stardustly | au scenarios open post

[ Head snapping up, Steve looked around quickly to find the source of the voice. His eyes eventually fell onto a shadowy figure standing in the doorway and he wished he never bothered to find the source in the first place. It really drove home the fact he needed some sleep and quickly, going so long without had some very damaging side effects. Rubbing at his eyes, he shook his head a few times as if to clear the premonition standing in front of him.

Slowly cracking open an eye, he groaned deeply. Still there. ]

Not real. You're not real. I just need to cut back. Sleep when I claim I am and not checking out things. It's fine. It's fine. [ He rubbed at his eyes again, trying to convince himself of it all being an illusion but the voice made it a little difficult.

Hallucinations were generally soundless, right? ]

[ Giving into the madness temporarily: ] We're resting up before getting back out there.

[ The man heard him. He heard him! Matt can't decide whether to be excited or worried, but he doesn't have to wait more than a moment for his choice to be made for him. He never should have spoken, now this fellow soldier has an even heavier burden for his mind than before. ]

I'm sorry, sir. [ He draws back from the doorway, moving carefully, as though there's any reason to be concerned about running into things. Maybe if he goes somewhere else and stays quiet, the stranger will forget about him and get the rest he obviously needs. ]

You should, though. [ Matt can't really help himself, the man sounds terrible. ] Sleep, and not lie about it. [ Because of course he's going to take advice from a-

He shies away from finishing the thought, reaching a hand unnecessarily toward the wall as he turns away. They'll all be gone soon, and then maybe Matt will be too. ]

Edited 2017-07-03 02:45 (UTC)

[ The sorry sir threw him off guard a little, not more than a GHOST in the doorway but still yet. Standing up slowly, Steve began to reach out but stopped just short of making contact. Would he actually make contact? Had he started hallucination from exhaustion? He heard plenty of stories from others about the areas being haunted by those who lost their lives in such violent ways.

Before now, he never believed in such stories. How wrong he had been. ]

Wait. [ What? Shaking his head, he motioned for the man to come back into the room. ] Uh - who are you are? What happened?

[ Talk about losing it. ]

[ The stranger might not be Matt's commanding officer, but he's an officer all the same, and the order to wait carries no less strength. He can sense the man's approach, relieved when he stops short. It was an uncomfortable feeling the first time the man walked through Matt, he doesn't relish a repeat of it so soon. ]

Private Matthew Murdock, sir. 308th Infantry. Whittlesey's 77th. [ Part of the 'Lost Battalion', although Matt isn't aware of the moniker. All he knows is that the Argonne took every friend he had, his sight, and eventually his own life as well. He isn't sure how much of that to tell this man, though. ] We were pinned down holding Hill 198. I was, uh. I was wounded during the shelling.

[ The ghost of a soldier hovered in front of him and Steve felt a sickening twist of his gut as realisation dawned on him. The soldier before him had to be apart of the 'Lost Battalion' from the first world war. The injury and everything else just added up and it rose a lump in his throat. It nearly felt like a premonition in a way of how much loss he would face during the course of the war.

Who knew how long it would even last. ]

Thank you for your service. [ The words were soft and he only wished he could offer more. ] I'm sorry for - [ He shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. ] What year do you think it is?

[ The expression of gratitude takes Matt by surprise, and for the first time in who knows how long, a hesitant smile appears on his face. No one's ever said that to him before, no one's ever thanked him. It feels nice.

He stands up a little straighter because of it, too. If he'd been able to somehow make a difference, if things were better now, then dying would be worth it. ] Thank you, sir.

[ Once again he's thrown off-guard by something the other man says, cocking his head in confusion. ] 1918. Maybe...1919? [ He doesn't really know how long he's been dead, after all, but it's obviously been a little while. ]

[ The fumbling with the date sunk Steve's heart further in his chest and he wished he never asked in the first place. Upsetting a spirit probably wouldn't earn him very many brownie points. Looking down for a moment, Steve moved back to sit on the end of the bed. The exhaustion still lingered and he wanted to make sure he wouldn't crash onto the floor and rouse the rest of the Commandos. ]

Aren't ghosts supposed to cross over? [ He still wanted to blame the exhaustion but he decided to accept the state of things for the moment. For the most part. ] Do you have some kinda unfinished business or something?

[ When the man's only reaction is to return to the bed, Matt can't decide if that's good or bad. Until he notices the slowness in the way he moves, the unconscious heaviness in how he carries himself. Of course he's exhausted, they all are, aren't they? And the officers more than anyone, Matt supposes. Carrying the weight of command, the expectations of their men. The guilt of loss. ]

I, uh. [ Matt figures it's good that he's a ghost, hopefully it hides the flush of shame that rises in his face as he ducks his head. ] Don't know that I'm all that much of a hurry, considering.

[ If there's unfinished business, he doesn't know what it is. But he isn't going to argue over any kind of reprieve from the one-way ticket to Hell he knows is waiting for him. ]

[ Giving a tired nod of his head, Steve noticed the commotion downstairs becoming quieter and quieter. The others must be settling down for the night to catch some shut eye. Something Steve needed to do as well because he couldn't remember the last time he actually slept. But in his defense, super soldiers could go much longer without sleep. But pushing himself so strongly would probably come back to haunt him. ]

Well, you don't have to worry. We won't be here too long before we're heading back out. We've got a lot more ground to cover. [ And raids to accomplish but why worry a ghost unnecessarily? If he even believed the whole ghost aspect in the first place. ]

Been awhile since I talked to someone like this. [ Usually, the others were only discussing strategies with him, which he understood but he needed to unwind sometimes too. ]

[ It feels strange, for the man to be reassuring Matt that he'll have his privacy again soon. As if it's his house, as if he has any memory of the time that passed between his death and the appearance of the soldiers there now. What if he just goes dormant again once they leave?

What if he doesn't, and he's doomed to wander the old rooms alone forever? ]

You aren't bothering me any, sir.

[ He wishes he had a name of some kind to refer to, a rank if nothing else. It seems so impersonal to think about the man as just some unknown officer. He has orders and a mission, men to look after. He has an identity. Too many soldiers have already disappeared into time without leaving a name behind. ]

Been a while for me, too. [ Matt can't help the little joke, and the quirk of a smile that forms below the bandages covering his eyes. ] I can listen, I don't mind, if you feel like talking. Not like I can spill any secrets. But I, uh- I was wondering if you would tell me your name.

[ Talk about forgetting manners in his exhausted riddled mind. There were just so many things to take care of and for some reason the title of Captain had fallen onto his shoulders, JUST because of the entire serum ordeal. No matter what happened, he never really earned the rank as he should have and it constantly bothered him. Would he have earned it in the natural course of service or would he have been found unfit for the role? Sometimes, he wondered if he really had what it took to be an actual leader. ]

My manners could use a talking to. Steve Rogers and you can just call me Steve. [ He offered a faint smile, slowly resting back against the wall and the pillows. Sleeping should have come easily for him but he felt too on edge to really give into it. Besides, what if something happened? He needed to keep alert for his men and women. ]

I don't think I really have any secrets. I mean, besides what got me into the army in the first place. I wasn't entirely honest there but it worked out in the end. [ A moral grey area at best and downright illegal at worst. ]

Guess they can't get me for insubordination, can they?

[ Matt can tell from the accent that he's talking to a fellow New Yorker, and there's something about switching off the military persona that makes him feel more relaxed. He's never really been comfortable with it anyway. Although he supposes that's who he is for good, now. ]

Just Matt, then. You're from...Brooklyn, aren't you? It's nice to hear the accent again. [ Every one of his comrades-in-arms was from the city, a mishmash of Bronx and Manhattan, Queens and Harlem. A little bit of home away from home. ]

You enlisted? That's brave of you. Me, I was drafted. Most of us guys were.

[ For the first time in a long time, Steve actually laughed and it felt out of place nearly. There weren't many things to laugh or smile about in the middle of a war zone and he took so much on his shoulders. Far more than any person should actually be able to handle, super soldier or not. But he refused to let anyone else into the grief if he could take it for his own. ]

I am. You've got a good ear for accents huh? [ The smile remained on his face. ] Where were you from? Something New York, right? [ Accents were a little trickier for him. ]

[ He gave a nod of his head, belatedly realising Matt wouldn't be able to see with the bandages. How did that work with being a ghost? ] My best friend got drafted and well I couldn't be. I wasn't eligible for enlisting but that didn't stop me from trying. Did everything I could to get here. Everyone else was risking their lives and I had no right to not do the same.

[ Matt practically glows at hearing that laughter, proud that he could provide even a brief moment of levity. It's probably inappropriate, but he doesn't care. Sometimes laughter is the only way to get through the hell of war. ]

I've always liked to listen to things -- people talking, all the things going on around the city. And it seems like I hear things with a little more clarity now. Not sure why. [ He nods, grinning. ] Hell's Kitchen.

[ Steve's story makes him feel a little guilty, but his respect for the man grows. Real respect, not just what rank demands. His smile fades, though, as recent memories overtake older, more pleasant ones. ] You're a better man than me. I wouldn't have...this isn't really what I'd have picked for myself. [ Unconsciously, he clenches his fist against the phantom of a tremor that followed him out of the Argonne. ]

[ There were certain sounds Steve longed for but knew he wouldn't find in the middle of a battlefield, such as the noise of the city and the scratching noise of a pen against paper. A thumbing heartbeat lulling him to sleep at night, something he missed most of all. But gone were the days he needed to take extra care to even make it through until morning. Most health risks were completely taken care of. ]

Did you always hear really well or did that come from - [ He trailed off, not wanting to hurt Matt or make him talk about something he'd rather not.

Hell's Kitchen. A little ways from where he grew up, then. ]

If you ask anyone in my life, they'd just say I was stupid. Stupid and stubborn. [ But he preferred to think of it as determined. ] What did you want to do instead? I mean if you weren't drafted? Or if you - [ Made it home. ]

I've always had good hearing, but it's...different, now. I hear things that I don't think anyone normally can. [ He has no idea if it's a compensation that began when he lost his sight, or if it's all part of being a spirit. Not that it really matters, he supposes. ]

Is there really that much distance between brave and stupid? [ He tilts his head toward the stairs. ] They're not griping about you down there. They sound loyal. Tells me which side of the line you fall on.

[ Matt's head bows at the question. Like speculation about his senses, does it really make any difference what his plans were before the war came for him? ] I was thinking about trying to get into college. I wanted- I wanted to be a lawyer.

[ How would it feel to lose so much time and not have any way of making it up? To not have any way to grasp onto another chance of life? Each soldier knew they might never return home but they always held onto the hope they would. That the war would end and they would see their loved ones. They would return to a life waiting for them.

But for Matt, he would never have the chance, how unfair life could be.

All in the pursuit for freedom too.

Slowly resting back onto the bed, Steve nodded his head against the pillows. He moved to lay on his side to look at Matt. ]

They're really good men. Hope all of them get to make it out of this. [ He paused for a moment to adjust into a more comfortable position. ] I wanted to - do something with art maybe. It's always been an outlet but never any time for it now. Never really time for anything.

[ He offered a faint smile. ] Bet you would have been a good lawyer with that voice of yours. You sound trustworthy.

[ He can hear Steve moving, the creak of the bed telling him that the man is lying down, and he knows he should take his leave. But the chance to talk to someone is so hard to give up. What if he fades away once they're all asleep?

What if this is all only a dream, and he'll be the one to wake up to nothingness? ]

From your lips to God's ears, as the nuns used to say. [ Matt hopes the same, and makes a mental promise to say a prayer for all of them.

The revelation that Steve wants to be an artist is an intriguing one, and he nods with sympathy. ] There's always time to put something good into the world. Don't give it up. If you don't have anything to draw on, then... then make France your canvas.

[ If he was alive, he'd be blushing, both from his own earnestness and Steve's compliment. ] Thanks. I'm glad you can hear me. It's kind of weird, this is all kind of weird, but I'm glad.

[ the nun comment earned a chuckle, Steve shifting around yet again in almost frustrating. his entire body ached worse than he could ever remember, even before the serum and all his illnesses. this felt different, more than just on a physical level but he refused to dwell too long on it. ]

Are you Catholic, then? [ he just so happened to also be Catholic but he hadn't been a practicing one in a long, long time. not since his ma passed, really. ]

[ settling onto his stomach, he tucked an arm underneath the pillow. ] Are you saying I should vandalize property for the sake of art? You must not be a manifestation of my conscious.

I can see you. Just can't touch you. [ he looked over towards Matt, a thoughtful look filling his face. ] Can I ask something that will sound really, really stupid?

Oh yeah, definitely Catholic. I was even raised by nuns half my life. You?

[ His smile widens as Steve chides him about promoting vandalism. ] Better for the sake of art than for the sake of war. [ It used to hurt, to see beauty destroyed because men would rather kill than empathize.

When Steve remarks that he can see as well as hear him, Matt reaches instinctively to the bandages across his face. It's funny how that seems somehow worse than the fact that he's actually dead. ] Yes sir, of course.

[ Actually being raised by nuns sounded a little horrifying all things considered, at least, all the ones he knew were so strict and completely not amused by his antics. ]

I'm Catholic too. Irish Catholic if you want me to be a little more specific. Been a long time since I went to a service of confessional. Would probably have too much to say now. [ There were too many horrors already staining his life and he knew they would linger long after the war ended. ]

[ He gave a tiny shrug. ] You just assume I have any real talent. I might be terrible and just make things look worse.

[ When Matt reached for the bandages, Steve felt so awful for his quip. He would need to watch his word choice. ] Would you mind staying? Here? With me?

Me too, but you could probably tell from the name. [ Matt thinks back to the last time he had a chance to go to Confession, and realizes there was probably nobody around to give him Last Rites when he passed. Maybe that's the reason he's still here now. It isn't what he was taught to expect from Purgatory, but in a way it makes sense.

Especially when Steve makes his request. ]

You want me to keep watch? [ Instinctively, he stands a little straighter. Matt never has been good with idleness. ] Yes, sir. I'd be glad to.

[ Giving a small smile, Steve tried to find a semi-comfortable position on the bed to try and catch at least an hour of sleep. He couldn't even remember the last time he slept, which he knew would push too hard at the confines of the serum pulsing through his veins. ]

Thank you, Matt. [ The words were a drowsy muttered as his eyes grew heavy and after a few more seconds he fell into a mostly fitful sleep.

Exactly an hour later, Steve's eyes fluttered open and he let out a low groan. He sat up quickly, eyes darting around as he tried to remember his current location. Everything felt so fuzzy and he was still so tired. ]

[ Taking up his post in the doorway of the bedroom, Matt treats the request like he would have a real order to stand watch. Time doesn't seem to pass the same as it once did, or else he's lost his ability to keep track, but he does his best to be the sentry Steve needs in order to rest.

It's a surprisingly draining experience. By the time he hears the man rouse, his connection with the world has begun to fade. Matt himself feels tired, but he desperately wants to remain. ]

I'm still here, sir. [ Even to his own ears, he voice sounds weak, and he wonders what he must look like. If he can even be seen at all anymore. ] Nothing to report.

[ Blinking a few times, Steve climbed out of the bed and moved closer to where he heard the voice come from. The shadowy silhouette had faded somewhat, just a flickering there now. Odd. ]

Are you tired? [ Could ghosts get tired? Never having believed in ghosts in the first place, Steve lacked information about them. ] I can't really see you. More like an outline. I can hear you, though.

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