Foggy/Matt story, part 2/4: "Jantelagen"
Jan. 1st, 2017 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fannishlissMatt came to, stifled his startle, and started trying to figure out where he was.
The air was moist and cool. It smelled a little musty. He could hear distant dripping, but not in the room where he was. Basement? Sub-basement? Some place underground.
He kept still. At least he wasn’t tied to a chair. He was on a cot, under two blankets. His left wrist and right ankle were secured with only a slight allowance for movement.
“You’re awake,” a voice said— a voice Matt should have been able to recognize, but horribly hollowed and utterly changed.
Terror jolted through Matt with a surge of adrenaline, and he unintentionally jerked against the bonds.
“No one’s here to hurt you,” the voice said calmly.
“Who — who are you?” Matt gasped. His heart was jack hammering — he had to calm himself. He was better than this!
The voice hesitated. He could hear long hair shimmering slightly as the speaker shook her head. (Her long, heavy hair, thick and smooth as silk — no, he refused to consider the possibility!)
“It doesn’t matter,” the voice answered. “What matters is that you are awake. You’ve been in a coma for weeks. You started coming out of it a few days ago. That’s why you’re bound, so you wouldn’t … wander off.”
The accent, the manner of speaking — it was so familiar, yet … there was no heartbeat. No warmth. No scent of her. Matt’s gall rose— the emptiness of the person speaking to him was physically nauseating. He couldn’t bear it to be…
“Elektra?” he whispered.
After a long silence, that in a better life might have been the space of a long indrawn breath and a sigh of resignation — “Not any more.”
“What are you? How did this happen? What — what can I — how can I help— “
Matt hurled the inchoate questions out into the darkness. Elektra had always moved silently, swift as a shadow, just as they had both been taught by the same harsh master — but now, her silence was that of the tomb. That deathly void was so much worse than when the Hand had fought him — concentrating on fighting, on hearing the slightest indications of their movements, had grounded him — but this, this nothing — this had been Elektra, a woman he had loved, a woman he had held in his arms, a strong and lithe body that had moved against his — now breathless, cold, and literally heartless.
“There’s nothing you can do, Matthew,” she said. “It’s already been done. All we can do now is try and take the advantage of what they’ve made of who I was — their precious Black Sky.”
“Did Stick — did he do this?” Matt said, anger surging up through his sorrow and horror. She had been dead. She had fought a good fight, dying redeemed. He had mourned — was still mourning — every nocturnal clash was another blow dealt, at least partly, in remembrance of her.
And now, here she was. A shell. A revenant. A travesty of the most vibrant woman he’d ever known.
“You always thought you were better than us. Better than me. Now, it’s most certainly true.”
“No,” Matt whispered, but it was pointless to deny it. He lived a life of violence, just as she had, just as they had both been trained, but he had lines he refused to cross. Those lines made him think he was better than she was. He couldn’t deny it. But now, the thought only filled him with gut-wrenching shame. If he had willingly joined her fight, stepped in earlier — could he have saved her, or at least helped her avoid this fate, so, so much worse than death?
“I’m sorry, Matthew. This is what I was always meant to become — a weapon. But the Hand doesn’t control me.”
“What about Stick?” Matt asked.
“Our teacher always believed in me, even when he was sure I would be lost,” she said softly. “But I will not be used by him against the Hand, any more than I would allow them to use me.”
“I’ll stay with you, this time,” Matt said. “I swear it. I’ll fight, alongside you.”
“No,” Elektra said.
Pain tore through Matt, fresh grief, another new hell of losing her.
“Please,” he said.
“No,” she said. “You belong to life, and I no longer do. I have tended you, Matthew, and nursed you back to life— a land that is foreign to me now. For you to stay with me would be abomination. Go, in peace — return to your City and to your friends, and remember the love I denied so long.”
“I love you,” Matt cried.
“You loved me,” she said. “What I am now, nothing human should ever love.”
“That’s not true — that can’t be true,” he cried out.
She did not answer, and he realized that at some point, unnoticed, she had undone the bonds. He was free.
“Elektra!” he screamed. The sound bounced around the room, indicating no other body besides his own. An open door. A corridor beyond. A way out.
She was gone, and he would go. He would go on. Again. He would go on without her.
===
Jantelagen is partially about how an individual should be subordinated to the group. Stick, Matt's teacher and father figure after Matt's father's death, constantly berates Matt about how his feelings and needs as an individual mean nothing compared to his training to become a soldier in the war against the Hand, a group of evil ninjas and sorcerors. Stick was more successful in convincing Elektra to fight in this war. Elektra is played for Netflix by Élodie Yung. If you like the character of Elektra, you might enjoy the 2005 movie starring Jennifer Garner, with Terence Stamp as Stick. I loved it!
===
go on to part 3, "kummerspeck"
The air was moist and cool. It smelled a little musty. He could hear distant dripping, but not in the room where he was. Basement? Sub-basement? Some place underground.
He kept still. At least he wasn’t tied to a chair. He was on a cot, under two blankets. His left wrist and right ankle were secured with only a slight allowance for movement.
“You’re awake,” a voice said— a voice Matt should have been able to recognize, but horribly hollowed and utterly changed.
Terror jolted through Matt with a surge of adrenaline, and he unintentionally jerked against the bonds.
“No one’s here to hurt you,” the voice said calmly.
“Who — who are you?” Matt gasped. His heart was jack hammering — he had to calm himself. He was better than this!
The voice hesitated. He could hear long hair shimmering slightly as the speaker shook her head. (Her long, heavy hair, thick and smooth as silk — no, he refused to consider the possibility!)
“It doesn’t matter,” the voice answered. “What matters is that you are awake. You’ve been in a coma for weeks. You started coming out of it a few days ago. That’s why you’re bound, so you wouldn’t … wander off.”
The accent, the manner of speaking — it was so familiar, yet … there was no heartbeat. No warmth. No scent of her. Matt’s gall rose— the emptiness of the person speaking to him was physically nauseating. He couldn’t bear it to be…
“Elektra?” he whispered.
After a long silence, that in a better life might have been the space of a long indrawn breath and a sigh of resignation — “Not any more.”
“What are you? How did this happen? What — what can I — how can I help— “
Matt hurled the inchoate questions out into the darkness. Elektra had always moved silently, swift as a shadow, just as they had both been taught by the same harsh master — but now, her silence was that of the tomb. That deathly void was so much worse than when the Hand had fought him — concentrating on fighting, on hearing the slightest indications of their movements, had grounded him — but this, this nothing — this had been Elektra, a woman he had loved, a woman he had held in his arms, a strong and lithe body that had moved against his — now breathless, cold, and literally heartless.
“There’s nothing you can do, Matthew,” she said. “It’s already been done. All we can do now is try and take the advantage of what they’ve made of who I was — their precious Black Sky.”
“Did Stick — did he do this?” Matt said, anger surging up through his sorrow and horror. She had been dead. She had fought a good fight, dying redeemed. He had mourned — was still mourning — every nocturnal clash was another blow dealt, at least partly, in remembrance of her.
And now, here she was. A shell. A revenant. A travesty of the most vibrant woman he’d ever known.
“You always thought you were better than us. Better than me. Now, it’s most certainly true.”
“No,” Matt whispered, but it was pointless to deny it. He lived a life of violence, just as she had, just as they had both been trained, but he had lines he refused to cross. Those lines made him think he was better than she was. He couldn’t deny it. But now, the thought only filled him with gut-wrenching shame. If he had willingly joined her fight, stepped in earlier — could he have saved her, or at least helped her avoid this fate, so, so much worse than death?
“I’m sorry, Matthew. This is what I was always meant to become — a weapon. But the Hand doesn’t control me.”
“What about Stick?” Matt asked.
“Our teacher always believed in me, even when he was sure I would be lost,” she said softly. “But I will not be used by him against the Hand, any more than I would allow them to use me.”
“I’ll stay with you, this time,” Matt said. “I swear it. I’ll fight, alongside you.”
“No,” Elektra said.
Pain tore through Matt, fresh grief, another new hell of losing her.
“Please,” he said.
“No,” she said. “You belong to life, and I no longer do. I have tended you, Matthew, and nursed you back to life— a land that is foreign to me now. For you to stay with me would be abomination. Go, in peace — return to your City and to your friends, and remember the love I denied so long.”
“I love you,” Matt cried.
“You loved me,” she said. “What I am now, nothing human should ever love.”
“That’s not true — that can’t be true,” he cried out.
She did not answer, and he realized that at some point, unnoticed, she had undone the bonds. He was free.
“Elektra!” he screamed. The sound bounced around the room, indicating no other body besides his own. An open door. A corridor beyond. A way out.
She was gone, and he would go. He would go on. Again. He would go on without her.
===
Jantelagen is partially about how an individual should be subordinated to the group. Stick, Matt's teacher and father figure after Matt's father's death, constantly berates Matt about how his feelings and needs as an individual mean nothing compared to his training to become a soldier in the war against the Hand, a group of evil ninjas and sorcerors. Stick was more successful in convincing Elektra to fight in this war. Elektra is played for Netflix by Élodie Yung. If you like the character of Elektra, you might enjoy the 2005 movie starring Jennifer Garner, with Terence Stamp as Stick. I loved it!
===
go on to part 3, "kummerspeck"
