Chapter Text
Matty Murdock wasn’t waking up.
The doctors didn’t think he ever would.
Between the trauma of the damage from the impact itself, the chemical burns to his eyes, and who knew what else that shit was doing to him, the boy wasn’t in good shape and he wasn’t getting better. When they tried to tell that to his father, of course, the poor man refused to believe them.
“Matty is a fighter,” he snapped back, voice full of desperation, “He’s going to wake up.”
“Sir you need to consider the possibility that he… won’t,” the doctor said gently, holding her clipboard to her chest. “The damage is extensive and… keeping him on life support is…”
“Don’t say it, don’t you fucking say it, I’m not about to leave my son for dead!” Jack Murdock turned away from her and stormed back to his son’s bedside, arms folded tight and shoulders tense. “We’re alright doctor. Go.”
The doctor could only sigh, turning to leave the man with his son, the door easing shut with a creak. Alone, Jack sank into the chair beside the bed, taking Matty's hand into his own, hating so much how cold it felt. If only he’d been there, if only he’d walked with Matty, maybe he’d… he’d…
Jack hung his head, gritting his teeth and fighting tears. He couldn’t say goodbye, he couldn’t give up, not yet. They were Murdocks! They always got back up!
They always…
“Always a shame when they’re this young.”
Though he wouldn’t be able to tell you what the voice sounded like later, nor who it belonged to, Jack would always say it chilled him to the very core of his being. It could only belong to one person, and he sure as hell didn’t work in the hospital.
Slowly, trying to bite down on his fear, Jack raised his head to meet the eye of the stranger now standing on the other side of his son’s bed, wearing the kind and smooth smile of a conman with plenty of experience. Fire flickered behind the man’s eyes, though his face… it looked like no one and like everyone.
“I don’t need to tell you what I can offer you,” he said to Jack, hands in his suit pockets. “You know what you want, I simply need to know what you’re willing to give up. As I’m sure you can guess, prices for this kind of thing aren’t exactly… cheap.”
Jack’s grandfather had told him stories about the Fae back in Ireland, stories about clever heroes who knew the importance of the spoken word. Back then that’s all they had been, stories, and a lesson to speak clearly, to never make deals that could be used against you. Right now though, Grandpa would have to roll in his grave a little longer, Jack couldn’t let this slip away.
“I’d do anything for my son to wake up,” he answered slowly. “But I’d need time with him.”
“I can give you a few years, I’m not that cruel,” the man purred, looking over at Matty. Poor kid looked half dead, with all the tubes and the bandages over his eyes. “After all, someone has to make sure he’ll be able to survive when you’re gone.”
“This ain’t living, this ain’t how a kid should live,” Jack continued, wilting and hanging his head again. “As long as he lives, as long as he can keep fighting, I… I’m all yours.”
He heard the slow footsteps move around the bed, felt the ice cold hand settle on his shoulder. “And you’re… certain about this? This is what you want?”
Though everything felt like lead and his voice almost failed him, Jack managed to nod. “Yeah, yeah it is.”
The man grinned, and his canines seemed just slightly too sharp. From his perfect suit, he drew out a folded piece of paper and a pen tipped in gold, offering them both to Jack, whose hands shook slightly as he took both, laying the contract out on the bed to sign. He couldn’t help noticing the stranger growing impatient as he carefully read over the fine print, it wasn’t the first sketchy contract he’d had to sign with his life on the line, the details would have to be perfect.
And… well… everything seemed in order.
His conditions were written down exactly like he’d said, perfect.
Jack actually had to fight a smile as he signed, feeling a sharp pain in his opposite palm as red ink scratched onto the contract page. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the stranger’s smile grow near manic, especially as he passed the paper back. “It’s been a pleasure, Mister Murdock.”
“Call me Jack,” he countered, handing back the pen as well, then covering the now bleeding cut on his palm.
“I look forward to our time together!” the man chirped, turning to leave, his heels clicking like hooves on the tile.
Only then did Jack allow himself a smile. “And I look forward to when it ends.”
The footsteps stopped, he could practically hear the devil’s teeth start to grind, his voice slipping from that perfect veneer into an angry growl. “I’m… sorry?’
Jack leaned back in his chair, and repeated what he’d said. “As long as my son is alive, I’m yours. You wrote it yourself. Once he’s dead, I’m out. Seems fair, I think.”
Without warning, the chair he sat in spun around violently on its own accord, leaving streaks in the tile as the devil stalked over. His human features began to slip, eyes and scales of a serpent, claws and teeth of a dog- “You dare to try and cheat me Jack?”
“Hey, you’re the one they call a fucking prince of lies,” Jack snapped back, gripping the arms of his chair. “Besides, you still get me for almost sixty years. Surely you can fit an eternity of torture into that right?”
The devil’s forked tongue flickered as he glared, eyes burning with hellfire.
And then he grinned. “Your son will live, Jack. I’ll make sure he doesn’t die a minute before he’s fated to. And until then-” the adversary leaned in closer, his sulfurous breath almost making Jack gag, “-you and I are going to have a lot of fun. You’re going to watch him fall until he ends up in hell right there beside you. And then you’re going to have to leave him with me. ”
“We’ll see about that you son of a bitch,” Jack hissed, lip twisting into a snarl. “Now get out of my son’s room.”
The devil hissed, but in a whoosh of smoke, he vanished into thin air.
Behind him, Matty woke up, and began to panic.