Disclaimer: the characters and concepts in this story are the property of Marvel and their related affiliates. This is an amateur writing effort meant for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: "You had a razorblade sewn into your arm."

That's it. That's the story.

Author's Notes: This came about during a Skype conversation with Dichotomy Studios (on AO3), to whom I owe a great deal of thanks. It's short, it's ridiculous, and I hope you enjoy. Cheers!

Sharp Objects

"Where'd you get this one?" Claire asks, poking at it with her forceps. The rest of him is laceration-free thanks to his body armour. This wound stands out. Deep but deliberate. A steady hand made this cut and stitched it up. Trust Matt to have dug his fingers into it and torn the damn thing open. Probably wanted to 'see if he could move' or something.

The colour rises in Matt's cheeks. "Accident."

Uh huh, sure, an accident. His voice rises in pitch at the end like he's making a suggestion, seeing what she'll believe. Claire prods him some more, picking torn stitches out of his skin. "It looks like you dug something out of your arm."

He swallows, coughs. "A razorblade."

Claire honestly thought she had heard it all. Bulletproof skin, superhuman strength, undead ninjas, ancient cults, super senses...but there goes Matt Murdock, proving her wrong. "You had a razorblade in your arm."

Matt grimaces. "Yeah."

"Was that before or after it was stitched up?"

"It was stitched-"

"-stitched into your arm?"

"-my arm. Yeah."

She is going to regret asking questions like this. She always does. "Why did you stitch a razorblade into your arm?"

"I didn't," Matt scoffs lightly. He wouldn't do something like that. "Frank did."

"Frank." Claire tries to place the name. "Frank…Castle, the Punisher? That Frank?"

Another grimace, well after all the torn stitches have been removed. "Yeah."

She stops working. "You let the Punisher stitch a razorblade into your arm?"

"I didn't let him, Claire. I…" Matt considers his next words very carefully. He must be aware of how pissed off she is. "I…didn't stop him."

"Why the hell not?" Claire demands.

Matt squirms a little in his seat: from the interrogation, not the sutures Claire is administering. "He said it would be helpful."

"Any reason he couldn't use his own arm?"

"He already had a razorblade in his own arm."

"Of course, he did."

He rolls his eyes. "You can't have more than one razorblade in your arm at a time."

Claire is going to punch him. Hard. "You shouldn't have any razorblades in your arm, ever!"

Matt absorbs her judgment in silence. He hangs his head slightly, ashamed, and mutters something that Claire makes him repeat because did he just say that?

Yes, he did: "It was helpful." In a tone that's humiliated but also a little proud.

Claire mentally counts to ten. "Matt…"

"I was tied up. I dug the razorblade out and cut the ropes."

"How about you just don't get tied up?"

"I didn't plan on getting tied up."

"Just lucky that you had that razorblade in your arm to cut yourself free, huh?"

Matt sighs, defeated. "It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"I wonder why." Claire knots off the fresh stitches. "I wonder why."

Happy reading!