Avenger Assembled

“I...made breakfast,” said Murdock, looking stricken for a moment at the look on her face, even though he’d seen enough to know Gina’s demons were internal rather than because of him. . “I...I should go,” he offered, rising to his feet as he sussed out the situation. “I...I just wanted to make sure you were all right and that you would not...wake up alone...” he added. “Are you all right?” he added, “I brought this out for your head...” he added, offering her the glass of blue sports drink. This was not how it went on television, but on the other hand this sort of reaction to him and his deeds was something he knew how to deal with.

Of course, Murdock really had no idea how to prepare breakfast using this kind of equipment. He considered for a moment, then settled for breaking into the fresh food. Within a few minutes, he had two big bowls of fresh fruit set aside, as well as two big glasses of the Mountain Dew Gina seemed to prefer to drink. He thought for a moment about Gina’s potential hangover, then spent some time searching her refrigerator before a careful study of labels gave him some of the electrolyte-heavy sports drinks he’d heard so much about: what he’d recovered from would surely make her sick, and that wouldn’t work at all. He carried the peeled oranges and bananas into the living room and sat on the couch, looking down at the sleeping Gina a little awkwardly. With her asleep, and no doubt waking up with a hangover, crawling back onto the floor with her seemed like an invasion of privacy. It was easier to watch her, and not think about what lay outside the house. He was a very patient man.

Murdock awoke in the very early morning hours, his enhanced physiology having burned through the alcohol in his system fast enough to give him nothing more than a mild headache as he sat up, taking a few moments to remember where he was and why he was naked. Memories of the night before came flooding back, and he turned to see Gina still sleeping next to him. On the other side were his clothes: Emerson, he realized after a moment, had come and gone in the night, having washed and dried his shirt and returned it. Thinking back on the night before, he had no regrets about what they’d done, but he still blushed in a way that made his scars discolor as he began discreetly dressing. He had no idea what the etiquette was here, but his own nakedness was more embarrassing for him than anything else. Perhaps if he could get to the kitchen and make breakfast, as he’d seen on television was the right idea after nights like this...

She hadn’t turned away at the sight of him; he hadn’t hurt her as they were intimate. It was a good day, and a good night, even if you omitted the intimacy he hadn’t had in a lifetime. Despite all that, Murdock felt a moment of guilt tugging at his conscience, but as he lay close to Gina, his arms around her on the floor, he was able to push it away, along with partners past and lives lost. The guilt and responsibility of his life would be waiting for him in the morning, much less any consequences from tonight. Tonight, he had the memories of what they’d done and a woman’s body against his in the cold night. It was enough. He put his arm around Gina and closed his eyes, feeling sleep coming in. “Thank you,” he murmured softly to her in the night.

He returned her kiss with passion, his arms very strong around her waist, his skin almost fever-hot to the touch as they began the urgent business of undressing each other, the television having shifted to the late night Yule log and gone completely out of both of their attentions. Finessing the details of sex would have been challenging enough when they both were sober, as it was it took some rearranging of furniture and some drunken planning to figure out what they were doing and how they would go about doing it. It might have been easier to find Gina’s bedroom, but neither of them could break from the urgent intimacy of the moment as they pulled away clothes and tossed them aside, exploring each other for the first time. It was ultimately easiest to try the heavily carpeted floor, with the blanket beneath. Murdock was very gentle with his big, strong hands, and very careful with his body, having gone a lifetime without physical intimacy he didn’t want to ruin the moment, especially with Gina. It helped that he was strong enough to hold his weight up with one arm, and tall enough not to crush Gina in the process.

“I will never tell anyone,” promised Murdock. “Not anyone, not ever.” His heart was beating fast, and he was very drunk, but he tried to focus on the mechanics. “I weight six hundred and three pounds and I have a mutated genetic structure. I have a condom.” He had several, actually, pressed on him by Satyr during his former roommates unsuccessful attempts to get him to socialize. Safe sex classes had been part of what had gotten him able to live in the ‘real’ world, as irrelevant as they’d seemed at the time. “You’re beautiful,” he added, leaning in and kissing her on the lips for the first time. He was gentle with her, almost overly so despite his great strength, his lips brushing against hers as he held the contact.

“We’re not alone now,” replied Murdock, automatically comforting an unhappiness he didn’t really understand. He saw her wobble, and put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from falling over. “We’re here, we’re together, there’s drink and food, and company...” He fell silent, looking at Gina again, marshalling his thoughts into words. That was getting tougher, and it wasn’t because of the drinking. Murdock was not one to indulge his impulses, but tonight in a friend’s company, with both of them alone inside, it was tougher not to. It had been so long, and when he was truly honest with himself, he was so lonely. “We’re together tonight. We don’t have to be alone.” It was very warm under the blanket now, and it had nothing, and everything, to do with the body heat they were sharing.

“I like you,” said Murdock, giving her that same intent look. “You are a very likable person. You are a hero, you have a nice house, and nice robots, and you have fine drink.” He held up the bottle in his hand and took another drink, straight, then set it down to take the arrival of the hot chocolate from the ever-helpful Emerson. “And good hot chocolate!” he added. “I can drink chocolate whenever I want. It is wonderful.” He stared off into space for a moment. “I have no one to give presents to. Not the sort that they...they do on those shows,” he added with a wave towards the television. “Not to family, or friends like that.”

Between his own intoxication, and Gina’s, it wasn’t easy for Murdock to wrap his brain around the concept. “Children deserve enter...games. I am sure he will enjoy fighting dragons. Perhaps it will ed...be good for him. Combat training is always a sensible decision for young people” He blinked, catching himself rambling and not sure how to stop. “Why no name? Won’t your nephew desire to want to know that it was you who gave him the present?” He didn’t mind sharing the blanket with Gina; sharing body heat was an intimate gesture he appreciated. He certainly was warm to the touch, slightly warmer than a human being thanks to his internal power cells. His hand came down on hers, a gentle touch. “It is very important,” he informed her, looking deep into her eyes, “to be connected to the people you want to connect with.”

“Why don’t we just...just sit down,” said Murdock, who couldn’t quite make his tongue spell out how he felt about Gina buying him new furniture. So instead they settled onto the couch together, his shirt still gone, as Christmas movies played on the television. It was late at night now, late enough that the abstract puppet shows about the war between the Heat Miser and the Snow Miser were at best a distraction from the woman he shared the couch with. He wasn’t sure of what to say, so instead he simply settled in next to her.

“So I am,” replied Murdock, feeling an unaccustomed warmth that had nothing to do with the strong Farsider drink. Or perhaps it did; he wasn’t nearly sober enough to judge. “You know, Gina...” His voice trailed off, licking his lips awkwardly as he obviously puzzled out the next thing he would say. “I am sorry for the mess in your house.” He reached out and awkwardly patted her on the arm, his hand not going away afterwards, instead just resting above her elbow. “How...can I make it up to you?” he asked her warmly.

When she came back, Murdock had taken the hint and removed his shirt, leaving it on the table after several failed attempts to fold it neatly. “Thank you,” he said when she came back with the towels, dabbing distractedly at the big stain on his shirt. Gina’d seen his scans, she’d seen his scars already, and knew what lay underneath, but she hadn’t had a chance to see his solid, muscular build underneath except in a clinical setting, not right there in her living room. “I think...I think it is mostly caught,” he said, tongue stumbling over the words. Normally he’d hardly have taken the shirt off, but he couldn’t get the stuff on Gina’s couch. Besides, she’d seen him before. “I suppose I can wear it back once it has dried. Or go without.”

“My accent is not like yours. Language is not in the Terminus as it is here. So I speak very precisely when I am drunk or otherwise intoxicated, so that I do not sound strange. I have not been drunk before.” He did not want to dwell on the Terminus, so instead he poured himself another drink too, this time watering it with Mountain Dew. “You should not try and compete with me in drinking,” he offered without any real force behind it. “My stamina is far greater than a human being’s. But there is no one else I would rather be drinking with,” he offered. “Not tonight. We earned this bottle, these bottles, and all that comes with them!” On the television, a Burl Ives Christmas special was coming on now that it was so late, and Murdock raised his glass. “Here’s to-oh!” He’d spilled Mountain Dew on the glass while pouring it, and the mug slipped from his fingers and spilled, pouring all over his shirt and immediately soaking through. It was cold, and he stared at his wet torso in baffled surprise for a moment, sitting up to keep from spilling on the couch.

Hearing her talk like that was appealing to the very relaxed Murdock; Miss Americana had always intimidated him with her beauty, but the woman behind the woman was far more interesting, particularly when he himself was feeling very...interesting. “Yes. Yes, I will do that.” He slowly wandered into the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe as he did so. It took him a few moments to find his way around in the kitchen, and there was the smell of cooking food in Gina’s microwave. He came back with two two-liter bottles of Mountain Dew, balancing one under his arm, and carrying a plate of Gina’s hot wings. He set the food down, and the drink, and sat next to Gina again. He forgot the food for a moment, and studied Gina. “You have a nice voice,” he said after thinking on it, before turning back to his food. “It is different than I have heard before.”

“To your health.” Murdock took another drink, a long one, the green Farsider ale burning like fire on the way down. He coughed, then took a moment to compose himself. “I am sure there are many heroes who can de-defend the city in our absence,” he said, too-precisely. “It will be fine.” He reached down and took a few bites of Doritos, hmming at the taste of the familiar luxury item. “I cannot remember when I was this drunk. I will have to thank Star Knight for this. I did not think she would remember me this well. I do not often lower my inhibitions in this way,” he added, almost apologetically.

“Hello, Gina,” said Murdock, who at first didn’t seem drunk at all until Gina saw him walk into the room, carefully measuring his steps as if he was worried he’d fall down. He joined her on the couch and placed his bottle on the little coffee table: where she’d been drinking hers watered-down and was drunk from a quarter and a bit more, he’d been drinking his straight and was tipsy from half. “Your robot was very efficient. You should reward him. Merry Christmas,” he offered, tipping his bottle against her drink, his hands shaking a little. “That is the traditional toast, I believe?”

Truthfully, as drunk as he was, Murdock would have been hard-pressed to retrace even a straight route back to his apartment. He didn’t think about that, though, or anything else as he thanked the robot with grave courtesy, then slowly and carefully picked his way across the concrete floor to the interior door that led into what had to be Gina’s house. He knocked firmly, not wanting to surprise her, as he cradled the bottle in his other arm. “Gina!” he called, “I am here! May I come in?” He leaned his head against the door having asked, taking a little while to compose himself.

The sight of a robot driving a car was by no means the strangest one Murdock had ever seen, even on the streets of Freedom City. The thought that it might be illegal for one machine to drive another was alien to him, and anyway it wasn’t as if he could drive a car himself, especially drunk! He’d seen enough concerned public service announcements to know that. Instead he smiled at the robot and sat in the passenger seat, slowly and deliberately buckling himself in as the car accelerated off into the night. “Hello, Emerson,” he said after considering the boxy robot for a few moments. He wondered irrationally if this was how Protectron made a living, perhaps with a false mechanical face. “Are you able to talk?” he asked. “Or can Gina see me through you?”

Trusting Gina to know what she was doing, even drunk, Murdock nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “Yes, yes, I will be down in the lobby with the bottle. I have a large brown paper sack from my groceries. I will use that. I will see you soon.” He hung up, realized he had no idea what Emerson looked like, and finally trusted that Gina’s messenger (not her sidekick, whose name he knew, would recognize him. And with that, pulling on a sweater against the chill outside (not wanting to look strange), he headed down to the lobby to wait.

“I can come there,” said Murdock, the idea coming to him for the first time as he slowly puzzled it out. He knew how Gina felt about human contact, he'd had a painfully memorable demonstration of that, but she seemed far more relaxed tonight. “Or to wherever you would prefer to meet.” He had no idea where that would be, but the thought of doing it seemed as warmly pleasant as the drinking had been. “I don’t know where you are,” he confessed. “But I can walk many places. Or fly. I am a good flier, and I have a disguise.” He had never actually flown while this intoxicated, but he supposed it would be all right if he was very careful. Maybe walking was the best idea, really.

“I am watching the end of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” said Murdock deliberately. “It is a very very interesting work. The themes of prejudice and superpowers are very...very interesting!” He pictured Gina’s face, and decided she sounded happy. It was a good sound. “I have been singing Christmas carols, and the cat likes them.” He considered a moment and then, greatly daring, suggested, “We should not drink ourselves unconscious alone. I was thinking that we should get together tonight in the spirit of the holidays. We can drink more, and do what we like.”

“I did,” agreed Murdock, “I am drunk,” he added with his usual frank honesty. He certainly had taken more strong drink tonight than he'd taken in a very long time, and the wobbling sensation he felt when he stood up furthered his impression that he was certainly drunk. “I am sitting in my apartment watching Christmas movies. You sound as if you are drunk as well.” There was silence again as he closed his eyes, carefully marshalling his thoughts. “I was thinking of you, and wondering what you were doing. Are you well?”

The alcohol had made Murdock’s voice, if anything, even more deeper and measured than usual. He was doing his best to stay even and in control, which all in all made him talk like he was reading a book out loud. “Hello,” came his familiar voice. “This is Murdock. Merry Christmas to you as well.” A silence fell on the line as he measured his thoughts, alcohol making his voice nervous. “I was wondering what you were doing tonight.” He didn’t give names; she valued her privacy, and he wouldn’t risk it even over the phone lines, even drunk. At least for this. All he was doing was calling up a friend close to a holiday, when they both were full of drink. Or perhaps he had simply just woken her up? It was tough to judge, especially when he had to remind himself to hold onto the phone.

Murdock had put away a solid half-bottle of the Farsider alcohol before he began to feel its more nagging effects on his psyche. As much as he enjoyed seeing all the happy families and spiritual connections on the television, the alcohol made sure he couldn’t forget that neither of those were his: the friends he’d be with on Fleur de Joie’s world were just that, allies against the darkness in whose company he never felt totally easy. Some judged him, others didn’t, either way more than once he’d had the thought that he didn’t dare socialize with them. They wouldn’t enjoy his company except as a project to fix, and some days he wasn’t sure he deserved to have their company, to have their trust. Unbidden, he thought of Gina, the woman behind Miss Americana, and wondered what sort of holiday season the cyberneticist had. It must be a grand thing, he thought without a trace of rancor, to be able to be so beautiful, so poised, so trusted, and without having to wear a mask like he did to do so. She was a lucky woman in some ways. Still, remembering her fear at the sight of him (fear she did _not_ show as Miss Americana, suggesting that it came from her own psyche and not his frightening nature), he doubted she was going anywhere today either. Miss Americana socialized, but he had a feeling Gina (whose last name he had not even learned) didn’t. Surrounded by festivities that must have meant so much more to someone actually from this world, who actually had Christmas memories and a family here, the holidays had to be very different for her. He thought about that, and took another drink. With that thought, Murdock suddenly blinked and slapped himself on the side of the head, a sudden, violent gesture he’d never have done while sober. “Of course! I don’t have Gina’s number...but I do have Miss Americana’s!” Shaking his head at his own drunken absent-mindedness, he rose to his feet and walked to the phone on his kitchen table, slowly and deliberately dialing Miss Americana’s contact number. What was the worst that could happen?

Some time later, Murdock was definitely beginning to feel the effects of the Farsider concoction, most notably when he finally rose from his chair and nearly stumbled through the floor. Having his inhibitions weakened was something of an alien sensation for the former Omegadrone, but it wasn’t necessarily an unpleasant one. Being free from the weight inside his mind and soul, if only for one night, was actually quite enjoyable. He found himself singing along to the Christmas carols on the television, letting his mind settle into the fuzzy blanket that the bottle produced. This was a good place to live, it was a good time of year, and it was good to be alive. This wasn’t his first Christmas, that being a holiday his parents had very occasionally marked in the so few good days, but it was his first as a new man in a new life. He’d pulled his chair close to the radiator, and between that and the strong drink he could almost no longer feel the metallic cold deep in his bones. He thought about going out, but the idea of being seen by friends in an inebriated state was potentially embarrassing. This was a private moment to be alone with his thoughts, a quiet evening to celebrate that his life wasn’t all grey darkness, even here alone he could be genuinely content, even happy. And it wasn’t very likely anyone was going to seek him out, anyway! He found a show about a red-nosed reindeer living with the Santa Claus figure and found himself watching the puppets intently: what secret messages of tolerance were embedded in this delightful program, and how had they gotten the stop-motion animals to move so artfully with such primitive technology?