Daredevil: Blind Justice (DC Comics)

Friday, May 22nd, 2009, 10:15 AM

STAR Labs Medical Wing

Physical Therapy Room B

"Let's try walking to the door and back," Dr. Martinez said, her voice carrying that forced cheerfulness that medical professionals used when they thought you were fragile. "Just take your time."

James nodded and stood up from the chair, letting his hand trail along the wall like he needed the guidance. In reality, he could map every corner of the room, every piece of equipment, every dust mote floating in the air currents. But Dr. Martinez didn't need to know that.

Three rooms away, Dr. Charles was reviewing his latest brain scans with someone whose cologne was expensive enough to choke a horse. Probably a specialist brought in to figure out why James was adapting faster than any patient in their records.

"That's excellent," Dr. Martinez said as James reached the door. "Your spatial orientation is remarkable for someone who's been blind for only three days."

Remarkable. That seemed to be everyone's favorite word for what he was doing. James turned around and walked back to his chair, deliberately bumping into the corner of a table to sell the illusion that he was still figuring things out.

"Sorry," he muttered, rubbing his hip like it hurt.

"No need to apologize. You're doing better than most patients do after weeks of training."

The door opened and Clark walked in, carrying the smell of coffee and something that might have been donuts. His heartbeat was steadier today, less of the crushing guilt that had been radiating off him since the attack.

"Morning, Jimmy. How's the torture session going?"

"Physical therapy," Dr. Martinez corrected with professional humor. "And he's making excellent progress."

Clark's pulse spiked slightly at the word 'excellent,' and James caught the subtle shift in his breathing that meant his friend was putting pieces together. Clark was smart—too smart for James's own good sometimes.

"Mind if I steal him for lunch?" Clark asked. "I brought food that doesn't come from a hospital cafeteria."

Dr. Martinez checked her watch. "We were just finishing up anyway. James, we'll continue this afternoon with some balance exercises."

After she left, Clark settled into the chair beside James's bed. "Donuts from Morrison's and coffee that doesn't taste like it was filtered through a gym sock."

"You're a saint." James reached for the coffee cup, letting his fingers search for it slightly longer than necessary. The cup was exactly where he'd known it would be, twelve inches to his left, still warm, with Clark's fingerprints on the handle. "How are things at the Planet?"

"Perry's driving everyone crazy asking about you. Lois wants to write a piece about the attack, but she's waiting for you to be ready for interviews." Clark paused. "Kara's been asking about visiting hours."

Something in James's chest did a weird flutter at Kara's name. The kiss they'd almost shared felt like it had happened in another lifetime, but the memory still made his enhanced senses go a little haywire.

"She can visit whenever she wants. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

"Jimmy..." Clark's voice got that careful tone he used when he was working up to something important. "The doctors are saying you're adapting unusually well. Faster than they expected."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it's just..." Clark shifted in his chair, and James could smell the nervous sweat starting to break out under his deodorant. "How are you doing it?"

James took a sip of coffee, buying time. This was delicate territory. Clark wasn't just asking as a concerned friend, he was asking as someone who understood what it meant to be different, to have abilities that normal people couldn't explain.

"I don't know," James said, which was partly true. He knew how Matt Murdock had learned to do these things, but explaining that would require admitting to memories that weren't his. "I guess when you can't see, your brain figures out other ways to get information."

"Other ways like what?"

James set down his coffee cup and really listened to Clark, not just his words, but everything else. His friend's heartbeat was doing that thing it did when he was wrestling with something important. The same rhythm James had heard a hundred times before but never really understood.

Now he knew what it meant. Clark was deciding how much to reveal, how much to trust.

"Clark," James said carefully, "you know you can ask me anything, right? We've been friends for years. That doesn't change just because I can't see anymore."

Silence stretched out between them. Clark's breathing changed, getting deeper, more controlled. The kind of breathing someone did when they were preparing for a difficult conversation.

"The thing is, Jimmy," Clark said slowly, "I've been watching you these past few days, and some of the stuff you're doing... it's not just enhanced hearing or better spatial awareness."

James felt his stomach tighten. "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday, when Dr. Martinez was working with you on walking exercises, you knew she was going to trip before she did. You caught her before she even started to fall."

Shit. James remembered that. Dr. Martinez had been walking backward, demonstrating proper technique, and he'd heard the subtle change in her balance, the tiny shift in weight distribution that meant she was about to go down. Catching her had been pure instinct.

"Good reflexes," he said.

"Your reflexes were never that good before. And that's not all." Clark leaned forward in his chair. "You track people's movements when they're not making any sound. You know where things are without touching them. Yesterday I watched you navigate the hallway like you'd been walking it for years."

James could feel the conversation sliding into dangerous territory. Matt Murdock's memories were screaming warnings about revealing too much too soon. People who were different got studied. Dissected. Used.

"Maybe I'm just a quick learner," he said.

"Maybe. Or maybe something else happened to you during that attack. Something the doctors don't understand."

Before James could respond, there was a soft knock on the door. The scent hit him first—that same light perfume Kara wore, mixed with the smell of flowers and something that might have been chocolate.

"Hey," Kara's voice was soft, uncertain. "Is this a bad time?"

"Never," James said, maybe a little too quickly. "Clark was just leaving."

Clark stood up, and James caught the amused undertone in his friend's heartbeat. "We'll finish this conversation later, Jimmy. Kara."

After Clark left, Kara moved closer to the bed. James could track her movement by the soft rustle of her clothes, the subtle displacement of air, the way her presence seemed to change the entire feeling of the room.

"I brought you something," she said, and he heard the crinkle of cellophane. "Chocolate. The good stuff from that place on Fifth Street."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to." She sat down in the chair Clark had vacated, and James caught the faint scent of nervous sweat mixed with her perfume. "How are you feeling? Really feeling, not the polite answer you give the doctors."

James considered lying, giving her the same careful responses he'd been feeding everyone else. But something about Kara made him want to be honest.

"Different," he said. "Like I'm still me, but... more. Does that make sense?"

"More how?"

"I hear things I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things that are too far away. It's like someone turned up all the settings on my senses and forgot to give me the damn instruction manual."

Kara was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer. "Are you scared?"

"Sometimes. Mostly I'm just trying to figure out what this means. What I'm supposed to do with all this."

"You don't have to do anything with it. You can just... be James. Get better, go back to the Planet, keep taking pictures."

"Really, Kara? Can I? Take pictures?" The question came out more bitter than he'd intended. "Kind of hard to frame a shot when you can't see the viewfinder."

"James..."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. "It's just... everything I was good at, everything I cared about, it all required being able to see."

"That's not true."

"No? What am I supposed to do, become a motivational speaker? Write a book about overcoming adversity? 'I'm blind and here's why you should buy my book!'"

Kara stood up, and James heard her move closer to the bed. "You're supposed to figure out what James Olsen wants to do next. Not what the old James would have done, but what this James wants."

Her hand found his, warm and soft and steady. "You're still you. Still brilliant and brave and stubborn as hell. Still the guy who threw his camera at an alien to save Superman."

"Still the guy who got his eyes clawed out for his trouble."

"Still the guy who saved everyone else."

James looked up toward where he thought her face might be. "Kara..."

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean us. This." He gestured vaguely between them. "Are we friends who almost kissed once, or are we something else?"

Kara's heartbeat picked up, quick and fluttery. "I-I don't know. What do you want us to be?"

James didn't answer with words. Instead, he reached up and found her face with his fingers, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and he could smell the change in her scent, desire mixing with nervousness and something deeper.

"James," she whispered.

He pulled her down toward him, and their lips met in the middle. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like they were both afraid of breaking something. Then Kara made a small sound in the back of her throat, and James forgot about being careful.

She tasted like chocolate and possibility. Her hand found the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and James pulled her closer until she was practically lying on top of him in the narrow hospital bed.

"We shouldn't," Kara breathed against his lips, but she didn't pull away.

"Probably not," James agreed, trailing kisses along her jaw. She smelled incredible, like summer and sunshine and things he'd forgotten existed.

Kara's hands were under his hospital gown now, warm against his thigh, slowly moving upward, and James was pretty sure his brain was going to short-circuit. This was crazy. They were in a hospital, for Christ's sake. Anyone could walk in.

He didn't care.

"James," Kara's voice was breathless, urgent. "James, we need to..."

"To what?" He found her lips again, and the kiss was deeper this time, more desperate.

"To stop," she finished, but her hands were saying something completely different.

A knock on the door broke them apart like a bucket of cold water. Kara scrambled off the bed, smoothing down her hair and trying to look innocent. James lay back against the pillows, breathing hard and wondering if it was possible to die from sexual frustration.

"Come in," he called, his voice rougher than he'd intended.

Dr. Charles stuck her head in the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are ending soon. James, you need your rest."

"Of course," Kara said, her voice only slightly shaky. "I was just leaving."

She gathered up her purse and coat, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to James's forehead. "Get some sleep," she whispered. "We'll figure this out."

After she left, James lay in the dark listening to his own heartbeat slowly return to normal. His enhanced senses were still full of her, the scent of her perfume on his clothes, the taste of her kiss still on his lips.

Figure this out. Right. Like any of this made sense anymore.

James closed his eyes and tried to sort through the chaos in his head. James Olsen was falling in love with Kara Danvers. But something else, something that remembered being Matt Murdock, was already thinking about darker things.

About justice and punishment and all the ways the world could be improved by someone willing to get their hands dirty.

Two different men with two different ideas about what his future should look like, becoming one.....

This was going to be a problem.