I'm Meaner Than My Demons

“Someplace better?” He wasn’t going to presume–he’d sure that Stick would tell him first, that heaven wasn’t real, and second even if it was a heartless, soulless creature like the Black Sky wouldn’t go there. Matt was Catholic. He knew better than to make presumptions like that.

“I think anywhere would be better than in here with me…” He laughed, a laugh that quickly turned into a pained cough. “…and my…fucking awful overwhelming blood smell, shit…”

“You could always take a bath,” Elektra pointed out with a small grin. An almost laugh. But she couldn’t bring herself to actually feel any joy in this situation, though. Matt was alive, but she had to wonder if he was better off that way. “Take care of that blood smell...”

"Don’t,” Elektra whispered. More of a breath than an actual word. She flinched away from Clint’s light touch on her neck, brushing her newly shortened hair away from her neck. She’d regretted cutting it almost instantly. As soon as she saw the scar cutting into the space where her shoulder met her neck. Gnarled, twisted, and ugly.

She couldn’t remember the specifics of that scar. There was a lot she had lost coming back. But it was hard to stop obsessing over it and she felt queasy every time she caught a glimpse of the scar. Trying to put together the pieces. And it didn’t matter how soft Clint was, how gently he touched her. The careful brush of his lips against her skin couldn’t make her feel better. Elektra just felt lost and hurt.

     “oh that’s just hurtful.”  and he meant it despite the teasing tone. ha, fake laugh hiding real pain. castle was always stealing his thunder.  “i said i was happy to see you. just give me a little kiss, miss murder.”

“The seas were calm,” Elektra said finally. Talking just to fill the silence. It was the first thing any of them had said in hours They had all the time in the world and no time at all. “There was no wind at all and the Greeks couldn’t launch their ships. All the while Helen was getting further and further away. And Agamemnon’s blood was boiling. Because he wanted to fuck her. His wife’s sister, his brother’s wife. His.” A small humorless laugh escaped Elektra’s lips and she glanced up at Clint. “All this time and space laid before us and men never change, do they?” Elektra, daughter of Sick.

She wondered if she could just stab the keeper of the stone and launch him off the cliff. A sacrifice was a sacrifice. “After a week of nothing--of still seas and calm winds--Agamemnon took his oldest daughter by the hand and lead her to cliffs overlooking the ocean. Iphigenia trusted her father and ,when he commanded her to lay down on the rocks, she did. She didn’t even flinch when her father brought the knife down on her neck and spilled her blood into the sea. He changed the tides of war and all it cost him was his daughter.” Elektra mimed drawing a knife across her own throat. Her mouth tasted of blood, had tasted of blood since she woke up drowning.

Thanos came back without his daughter.

“When men tell the story, they act like Electra loved her father so much that she could betray her own mother. But that’s not the truth, is it? Electra watch him take Iphigenia to the cliffs. She watched her father murder her sister in cold blood. Her sister’s sacrifice turned the tides of war and hers stopped one in its tracks...”

For the first time, Elektra looked up at Clint. Certainly, the story wasn’t new to him, wasn’t new to anyone. But she had needed to work it through. Explain herself or explain Stick or maybe just make anyone understand what the weight of a name was. “He named me Elektra and demanded loyalty. I was created to turn the tides of war.”

I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.

“I am the Black Sky,” she said. Her eyes never left Clint’s. “I have died many deaths before and I will die many deaths again.”

You will serve life itself.

Her footsteps echoed in her own ears as she stepped forward until she was face to face with Clint. Elektra laced their fingers together and brought his palm to her chest. She didn’t even know if her heart still beat. “You took me by the hand and lead me to the edge of the cliff.”  Grip tight, she stepped backwards until they were at the very edge, forcing him forwards. “You commanded me to lay down and I trusted you because I was yours. And I didn’t even flinch when you spilled my blood into the sea.”