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She'll open the door quickly when Laura knocks, setting aside the book she was reading. A glass dragon lands on Tris's shoulder and peers eagerly at the newcomer. "Hello, Laura. Come in."
Tonight was... intense. He can't pretend there hasn't been a whole lot of frustration under his skin, and maybe Laura feels the same way, because somehow, there'd been some unspoken shift, and somehow, the blows had gotten harder, faster, heavier. And now the both of them are panting at opposite ends of the sparring area, with the sharp copper tang of blood in the air, several shallow cuts stinging his skin and maybe a couple of bruised ribs twinging every time he gulps in a breath of air, lets it out in a sound that's part a laugh, part a sigh. "I think we maybe need a break," he says, rubbing at a bloody nose with the back of his wrist. "Just a minute or two."
Or maybe a few more. She sounds like she could do with the same, on the other end of the room.
It's not exclusive to Matt; if anything, she pulls far fewer punches with him than she might with most of the other barge residents, and it's less because he can take it and more because he's got a higher chance of knowing what's coming.
Tonight, though. Tonight it had been far easier to think less and just act, easier to follow her intuition instead of reason, to listen and move according to what she felt instead of what she knew. She'd followed Matt's lead, in a way, because he doesn't follow the same logic as other fighters, and it had been ... freeing. It's only when he speaks that she blinks out of her daze, panting, and sees the damage she's inflicted like she's looking at it for the very first time. Like she hadn't noticed while they were sparring.
She hadn't noticed.
Laura takes stock of herself; it's hard to determine all of the injuries she might have sustained in the fight, but she's certain that Matt actually gave as good as he got. She can feel a shoulder still working itself back into place, broken bones knitting themselves together under already-fading bruises. There's still blood on her skin, on the surface above wounds that have since healed, and sweat soaked into clothes that are worn in places where blows must have landed hard.
"We can stop," she offers. "That was ..." But she can't find the right word, and trails off into a sigh. "I'll get us some water. Don't move."
She moves slowly, not wanting to disturb the way her body's healing itself, but it's not long before she returns with two water bottles, one of which she hands to him, and the first aid kit. "Are you..." she starts. It's a dumb question. He's not alright, but he will be. "How are you?" she tries, instead, hoping for more information out of an open ended question.
And then, "Sit down, before something heals wrong." He can hear things knitting together, and it's a fascinating sound, but it's happening fast enough that he doesn't want to risk her making it worse by standing when she should be sitting.
His first answer, though, was honestly a pretty good way to put things - not complaining, at least, but that just means he's more frustrated than if he could complain, and have something come of it. He takes a swig of the water, and then a deep breath - as deep as he can, anyway, with ribs that creak in a way that he's realizing might mean they're cracked, not just bruised - and takes a moment to figure out what he wants to say next by opening the kit and pulling out some gauze, so he can clean up the cuts of his own that are still bleeding, though not before handing some over to Laura. There's still blood on her, even if everything has either closed up or is in the process of doing so.
"Honestly, that felt good," he finally says, smiling a little, mouth still a bit bloody, but it's mostly from his nose, and nothing more serious.
She accepts the offered gauze and tips the water bottle into it so she can dab at the spots on her clothing before wiping the blood off her skin.
"It did," she agrees. "It felt ... familiar." Like being back home, in a way, fighting harder and pushing back against something, anything. There's nothing to fight, here. There's nothing to rail against with anything other than words, and those were never her strong suit.
She almost wants to ask Matt if he'll be okay, still. For all that he can do, he's still human. He'll still take time to heal, and he'll still feel the pain while he does. But she also trusts him -- she knows that he knows how to take care of himself, both during and after a fight. He knows what he can handle.
"I hope it wasn't too much," she finally says, evenly.
But it was still a lot; after he's had about half the bottle of water, he does get to work actually using some of the first aid kit's supplies to start cleaning himself up. He definitely seems practiced at it.
"Fighting a real person is better than the Enclosure," he finally admits - mostly agreeing with her, especially with the 'familiar' part of it all. "And there isn't much opportunity to do that here, which I suppose I should be thankful for."
But no one to beat up means no one to take his frustrations out on. Not that what he does is solely for his own therapy. It's not. It's so much more than that, so much bigger than he is. But he also can't pretend that it's not a good outlet for when he's feeling frustrated. And he understands why that doesn't exist here - these people are already in jail, there's no need to bring them in, per se - but he'd maybe underestimated just how much that might affect him.
That, and the lack of anything real to do, other than running gym shifts, running lunch shifts, really leaves him with nowhere for his energy to go.
Obvious in most cases, anyway. Sometimes it's less clear, and it's not even always tied to a mission.
"The Enclosure smells wrong," she offers. "It's very good, but it's not real. I ... expect you have the same problems with it?"
Matt laughs, softly, though it's as much self-deprecating as anything. "It says something, I guess, when it's hard to recognize something like that." That they should be thankful nothing here generally requires violence to solve, because he's pretty sure that doesn't necessarily need to be true. But the people here are, for the most part, nonviolent; incidents seem more isolated than the alternative.
But, for someone who's used to making a difference by ending a fight... it's frustrating. He can acknowledge that. It sounds like she can - is - too.
He hums, pulling out gauze and setting to work on the worst of his cuts. "It smells wrong, it sounds wrong, it feels wrong... it's - not real. It's just a little too off. It's honestly about as cathartic as coming here and working the bags. Less so, really, because it's pretending to be something it's not." So he's here, and not in the Enclosure.
But that aside, "There's nothing to do. I mean - there are things to do. We're doing them. But - " he sighs, and focuses for a moment on a particularly deep cut, letting the pain ground him more than anything when he presses down to stop the bleeding. "Progress isn't as measurable, and I think that makes it difficult for everyone, maybe."
"I don't belong here," she admits quietly, less carefully than she ordinarily might speak.
Matt considers everything she says - lets her say it without interrupting, because he understands. He agrees.
At least, up until that last point.
"Are you sure?" he asks, and just lets that hang in the air for a moment, before pressing on. "I can't make that decision for you. Honestly, I don't even think the Admiral can. He offered you the position here, but you were the one with the power to take it or turn it down. You still are.
"But - consider this. I believe that the people who ask those kinds of questions - the people who are willing to wonder if they belong here at all - are the people that do. If you're questioning the best way to serve yourself and this place, that's a good thing. It's frustrating as hell," he laughs a little, even though it's not funny, "but I think it's better than the alternative. Knowing why you're here defeats the purpose. Doesn't it?"
She still stood by the belief that she was chosen for a reason. That the Admiral sought out her, specifically, to do a job in this place.
"Isn't the purpose to be assigned an inmate and help them graduate?"
He's... honestly not sure about that. He's been trying to figure it out for himself. Maybe this is just him thinking out loud, in this case, voicing the same concerns.
But sitting around doing nothing, when inmate after inmate doesn't seem interested, and the Admiral doesn't seem inclined to rush a pairing, says something, too. At least, he thinks it does. He hopes it does. "I don't want to think he brings us here just to put us in a holding pattern. And if he actually does... I don't want that to be all of it."
She takes a moment to just breathe, feeling air in her lungs, feeling the way that her body exists in the space it occupies. She's here. She's solid. She's herself.
She's also not certain that the job - or lack thereof - is the only thing that's frustrating her about being here.
"Do you ..." she starts, and then stops, and then realizes that no, she was on the right track the first time, but her tone is light and gently curious when she starts over. "Do you have anyone important back home?"
"Maybe it's not about changing the system, so much as finding the best ways to work within it. I mean - there's no real rulebook, is there? Not that I've been given. I think that's actually good - it gives us leave to try things, without resorting to anything too extreme." Not everything is going to work, of course. But some things might. And none of it actually requires the Admiral, which is just fine, since he doesn't really have a heavy hand in things. "We write our own rules. We decide what should be a rule, and what's working fine."
He pauses, maybe about to go on, about to divulge an idea or two, but she asks him a question, and it warrants answering. If... after another moment of silence.
"I have people that are important to me, yes," he says - maybe a little carefully, but not like he's not trying to answer her question. "Not family, really. But... people don't have to be family to be important."
Although, "I'd kind of messed things up with... most of them, before I left." But that doesn't mean they're not important.
"You?" He has a feeling this question wasn't out of the blue.
It's the same problems that Laura wrestled with when she first got out.
She feels, in many ways, like she's that scared teenager again, without a guidebook or any clue how to know what it is that she actually wants with all this freedom. And she's right here, again, with a version of the same man who argued for that freedom in the first place.
But she's older now, isn't she? She's been through more. She's learned. She should have learned.
"I have a sister," she says. "She's thirteen. I would do anything for her." A pause, as she sits up and stretches more, just making sure everything is where it should be. "I haven't even known her for a whole year. I've been away from her longer than I've even known she existed." She doesn't know if she's failing Gabby by staying, or if she's helping somehow, in some backwards, twisted way. "Before I met her, I -- I pushed myself. I tested my healing factor, to see how far it would go. I walked into fire and jumped off of buildings and I stood at the center of explosions and I willingly walked into the most dangerous situations I could find at every chance I could get. I sought it out."
She isn't entirely sure how all of this relates, but it feels like it does. Maybe by saying it all aloud she can lay out all of the puzzle pieces, and maybe Matt can help her put them in the right order. It certainly seems like his puzzle might be the same shape.
"I had team members. I bounced around -- team to team, school to school. I never stayed in one place long and I never kept in contact with anyone after I left. I even have a cousin that I haven't spoken to in ... years."
She needs to know why she's like this. She doesn't ask it aloud. She doesn't know if she can even articulate what the question even is.
"How did you mess things up?"
Freedom also means responsibility, in a way. Responsibility to yourself, responsibility to others, and both the luxury and the necessity of figuring out what you want it to mean. What you want to do with it. What you should do with it.
And it's a lesson that takes time to learn. Sometimes, it takes a lifetime.
To Matt, though, it actually sounds like she's sort of started to figure it out. When she says before I met her, he picks up on the fact that things have changed, since she met her sister. That's a big step, he thinks, and he's actually not sure whether Laura realizes it or not.
But then she asks him a question, and it's both easier and harder to answer it first. He lets out a little breath, but maybe that's just because he's put pressure now on one of the deeper cuts that's still bleeding, if sluggishly. "I haven't always been completely honest with them." His smile is wry; "Partly in the same way that I'm not completely honest with everyone here." In the way that he is more honest with Laura, in the way that he lets her see how helpless he's not. She reminds him of Elektra, in that respect, even if the relationships are completely different. She still plays that role, and he trusts her to play it, and he's grateful he can trust her to do it.
"And..." Now he laughs, but it's as sad as it is amused. "When my ex showed up again, I sort of let her go to my head. Among other things." But that just sounds so... superficial. "I'd have done anything for her. I did do nearly anything for her. And I didn't care what else it cost me. I'm - not sure that I do, still, but it's cost me a lot."
It's funny. Jedao wanted secrets out of him, but it's Laura he's willing to tell them to. Maybe she needs them, if in a different way. "Your sister. You'd do a lot for her, too." It's sort of a question, but it's not entirely.
It isn't as though the bar is very high.
"What if you started being more honest with people here?" Laura suggests slowly. "Is there a reason you need to hide it?" She doubts it; there are so many people from so many different realities where different things are possible that she's fairly sure it wouldn't faze anyone at all.
But as for the question... it's a reasonable one. It is. He has to laugh a little, mostly because, "I don't know? At home, yes. I don't think I know how to not hide it, really," he admits, after a moment. "And even if things are different here... people already treat me differently. Sometimes, it's better to have it be the different that I can predict." And maybe take advantage of, but he keeps that part to himself. It's selfish, and not entirely applicable here, at least. Not when he's just Mat Murdock. "I don't know what they'd do about it, if they knew."
He doesn't laugh again, but instead, smiles wryly. "I can tell when people are lying, when they're telling the truth, when they're scared, just by the sound of their heartbeat. Most people... wouldn't be okay with that." Maybe Laura won't be. But she's the person he's decided can know, so he's willing to tell her, now.
Not everyone cares about being perceived as a good person, but most people really don't want to be thought of as being wrong.
"I'm not suggesting that you make an announcement to the network, but maybe your own walls don't have to be so thick."
Besides, "They do," he agrees. "And they can, because most people can't tell. It's fair that they don't like it when someone comes along who can."
And either way, "It was just an example, anyway." He laughs softly. "Maybe they don't, but I really don't know how I'd feel if they weren't. Maybe that's it." Maybe he likes having his own walls to hide behind, too. Maybe he doesn't let that many people through them, but maybe that's just his nature. He isn't sure whether it's something he ought to change.
"I never thought that I was coming here to change myself," he admits - not because he will or won't, in the end, but more just being honest, laying that out there. It's the truth.
She's careful when she speaks again, after listening to what Matt has to say, taking it all in and processing it as best she can. She knows how difficult it is to let down one's walls, especially when one isn't prepared to do it.
"I didn't think I was, either - but that's still what happens. This place changes people."
Matt just hums, but - it definitely sounds like a different world, not in the least because people like Laura exist. Then again, he can't say for sure that people like her don't exist in his world, only that he's never run into them.
But he does know that he agrees with the rest of what she says. "It does. Maybe it was foolish to think that wouldn't apply to wardens, too," he says. "Although maybe it's what we need - the type of people that come here, that sign on... we're here for change, and you can't necessarily have that without changing yourself, too." Although the amount you change yourself... that depends on the person. "I know that it would be easier back home, for the people I care about, if I gave up this."
He indicates between the two of them - this being sparring. Fighting. Being Daredevil.
"But you can't," Laura says, with a certain degree of familiarity. "I know. I tried, too - I did not want to be what they made me. I couldn't ... just keep killing. So I don't."
But there's more. As honest as she is with herself, and with other people, about her own past, there are still things that she keeps close to her chest. Things that would probably scare people if they knew them, and scare herself if she ever admitted it out loud. "But ..." And she takes a deep breath, her heart beating fast not from deception, but from its exact opposite. "I can't deny what I am. I fight. I'm meant to. I have to. But I can choose who to fight, and why. I wield myself," she adds, with a soft, dark laugh. "The problem being here is that there's nothing to fight. Not like this."
And even the practice in the Enclosure, or their sparring sessions here, aren't enough to sate the need that was built into her. They're just exercises. There's no purpose to them.
[Because Tris knows how she felt after she murdered Alan. She knows how she felt all those months as a liability because of her deal with Bill. Laura feels responsibility very strongly, and losing control must be incredibly hard on her.]
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