Daredevil (Comics)/Daredevil (Movie): The Acceptance of Love (Matt/Milla)

[coprime_writes]

Title: The Acceptance of Love
Author: coprime
Fandom: Daredevil Comics, Daredevil Movie
Relationship: Matt/Milla
Rating / Word Count: PG-13 / 2,407 words
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Daredevil belongs to Marvel Comics and Fox.
Summary: After being released from Bellevue Hospital, Milla finds comfort for what she's done in the arms of the only person who can understand her now.

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Length: 16:27

~The Acceptance of Love~

Milla stumbled as she walked, following the heavy footsteps of the police escort as best she could. She felt tired, her muscles slow to respond from the drugs the doctor had given her even as her heart tried to race. They hadn't allowed her the use of any sort of mobility aid as they led her through the hospital, and her neck prickled as she imagined everyone, patients and staff, staring at her awkward walk. But Foggy offered her his arm when he met her in the reception area, and as soon as the pair of them passed the fence surrounding the facility, he handed her cane to her.

That helped. Milla clutched her cane to her sternum, squeezing the top as she tried to use the meditation strategies Matt had taught her that night...two nights ago. Or was it three? There was nothing to be afraid of here; the only people nearby were Foggy, who was helping her, and the driver, who was paid to be discreet. But they weren't who she wanted in this moment.

"Where's Matt?" she fretted. "Why isn't he here?"

"He had to take care of some things," Foggy said in a soft, calm voice. "We should get you home, and he'll meet you there."

Milla detested that Foggy felt the need to put on his most soothing voice for her. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She was the wife of the Man Without Fear, and she wouldn't let herself succumb to it either.

"Yes," she said, "home," and walked toward the sound of the idling engine, sweeping her cane in front of her.

In the car, Foggy explained the restrictions that were being placed on her: how she wouldn't be allowed to leave her brownstone, how there would be a nurse living with her and Matt to keep an eye on her, and how that nurse would continue to administer the drugs the psychiatrists said she needed.

She spent the long drive home centering herself using Matt's instructions. She didn't want these drugs in her system. They made it hard for her to think, weighed her down so that her memory was a scattershot of disconnected sounds she couldn't string together into a coherent whole. Panic tried to flutter its way to her forethoughts as she tried to remember what she'd done. She had been so scared in that subway station, and her fear had made her angry. But she also remembered Matt's strong arms holding her at night in jail—but was she remembering that night or one of the other countless nights in their relationship—and attempted to draw up her own strength to match his.

By the time the car pulled up to the curb, she felt more herself. She'd witnessed how Matt's techniques helped him put himself back together again faster than modern medicine said should be possible. Perhaps she could beat the drugs and this suffocating fear the same way.

She exited the car.

She turned down Foggy's elbow when he offered it to her. This was her home, and she felt steadier now that jail and the hospital were behind her. She strode with a self-confidence she mostly believed up the steps of her home. When she stepped through the entrance of her and Matt's townhouse, her ears popped like she was on an airplane taking off, and her foot stomped on concrete rather than the rug-covered wooden floor she expected.

"Foggy?" she whimpered. She turned around to go back outside wherever she now was, but something solid blocked her. Her cane bounced off it, and she pressed her hands against metal, searching for information about her new location. Her breath sped up when she found a doorknob, but it was locked when she turned it. Was she trapped? All her work she'd done getting her fear under control was unraveling, and she couldn't stop it this time.

Someone grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.

"How'd you get in my apartment?" a masculine voice shouted at her.

But she recognized that voice. Somehow, someway she'd been brought to—

She cried, "Oh, Matt, thank god you're here," and threw her arms around the man she loved. She didn't need to be afraid if he were here.

Matt growled, "Who are you?" His muscles were tense where Milla clung to him and he was wearing a new-to-her Daredevil suit, thicker and more leathery than his usual bodysuit, but Milla recognized her husband. The timber of his voice, his scent when he returned to their home after a night out, the way her arms fit around him when they embraced.

This was Matt. Even as he pushed her away, Milla knew this was Matt.

Matt held her at arm's length. "How do you know Foggy? You said his name."

"Matt?" Something was wrong; her Matt wouldn't treat her like this. Why was he angry at her? She thought she remembered...shoving someone—she'd been so angry then—but Matt knew about that. Right? Even if he didn't approve of killing, he'd still held her that night. Had he changed his mind? "It's me, Milla...."

At her name, Matt gasped. His hands on her shoulders gentled, loosened their grip so that he held her softly. He said, "Milla. I remember now, Milla."

Milla buried her face in Matt's chest, and an unfamiliar zipper dug into her cheek.

"What's going on, Matt?" she asked.

"Darling Milla." Matt folded his arms around her. "When you told me your name, memories of another life awakened in me. The day we met when I saved you as Daredevil, the day you proudly strode into the offices of Nelson & Murdock so you could meet me as Matt Murdock. Even the day you served me those annulment papers. And while I am Matthew Murdock, I'm not your Matthew Murdock. I'm sorry."

With Matt's words, the truth of her situation coalesced. The unfamiliar suit, the unfamiliar apartment. Somehow when she had taken a step to enter her home with Matt, she had instead stepped into a different Matt's home in a different universe. Wrapped safe in Matt's arms for the moment, Milla thought about the future. Her life had been such a roller coaster lately, and here with this alternate version of her husband stroking her back soothingly was where she could finally catch her breath.

The last of that lingering, artificial fear left her.

Could she go back to her own universe? What would happen if she crossed that doorway again? What would happen if she couldn't go back to her universe? If she were stuck here?

And it was such a relief these thoughts didn't inspire waves of panic in her that she started sobbing into Matt's chest. Matt clutched her tighter. The rubber grip of her cane had to be digging uncomfortably into his ribs, but he held her as long as she needed.

When she was done, she lifted her face toward Matt. She said, "I need to find out whether I can return the way I came. And then if not...." Milla remembered in startling clarity now the incident at the subway station that had kicked off this last, horrible week. Matt said he could remember their time together now, but did that include all of their time. "If not, we need to talk."

"Of course," Matt agreed. "How...did you get in my apartment?"

Milla pulled away from Matt and turned toward the door she had been examining when Matt had confronted her.

"I stepped through your front door," she said.

"I nodded," Matt said. "Let me unlock it for you."

It felt like talking to her original Matt.

"Do you need to change out of your costume first? Or is there no one nearby to see you?"

"No, no one. Milla, before we test this. Before you potentially leave me." Milla's hands were wrapped around the grip of her cane, and Matt cupped his hands around hers. "You smell heavenly. May I kiss you once before you go?"

"Yes," Milla breathed out, still as drawn to Matt's passion as she had been when they'd started dating. Matt slid his hand along her arm and up her neck until he had her cheek in his palm. He kissed her with reverence, and Milla kissed him back. She loved Matt. She always had, even when they'd been apart, and that love extended to this Matt Murdock here in front of her.

They parted with a whisper. Matt took two steps to the entryway and began the involved-sounding process of opening multiple locks. Milla's face felt cold now where Matt had touched her. The heavy door swung open with a whang and Matt retreated behind Milla.

"The door's about four steps in front of you," he said.

"Thank you."

Milla took a deep breath. For the second time today, she strode forward with a self-confidence partially borrowed. As she crossed the threshold, Matt called out, "I love you."

On the other side of the doorframe, she stepped onto thin, industrial carpet and not the cement steps outside she'd expect if she had crossed back into her universe. It seemed this universe was her home now. The thought didn't scare her as much as it probably should. Maybe she was too tired to be scared anymore, or maybe it was because she still had Matt by her side, even if it wasn't exactly the same Matt. She stepped back into Matt's apartment and closed the door behind her, but left it unlocked for now.

Matt hadn't moved from his sentinel position as Milla had gone out then in again. Milla leaned her cane against the wall next to the jamb. She trusted Matt to lead her in this strange apartment she wasn't yet familiar with. She reached out to him and found his arm.

She asked, "Do you have a sofa? If I'm to stay here with you, there are things I need to make sure you know."

Matt said, "Sure," and brought her to a low, leather sofa. The cushions were plump and she sank into them as she sat, but she wondered how Matt could stand the feel of it. His leather suit squeaked against the leather upholstery as he sat beside her. Milla placed a hand on his knee. The Matt from her original universe found comfort and steadiness in her touch, and Milla suspected this Matt in her new universe was the same.

Her intuition proved correct when Matt swayed toward her, leaning against her.

Milla started, "Before I came here to you, I was in trouble. With the police, I mean. I—I killed someone. I didn't mean to kill him, but I lost control of myself. I attacked this woman, Lily, who wanted to take you from me. She wouldn't leave us alone. And I got mad; I got—unbelievably mad." Milla clawed her fingertips into Matt's knee, but Matt didn't pull away from her. "We were in a subway station, waiting for a train, and I was going to— I wanted her to die, so I pushed her, but she knocked into someone else, and that person fell onto the tracks right before the train came through.

"I'm a murderer, Matt. And I don't even know the name of the person I murdered."

"My beloved Milla," Matt murmured. He drew her closer so her face was tucked into his neck. A buckle on his collar nudged her nose, but the rasp of his stubble against her forehead calmed her. The Daredevil suit wasn't inviting to cuddle—it had been designed with his protection in mind, not her comfort—but being held by Matt while he was dressed as the hero of Hell's Kitchen assuaged her worries. "It's okay. You're not the bad guy. I understand what you're going through. I have my own confession to make, and you might think poorly of me when I'm done."

Milla kissed Matt's jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "I could never. I love you, Matthew."

Matt nosed at the crown of Milla's head, smelling her shampoo she knew. He breathed in deeply before lifting his head so he could speak without mumbling into her hair.

"I understand what you're going through because I, too, have murdered someone with a subway train. He was a criminal, and the justice system let him off scot-free. But I wouldn't let him escape my justice. When he fell on the tracks, I waited for justice to be served rather than pull him up."

The struggle of how far to go to protect the Kitchen seemed to be a commonality among Matt Murdocks. But Milla understood that was because Matt loved fiercely, with his entire being, and she couldn't fault him for that. She loved him for that. And she loved Hell's Kitchen as fiercely as he did; they only differed in the ways they fought for their home.

Milla found Matt's heart and placed her hand there. She traced the interlocking double Ds of his costume and thought how Daredevil was Matt's way of showing his heart to the world at large. She was the one who knew his heart outside of Daredevil however.

Matt blurted, "Milla, please, say something."

Milla needed the perfect words. Despite the Man Without Fear moniker, Matt had vulnerabilities like everyone else. She'd hurt him badly before when she'd rejected him by trying to end their marriage. She refused to make him feel that way a second time.

"I said I love you, and I meant it. You're not the bad guy either. Please, Matt, kiss me like I want you to kiss me."

"And how do you want me to kiss you, beautiful Milla?"

"With your heart and soul because my heart and soul belongs to you. I don't know how I came to this universe, but I believe I'm supposed to be here with you. We understand each other. So I ask you, please. Kiss me like I want you to kiss me."

Matt kissed her with all the love Milla knew he possessed, and Milla returned his fervency. As he wrapped his arms around her, all her worries fell away, leaving only the security and comfort of the man she chose to love. She knew this was where she belonged now: only this Matt Murdock could understand her after what she'd done because he had done the same.