Marvelous Meditations

Daredevil sat on the rooftop, his back pressed against the rusted frame of a ventilation shaft. His breath was uneven, and his hand clutched his shoulder, the pain radiating through him. Typhoid Mary's telekinetic barrage had taken its toll, and one particularly nasty hit had left his shoulder dislocated.

He gritted his teeth, willing himself to focus as he watched Nathan crouch over Mary's unconscious form, methodically binding her wrists and ankles with zip ties he pulled from a pouch on his belt.

Nathan worked in silence, his movements precise and efficient, his expression cold and unreadable. When he was finished, he stood and dusted off his hands, turning to Daredevil. His sharp eyes scanned the injured vigilante with a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

"You're in bad shape," Nathan said flatly, walking over. "Let me fix that."

Daredevil narrowed his eyes under the mask, his tone defensive. "What are you—"

Before he could finish, Nathan grabbed his arm with one hand and placed his other firmly on Daredevil's shoulder. There was no warning, no hesitation. With a sharp, practiced motion, Nathan popped the joint back into its socket.

A loud pop was followed by a guttural grunt of pain from Daredevil. "Son of a bitch!" he hissed, clenching his jaw as the initial shock of pain gave way to a dull throb.

Nathan stepped back, his face blank as he watched Daredevil rotate his arm tentatively, testing the joint. "You're acting like a baby," he said dryly, crossing his arms.

Daredevil shot him a look, his frustration evident even behind the mask. "And you're acting like a jackass. Maybe give a guy some warning next time."

Nathan smirked faintly but didn't respond. His attention shifted back to Mary Walker, who lay motionless on the rooftop, her breathing shallow but steady. Her smeared makeup and disheveled appearance made her look even more unhinged. Nathan tilted his head, studying her as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"What's her deal, anyway?" he asked, gesturing toward her with a nod. "The chick's nuttier than a sackful of squirrel shit. Telekinesis, a sword, a gun… it's like she's trying to win the crazy Olympics."

Daredevil let out a weary sigh, rubbing his shoulder as he leaned against the wall. "Her name's Mary Walker, a mutant. She has dissociative identity disorder. Multiple personalities, each with its own quirks, powers, and… issues."

Nathan frowned, his gaze narrowing as he looked at her again. He noted her scanty outfit and the over-the-top makeup that seemed to scream desperation for attention. Shaking his head, he muttered, "A lack of paternal love and psychokinesis… yeah, that's a dangerous cocktail right there..."

Daredevil's lips pressed into a thin line, his patience wearing thin. He tilted his head slightly, the subtle gesture giving away his growing suspicion. "Forget the jokes," he said, his voice sharp. "What's your deal? Who are you, and why do you feel so..." He trailed off, his senses swirling with a strange familiarity, like a song half-remembered. "Familiar."

Nathan turned to him, feigning an affronted expression. "And here I thought you'd recognize me instantly," he said with mock disappointment, shaking his head theatrically. "You wound me, Shades. You wound me."

The nickname hit Daredevil like a gut punch. His frown deepened under the mask, and he muttered, almost to himself, "Shades?" He paused, his mind racing back through fragmented memories.

A name began to surface, a ghost of a connection that had been buried under years of chaos and loss. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned.

"Nate?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Nathan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward with deliberate ease, closing the distance between them. Before Daredevil could react, Nathan wrapped an arm around his neck in a loose, brotherly hold, pulling him in slightly.

"Look at you," Nathan said with an exaggerated grin, tilting his head to appraise Daredevil like a proud older sibling. "All grown up, dressed like a devil, hanging out on rooftops like some kind of urban myth." He let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing across the rooftop. "But you're still shorter."

Daredevil shoved him off with a scowl, the gesture quick and forceful. "Cut the big brother routine," he snapped, his tone cold. "You walked out on me. On everyone."

Nathan sighed, the humor fading from his face. He crossed his arms, looking down for a moment before meeting Daredevil's glare. "Yeah, I did," he admitted, his voice quieter but steady. "And I had my reasons. But I knew you'd handle it." His lips curved into a faint smile, one filled with a mix of pride and regret. "Back then, people would look at you and see a blind kid. Weak. Helpless. But I knew better. Always did. And look at you now—Hell's Kitchen's guardian angel. I'm proud of you, Matt."

Daredevil froze, his mind reeling. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. Nathan's words carried a weight he wasn't prepared for, tugging at something buried deep within him. But then the anger bubbled back to the surface, a defense mechanism against the flood of emotions. He waved Nathan off dismissively, trying to regain control.

"I don't remember you being this corny," Daredevil said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Nathan chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Time changes people."

Daredevil's sharp senses picked up on the faintest shift in Nathan's demeanor, a flicker of tension that hadn't been there before. His expression darkened as a thought struck him. "Wait a minute," he said, narrowing his eyes behind the mask. "I know what this is about. It's about that woman who's been asking questions about you, isn't it?"

Nathan tilted his head slightly, giving Daredevil a bemused look, as if the question itself was absurd. "Snitch on me? About what?" He raised an eyebrow before letting out a dry scoff. "What, like that time I stole the donations from the church basket to buy you that cassette player so you could listen to your music? Yeah, I'm sure the feds are lining up for that intel."

Daredevil froze for a beat, caught off guard by the unexpected memory. Despite himself, he let out a low, involuntary chuckle. He shook his head, trying to suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. "Fair enough," he admitted, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I suppose I don't have much to snitch about after all."

Nathan smirked, the expression relaxed but knowing. "Damn right you don't."

Daredevil sighed, the levity fading as he leaned against a nearby vent. "But seriously," he said, his voice low and firm. "What are you doing here? And how did you even recognize me?"

Nathan shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, his body language loose and almost too casual. "Believe it or not, I was just passing through." He gestured vaguely toward the street below, as if his aerial antics were a perfectly normal way to travel. "And then I saw you getting your ass handed to you by that loon over there." He jerked his thumb toward the unconscious Mary Walker, who was still bound and slumped against the rooftop.

Daredevil's frown deepened, but Nathan continued before he could respond. "So I thought, 'Hey, let me step in before this guy gets himself killed.'"

The explanation didn't sit well with Daredevil, but he bit back a retort, opting instead to study Nathan with his keen senses. The older man's heartbeat was steady, his voice carrying no obvious signs of deceit.

Nathan, meanwhile, turned his attention back to Daredevil, his expression softening slightly. "As for how I recognized you…" He tilted his head, pointing directly at Daredevil's mask, particularly the fabric covering his eyes. "Well, there aren't many blind guys who move the way you do. You fight like you're reading the air, Matt. That's not exactly subtle."

Daredevil stiffened at the mention of his name but didn't interrupt.

Nathan crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he continued, "The rest was just guesswork, really. The devil costume's a nice touch, though. It screams 'I've got unresolved trauma but I'm making it work.' Very chic."

Daredevil's lips tightened, his irritation barely concealed. "You've always had a way with words," he muttered, sarcasm lacing his tone.

Nathan grinned. "It's a gift." He paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But don't worry. Your secret? It's safe with me. Locked up tighter than Fort Knox."

Daredevil didn't reply immediately, his senses zeroing in on Nathan's demeanor, searching for any hint of a lie. He found none. Finally, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Nathan smirked again, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And yet, you missed me. Admit it."

Daredevil shot him a glare but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned his attention back to Mary Walker, who remained eerily still. "If you're done with the theatrics, maybe you can help me figure out what to do with her."

Nathan followed his gaze, his smirk fading as he studied Mary. "She's a live wire, huh?" he said, his voice more subdued. "You've got your hands full with this one, Shades."

Daredevil sighed, the weight of the situation settling back on his shoulders. "Tell me about it."

Nathan glanced back at him, his tone light but pointed. "Then it's a good thing I'm here, and that I know just the person to give her the paternal love she so desperately needs in her life..."

...

The atmosphere in Charles Xavier's office was serene but charged with an undercurrent of tension. The faint hum of advanced machinery in the background was a stark contrast to the quiet intensity of the conversation taking place.

Nathan sat in the chair across from Xavier's polished desk, his body language relaxed, but his eyes were sharp and calculating as they took in the man before him.

Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. "Mr. Cross," he began, "Let me start by thanking you for being here on such short notice..."

Nathan nodded slightly. "You're very welcome. But before we get down to business," he said, his tone casual, "I have a favor to ask."

Xavier's eyebrows lifted slightly, but his expression remained composed. "A favor?" he echoed. "I'm intrigued. What is it you need?"

Without a word, Nathan reached into his jacket and produced a thin manila folder. He leaned forward, sliding it across the desk toward Xavier. "Take a look at this for me."

Xavier's fingers brushed the edge of the folder before he opened it, his sharp eyes scanning the contents. As he flipped through the pages, his normally serene expression shifted, his brows furrowing and his lips pressing into a thin line. "Mary Walker," he murmured, his tone almost wistful. "I knew of this child... but I didn't realize the extent to which she was troubled."

Nathan leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. "Troubled is putting it lightly," he replied dryly. "The girl's got multiple personalities, and each one comes with a different flavor of crazy. Not to mention how her powers manifest differently depending on who's in control at the moment." He let out a sigh, the weight of the situation evident in his tone. "She's not just broken, Professor. She's shattered."

Xavier closed the file gently, resting his hands on top of it as he regarded Nathan with a steady gaze. "And the favor?" he prompted, his tone carefully measured.

Nathan met his gaze without flinching. "I want you to take her in," he said simply. "Use your connections, your resources—whatever it takes. Fix her. Put her pieces back together, if you can."

Xavier didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied Nathan with a thoughtful expression, as though trying to read the man's true intentions. Finally, he asked, "And why is this so important to you? Do you have a personal connection to this child?"

Nathan shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Not directly," he admitted. "I helped a... friend put her behind bars recently. This friend of mine—he's the one who's connected to her. He feels responsible for the way she turned out, like it's somehow his fault she's the way she is."

Xavier tilted his head slightly, his curiosity evident. "And you're here on his behalf?"

Nathan nodded. "He wants to make things right, but he doesn't know how." He gestured loosely around the room. "But you've been putting people back together for years. You've got the resources, the expertise, and the patience to deal with someone like her. The motive too, I think."

...

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