Daredevil: Blind Justice (DC Comics)

Monday, June 1st, 2009, 6:45 AM

James's Apartment

1247 Riverside Drive, Apt 4B

James finished his third set of push-ups and rolled onto his back, sweat pooling on the hardwood floor beneath him. Six hundred this morning. Yesterday it had been five-fifty. The day before, five hundred even.

His body was changing. Getting stronger, more defined. Muscle memory that wasn't his own guided every movement, every stretch, every exercise routine that would have killed the old James Olsen but felt natural now.

He stood up and walked to the bathroom, navigating his apartment with the kind of ease that would have taken months to develop. The red-tinted glasses sat on his nightstand next to the white walking stick he'd picked up from the National Federation for the Blind. Props, really. Theater for a world that needed to see disability in familiar packages.

The shower water was exactly the right temperature, he could sense the heat radiating from the pipes before he turned the handle. Another little gift from Matt Murdock's memories, another skill that separated him from the person he used to be.

Twenty minutes later, James stood in front of his closet, running his fingers over clothes that felt foreign. Business casual shirts and khakis, the uniform of a photographer who spent his days chasing stories in comfortable newsrooms. He grabbed a black sweater instead, dark jeans, clothes that wouldn't stand out in a crowd.

The Daily Planet building looked different from street level. James had always seen it from the inside, from the perspective of someone who belonged there. Now it felt like visiting a museum dedicated to someone else's life.

The lobby smelled like coffee and ambition, filled with the morning rush of reporters and editors and administrative staff. James tapped his walking stick against the marble floor...tap, tap, tap...and made his way to the elevators.

"Jimmy!"

Perry's voice boomed across the newsroom the moment the elevator doors opened. James turned toward the sound, letting his face show just enough confusion to sell the blindness.

"Morning, Chief."

"Good to have you back, son. Real good." Perry's aftershave was too strong, and underneath it James could smell genuine emotion. Relief, maybe, or guilt. "We've got your desk all set up with that adaptive equipment STAR Labs recommended."

James followed Perry through the newsroom, past the familiar sounds of ringing phones and clacking keyboards. People were staring, he could feel their attention like heat on his skin, but trying to be subtle about it. Whispered conversations about how well he looked, how brave he was for coming back so soon.

His desk had been transformed. A computer with voice recognition software, a special scanner for reading printed documents, tactile markers on all the equipment. Someone had even labeled his supplies in Braille.

"Lois set most of this up," Perry said. "Figured you'd want to jump right back into things."

"That's... that's really thoughtful." James sat down in his chair and ran his hands over the keyboard. It felt like sitting in someone else's life. "What have you got for me?"

Perry handed him a folder. "City council meeting this afternoon. Budget hearings. Not the most exciting stuff, but we figured you'd want to start with something familiar."

Budget hearings. James opened the folder and pretended to read the Braille summary someone had prepared. Six months ago, this would have been exactly the kind of assignment he'd have loved, local politics, follow the money, find the corruption hiding in plain sight.

Now it felt like playing dress-up.

"Chief," Lois's voice cut through the newsroom noise. She approached his desk with careful steps, like she was afraid of spooking him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," James said, going for humor. "But the truck was nine feet tall and from space, so that's something."

Lois laughed, but it sounded forced. "I wanted to run something by you. I've been working on a piece about the attack, about what happened. I was hoping you might be willing to share your perspective."

James felt something cold settle in his stomach. His perspective. Right. The story of how James Olsen, photographer, got his eyes clawed out by an alien bounty hunter and became a cautionary tale about the dangers of playing hero.

"Maybe later," he said. "Still processing everything, you know?"

"Of course. No pressure." Lois hesitated. "James, I also wanted to talk to you about... options. The Planet has resources, programs for employees with disabilities. Different career paths that might—"

"That might work better for a blind guy?"

"That's not what I meant."

But it was exactly what she meant, and they both knew it. James could hear it in her heartbeat, smell the uncomfortable truth in her nervous sweat. Lois Lane, the woman who could stare down corrupt politicians and alien invaders, was afraid of him. Afraid of his disability, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of acknowledging that the old James Olsen was gone.

"You know what...you're probably right," James said quietly.

Lois blinked. Perry stopped shuffling papers. Around them, the newsroom seemed to pause.

"I'm sorry?" Lois said.

"You're right. This doesn't work anymore." James gestured at his desk, at the adaptive equipment, at the careful accommodations everyone had made. "I can't be a photographer if I can't see. And I'm not interested in being the inspiring disabled guy who writes feel-good pieces about overcoming adversity."

"Jimmy," Perry said carefully, "you don't have to make any big decisions right now. Take time to think about it."

"I have been thinking about it. For two weeks, lying in that hospital bed, I've been thinking about what comes next." James stood up and pulled his walking stick from where it leaned against his desk. "And this isn't it."

"What are you saying?" Lois's voice was small.

"I'm saying I quit."

The words hung in the air like smoke. James could hear conversations stopping, could feel the weight of attention from across the newsroom. Everyone was staring now, not even trying to be subtle.

"Son," Perry said, "you're making a mistake. This is just shock talking. Post-traumatic stress. You belong here."

"No," James said, and his voice was steady. "The old James belonged here. That guy loved this job, loved chasing stories, loved the idea that journalism could change the world. But that guy's gone, Chief. What's left... this isn't home anymore."

He turned and started walking toward the elevators, tapping his stick against the floor. Behind him, he could hear Perry calling his name, could smell the confusion and hurt radiating from his former colleagues.

The elevator doors were closing when he heard running footsteps.

"James, wait!"

Kara's voice made him reach out and stop the doors. She slipped inside, slightly out of breath, carrying a small box that smelled like vanilla and sugar.

"I brought cupcakes," she said, like that explained everything. "I thought we could... I thought you might want something sweet for your first day back."

James looked at her, really looked, using every enhanced sense he possessed. Her heartbeat was quick with anxiety. She was wearing the perfume he liked, had probably chosen her outfit carefully. She'd been planning this moment, building up to it, hoping to make his return special.

And he was walking away from all of it.

Fuck.

"Kara—"

"Don't," she said quickly. "Don't say whatever you're about to say. Not yet."

The elevator reached the ground floor, and they walked out together into the lobby. Kara guided him to a quiet corner near the windows, away from the morning rush of people heading to work.

"You quit," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

James set down his walking stick and leaned against the window. Outside, Metropolis hummed with its usual energy. Cars and pedestrians and the distant sound of construction. A city full of people going about their lives, most of them decent, some of them not.

"Because I don't want to write about problems anymore," he said. "It's not enough."

"That's what journalism does. We expose corruption, we hold people accountable—"

"We write stories and hope people are smart enough to even understand, or that someone else fixes things." James turned toward her voice. "When's the last time one of your articles actually changed anything? Really changed it, not just made people feel informed?"

Kara was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight with hurt and confusion.

"So what, you're just going to give up? Walk away from everything we've built here?"

"What have we built, Kara? A few almost-kisses and a lot of missed opportunities?"

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Kara's sharp intake of breath hit him like a physical blow, and he could smell the salt of tears she was trying not to shed.

"That's not fair," she whispered.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry." James reached out and found her hand. "You deserve better than this. Better than me figuring out who I am now."

"What if I don't want better? What if I want to help you figure it out?"

James squeezed her hand gently, then let go. "Then you're going to get hurt. Because the person I'm becoming... he's not someone you want to be around."

"How do you know? How can you possibly know that?"

Because Matt Murdock had loved Elektra Natchios, and it had destroyed them both. Because everyone who got close to Daredevil ended up dead or damaged or driven away. Because James could already feel himself changing, becoming someone harder and colder and more willing to cross lines that the old James would never have considered.

But he couldn't say any of that.

"I just know," he said instead.

Kara was crying now, quiet tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand. "T-This isn't you, James. This isn't who you are."

"Maybe it is now."

"Stop!." Her voice was fierce, angry. "The James I know doesn't run away from things. He doesn't hurt people who care about him. He fights for what matters."

Yes, but maybe it's time to actually fight for what matters.

"You're right, Kara." James said softly, before wiping away the tears on her face with his thumb and kissing Kara on the cheek one last time. "He does fight for what matters. That's exactly what he does. Which is why I have to go now..."

He picked up his walking stick and headed for the street, leaving Kara standing in the lobby with a box of cupcakes and tears running down her cheeks.

Kara watched him, the man she loved, disappear into the crowd, her hands shaking as she clutched the cupcake box. Something hot and furious was building in her chest, something that had nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with rage.

She turned, leaving slight spider-web cracks in the ground, and marched back toward the elevators, her heels clicking against the marble like gunshots. The elevator ride to the newsroom felt endless. Seeing herself in the reflection of the elevator door, her eyes had glown red for a brief moment. And by the time the doors opened, Kara was practically vibrating with anger.

The newsroom was buzzing with whispered conversations about James's dramatic exit. Kara ignored the stares, ignored Ron Troupe's concerned "Kara, you okay?" and Cat Grant's predatory interest in whatever drama was unfolding. She yanked the elastic from her ponytail, letting her blonde hair fall around her shoulders in angry waves as she stalked across the floor.

Lois was at her desk, typing with the focused intensity she used when she was upset. Perfect.

"What did you say to him?" Kara's voice cut through the newsroom chatter like a blade.

Lois looked up, startled. "Kara? What—"

"What did you say to James? What did you tell him that made him quit?"

"I didn't make him do anything." Lois stood up, her own defenses rising. "I was trying to help."

"Help?" Kara laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You told him he couldn't do his job anymore. You basically fired him before he had a chance to try."

"What?! That's not what happened." Lois's voice was getting sharper. "I suggested alternatives. Options for someone in his situation."

"His situation?" Kara stepped closer, and something in her posture made Steve Lombard stop throwing his stress ball. "You mean being blind? Because that's all you see when you look at him now, isn't it? Not James, not the best photographer this place has ever had, just a disability."

"You think I wanted this? You think I enjoyed telling him his career might be over?" Lois's professional composure was cracking. "I was being realistic with him, friends don't walk on eggshells around eachother.."

"Realistic. Right." Kara's eyes flashed with something dangerous, doing everything in her power not to break something. "And it had nothing to do with the fact that James and I have been... that we've been getting closer?"

Lois blinked. "....What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything!" The word came out louder than Kara intended, loud enough that Perry stuck his head out of his office. "You couldn't stand that he was paying attention to someone else. You've always had this thing about being the most important woman in every man's life."

"That's completely—"

"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you saw an opportunity to push him out before he could become a problem for your neat little world."

Lois's face flushed red. "H-How fucking dare you. James is my friend, and one of the nicest people to ever enter my life. I've been covering for his absences, making excuses when he disappears without explanation, trying to protect him from office gossip about his relationship with Clark—"

"What relationship with Clark?" Kara's voice had gone dangerously quiet.

"They're best friends, Kara. They have been for years. Or did you think all those mysterious disappearances were just coincidence?"

The accusation hung in the air like smoke. Around them, the newsroom had gone completely silent, everyone pretending to work while obviously listening to every word.

"You're jealous," Kara said finally. "You're jealous that James figured out what you've been trying to figure out for years."

"You're insane..."

"Say that again bitch...", as she stepped closer, her eyes flashing red.

Before Lois could respond, the elevator dinged and Clark stepped out, looking confused and slightly concerned. He took one look at the two women facing off in the middle of the newsroom and his expression shifted to alarm.

"What's going on?" he asked, approaching carefully like he was trying not to spook wild animals.

Kara turned on him, all her anger and frustration finding a new target. "Ask your girlfriend. She just cost James his fucking job."

"I did not—" Lois started.

"He quit, Clark." Kara's voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "James quit because someone made him feel like he didn't belong here anymore. Made him feel like being blind made him useless."

"That's not true!" Lois shouted, now lots of heads in office turned towards them.

Clark looked between them, clearly trying to piece together what he'd walked into. "Where is he now?"

"Gone. Walking around the city with a stick he probably doesn't need, pretending to be helpless while everyone treats him like damaged goods." Kara grabbed her purse from her desk, shoving things into it with more force than necessary. "Maybe you should ask Lois what she said to him. Since she seems to know what's best for everyone."

She headed for the elevator, leaving Clark standing there looking like he'd been hit by a truck. At the elevator doors, she turned back one last time.

"For what it's worth, Clark, I...I-I love him. I had just mustered up the courage to tell him, and then this..." Her eyes flicked to Lois, cold and unforgiving. "Some people just wouldn't understand...."

The elevator doors closed, leaving Clark and Lois alone in a newsroom full of people pretending they hadn't just witnessed the most dramatic confrontation in Daily Planet history.