Chapter Text
Matt just stood there for a while, in the middle of the room. Not moving, just waiting.
He closed his eyes and tried to take in the things around him. Tried to concentrate on a sound or a smell or a taste, anything at all really, that would give him some normalcy and reassurance that he was not entirely screwed up. But again, there was nothing.
He balled his hands into fists, his knuckles turning white, his nails digging into the palm of his hands and he could feel the anger boil up inside of him.
And when he couldn't keep it inside any longer, he grabbed the edge of the table next to him and just pushed it over and it landed a few feet away with a loud crash and even with his impaired hearing, Matt could tell that something broke apart.
Matt bit his teeth together because of the sudden stabbing pain in his side. Even though he was hurt and it definitely didn't feel pleasant, he was kind of glad. It made him feel somewhat normal again, because pain is something he knew all too well.
He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down again. In this condition he couldn't do anything, anyway.
Matt sat down on his couch, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He fumbled with the seam of his shirt, just so he had something between his fingers and wouldn't have to completely sit still.
He tried to remember what Claire told him, that there is a good chance that this situation he's in right now, is not permanent.
But no matter how hard he tried, there was this little voice in the back of his head, this little nagging sensation, that kept whispering that it's not going to get better.
He tried not to listen, but he couldn't shake that feeling.
He needed and wanted his senses back for all the selfish reasons, but more important yet, because the city needed him to have his senses. To let him keep on fighting. To be the “Devil of Hell's Kitchen”. To be “Daredevil”. The man the city created and the man the city needed.
Now, though, he could only sit in his apartment and do nothing. Just the thought of it made him sick. He knew what was out there, that he could stop it or at least try to, that he could save people.
Matt must have fallen asleep from exhaustion, because the next morning he woke up on his couch, not remembering ever having fallen asleep.
However, for some reason, he felt rested. Like it was the first time he had a few hours of proper sleep in years and that was probably true.
Last night he was not disturbed by police sirens, by people screaming and yelling for help.
Before he could spin that thought any further, he felt his cell phone vibrate.
He was glad that at least that sense of feeling still worked and so he picked it up and answered it, putting it on speaker and holding it close to his ear so he could hear something.
“It's Claire. I'm outside your door.”, Claire said on the other end.
“Give me a second.”, he answered, before hanging up and heaving himself off the couch with a groan.
He walked over to the door and let his friend in. He knew that she was going to check up on him, so it was no surprise that she now stood in front of his front door.
“How are you feeling?”, she asked him as she came inside.
Matt was happy to hear her voice, because that meant actually hearing anything at all. And he liked her voice. Even if it currently sounded as if she was kilometers away.
“How am I supposed to feel?”, he answered with a weak, sarcastic smile.
“I don't know, because you refused to stay at the hospital, again.”, she only stated.
She worried about Matt, she worries about him all the time and this time he seemed to be worse than ever. Even though his physical wounds aren't even that bad.
“There is something wrong, though.”, Matt started telling Claire, he needed to be honest with her, “It's not just my hearing, that's not working. I can't smell or taste anything either.”, he explained and his voice started shaking a bit.
Claire knew that this was not supposed to be, her heart started beating a little faster. She didn't know exactly what was wrong with him, she could only speculate. After all, she still only was a nurse and not a real doctor.
“Maybe you got a hit to the head, that sometimes causes loss of smell and taste. Its called anosmia. I mean I did find you unconscious, who knows exactly what happened. It could also be because of the emotional stress you're undergoing right now... You know, like a kid that stops speaking for days, weeks or even years, because something traumatic happened to them... But I can't know for sure. You really should see a doctor, please.”, Claire pleaded, taking his hand into hers and tracing her finger tips over his rough and bruised knuckles.
Matt swallowed hard before answering her: “And tell him what? I was running around as a masked vigilante when a bomb went of, leaving me deaf and without my other senses, please help.”
He let out a desperate laugh, that made him feel that pain in his side again.
“You are too damn stubborn for you own good!”, Claire snapped at him involuntarily. She understood what he meant, but he could just make something up and not be so reckless and irresponsible.
“Believe it or not, but you are not the first one to ever tell me that.”
He wasn't angry or anything like that at Claire, because he understood that she only wants to help him. To get better.
To be the man she knew he was and could be again.