt, you have no idea what I'm capable of. How much I hold myself back every damn day, every fight I get into because I want to stop whoever I'm fighting but I'm terrified I'll break them. If I've really gone over the edge, you can't hold back -- I'm not saying I want you to kill me, but it's better than the alternative! It's better than hurting more people, or you trying to talk me down and getting yourself --

[He doesn't know whether he cut himself off because the thought is too horrible to voice or, perversely, because he doesn't want to offend Matt more than he already has. The raw power disparity between them has always been an unspoken thing -- it's never needed to be discussed when Daredevil's discipline, training and perceptive insight let him hold his own. But a Spider-Man off the leash changes the equation.]

The way you talk about me, I sound like a supervillain. One of the bad ones.

I appreciate your faith in my abilities and powers of observation.

[In contrast to his outrage, Matt's tone couldn't possibly be more icy. Derisive, intending to plant the knife and twist it. Whatever Peter thinks, Matt knows him well. He's seen Spidey snap before, and of the two of them, he's by far the better planner. And he has tricks he's never used before around his friend, and certainly never contemplating using on his friend.

Besides, if he thinks Matt isn't canny enough to bring back-up, if necessary, he's definitely not thinking carefully.]

And I'll commend you on a frankly impressive attempt at blending self-loathing with a massive ego trip, but I won't be responsible for having to go to your Aunt May, or Mary Jane, to explain you thought your life wasn't worth saving. That I or anyone else agreed to throw it away. It's not happening.

[ However a true, no-holds-barred battle between them would turn out, in this fight Matt's struck a hard blow. Peter's flinch is almost audible.]

Don't. Don't use them like that, don't you dare --

[ Because they're at the center of all this, aren't they. The two people he loves most are far beyond his reach, and for three years he consoled himself that as far as they're concerned he's never left; however much he misses them, they're safe, protected.

Then a universe died, and all it did was reset the clock. He's gotten used to being an explainer, to identifying as an imPort the same way he does being a New Yorker or a man or a superhero. To looking after kids when he'd felt barely more than a child himself. How much longer can he stay here, and how much more can he change before going home and resetting isn't a return to normal, but a kind of death?

With all that percolating in the back of his mind, Matt's news was the last bit of comfort stripped away. A complete betrayal, not by his friend but apparently by himself. He's completely unmoored; he can't trust in anything, any more.]

Then think about what the hell you're saying. Think about the consequences of what you're trying to ask me, and pull yourself together, Peter.

[Matt doesn't understand, because Matt doesn't remember. But if anybody's an expert in the sort of rampant self-destruction and ruin that inflicts untold casualties, it's Matt Murdock. And at his most self-pitying, at his lowest point...maybe he would have wanted that, too. Maybe it's the understanding that makes him so vehemently opposed now, when it's somebody else's life on the line. He wouldn't wish that feeling on anybody. And he refuses to allow Peter to go through it, if he can help it.]

[ His response is immediate, sharp and biting. ]

Which self am I supposed to pull together? The one here that's going to cease to exist when I go home, whenever that is, or the one that apparently just killed someone?

Both. Either. As long as the one I'm talking to can hold it together long enough to think things through.

IC INBOX (MASKORMENACE)

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