Franklin Nelson sat in his comfortable leather chair, the weight of his realization settling like cold lead in his stomach.

"Foggy?" Karen asked, "Are you still there?"

Good question, he almost answered. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course." He put a hand to his forehead. God damn you, Matt. He felt guilty about that thought almost immediately. So help him, it took a second. "Just - "

"I mean, I get why you couldn't tell me. I do. But still - G-d, Foggy." Her voice still sounded a little wet, a little shaky.

"Karen. This is important." She huffed a laugh. Foggy ignored it. "How long ago did you talk to him?"

"About the ticking time bomb shaped like a mask that he handed me?"

"Yeah. That. Or anything."

"We haven't talked at all since then."

"How long, Karen?"

DDDDDD======DDDDDD

Foggy was rushing out the door before she finished speaking.

"Uh, sir?" Michael, Foggy's assistant, stood up from his desk in Foggy's private reception area. For the first time since being introduced, Foggy didn't get a little giddy about the thought that he had a personal assistant.

"Gotta go. Reschedule everything. Family emergency."

"Uh... okay. But -"

"Everything!" Foggy yelled over his shoulder, already halfway to the elevators.

He put the phone back to his ear and could hear a confused Karen saying something, but he cut her off. "Tell me everything. As much as you can remember, as exactly as you remember."

"Foggy? What's going on? What's wrong?" Her voice darkened, and Foggy could just picture her eyes narrowing. "What aren't you telling me?"

"No. No, no, I need to know what he said and how he said it. And what you said. And did. Or didn't - dammit, Karen, just..." Foggy looked up as the elevator dinged its arrival and realized people were staring. Fuck 'em. He took a breath and stepped into the elevator, calming his tone. "Karen, I know Matt. And this... G-d, please, just tell me."

"Okay. Yeah." She sounded shaken. "So he called, asked me to meet him at the office. When he got there, he had this... Jesus, it was just in a paper bag. Like a school lunch."

DDDDDD======DDDDDD

He paid the cabbie before they even stopped moving. He called Matt's number one more time on the way up the stairs, but there was still no answer by the time Foggy reached the top floor and disconnected the call.

He knocked on Matt's door. And knocked. And knocked. Foggy rested his head against the wood and started talking softly.

"C'mon, Matthew. You know it's me. We need to talk. I know you can hear me. I can start to shout, but, you know... neighbors. You don't want me to disturb the neighbors, do you?" There was no response. Foggy pushed away from the door and knocked again.

"So help me, Matt, if you don't let me in, I'm going to call the police and lie that you have enough C-4 in your apartment to level a skyscraper. They take that shit seriously now, you know. They'll dig through everything, and I don't care what they find."

There was still nothing. "Matty, please. I'm worried. Please. Buddy, just talk to me."

In the silence that followed, Foggy waivered. Maybe Matthew just wasn't home. Or maybe...

Foggy's phone rang. Matt.

"Oh, thank G-d. Matt."

"Go away, Foggy." He sounded tired and slow, and Foggy's anxiety returned. "It's fine."

"Yeah, and maybe I'll believe that once you open the door and let me see for myself."

Matt sighed. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Yeah. I should. But I'm here. So open the fucking door."

"Go home. Just... just go. It's okay."

"No. We need to talk. I need to talk. Whatever. Just open the door, okay?"

"Why are you here, Foggy?"

"Why...?" In that moment, Foggy honestly couldn't tell which was stronger, the anger or the despair. "Jesus, Matt. Because we're family."

Matthew was silent, and Foggy closed his eyes and prayed. Finally, he looked down at his phone. They were disconnected. Foggy punched the air with the hand holding the phone and mouthed, "Fuck!" He turned in place, looking around, trying to decide if he should try to go in through the roof or if there might be a fire ax nearby he could use to break down the door. They still had fire axes in hallways, right? Or he could use the fire escape to go in through the window. Or - the locks on the door began to disengage, and Foggy whirled around, his heart in his throat.

Matt was standing in the doorway, face inscrutable behind the red glasses. Then he was gone, shuffling back down his hallway, and Foggy followed. Matt kept one hand on the wall as he walked, and Foggy felt a flush of annoyance at the pretense. Even if he were fully blind, Matt knew his own apartment well enough to not need the guidance. But he said nothing, and watched, and saw the way Matt was leaning into the wall for support.

Matt spoke over his shoulder, but didn't turn to face his former friend. "Do you want a drink? I have..." he paused. "I have water. And ice, I think."

"You look like shit," Foggy replied.

Matt just dipped his head a little, and Foggy didn't know if that was agreement or acknowledgement, but it looked horribly like defeat. Matt pushed off the wall and headed toward the kitchen. "I'll get you some water."

Foggy watched. Matt didn't look injured, but he didn't look well. Where he had always been pale, now his skin was like milk under a full moon, a stark contrast to the dark scruff that was edging dangerously toward full-on beard. He was alive and clean and coherent... and missing something that vitally made him the Matty Foggy had always known.

Ash, he thought. The fire had gone out of his old friend and left this cold grey ruin of Matt-shaped ashes standing in its place.

Matthew filled a glass with water and set it on the counter. He stood there, and Foggy stared at Matt and shook his head, wondering when he'd forgotten who his friend was. How alone he was. He put his head in his hands.

"Foggy? What... what's wrong?"

"These are manful tears, dude." But his voice hitched as he said it. "Super macho manly tears that we will never mention again. Okay?"

"What... did something happen? Karen?" Foggy shook his head. "Your family? Candace?"

Foggy looked up in disbelief. Matt's brow was furrowed, his head tilted in worry and concentration in that way Foggy had always teased him about. "You, you asshole!"

Matt's face closed down again, and all he said was, "Oh," and Foggy wanted to punch him. He launched himself across the three feet that separated them and hugged him, instead. Foggy wrapped his arms around Matt and gave up any pretense that he wasn't crying. He held him close, and Matt's hands eventually came up and awkwardly patted Foggy on the back.

"God damn it, you're my family, too, you idiot," he managed to mumble into Matt's shirt.

Matt's grip tightened and Foggy could feel Matt's breath stutter on his next inhale. And then Matt stepped back and untangled Foggy's limbs from around himself. He turned away to grip the edge of the sink and breathe steadily in and out.

Foggy drank the water. It was good. He emptied the glass in three gulps. He set the glass down and regarded Matt's rigid back, the way he was white-knuckling the sink. "Dude, sit down before you fall down."

Matt nodded, straightened, and walked to the couch. Foggy almost sat down in the chair across the coffee table, but then he flashed back to that night when it all started to go so wrong. Matt bleeding and Foggy shouting and Matt crying and Foggy walking away. It still haunted him. He still wavered between self-righteousness and regret. He sat down on the sofa next to Matt.

They were quiet for a while, and Foggy wondered what Matt thought was happening. Fuck do I know about Matt Murdock? he thought again. He shook his head.

"Karen called," Foggy finally said, softly. He watched Matt swallow, wet his lips, and say nothing. "She said you told her. About... you know, the mask. And stuff." Matt's lips quirked for a moment and resettled, but Foggy didn't know what he was thinking or feeling. Even with his best friend sitting next to him, Foggy felt alone. He'd never felt like that with Matt before. It made his heart ache.

"You didn't call. To tell me," Foggy said.

Matt inhaled sharply and nodded. "You're right. You're right, I should have warned you. I'm sorry."

"I - warned me? That's not - it's not about that."

Matt's head twitched. "Then why -?"

"I know what you're doing, Matty." Matthew turned his head away and Foggy could see his eyes shining behind the glasses.

Matt swallowed, adjusted his glasses. "I'm just," he started hoarsely. He cleared his throat and began again. "I'm just being honest. Finally." He faced Foggy. "She... she deserved that. So did you." He wet his lips again. "I should have done it earlier."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I'm sorry. But you know she won't -"

"No, I mean at all. This whole time. I mean, yeah, especially that, but..."

Matt hesitated, and Foggy almost see him constructing his response, carefully parsing the words. "It's better this way," he finally said. "A clean break. Well," he gave a fleeting quarter-smile, "as clean as it could be, anyway. Considering."

Foggy searched Matt's face. "Right." He slumped over his knees and looked at the ground, thinking of everything his friend wasn't saying. "Yeah." Dread swirled in his gut. "You're so full of shit."

Matt said nothing, and Foggy closed his eyes, wishing his friend would fight back, argue, do something to prove Foggy wrong.

Foggy sniffled. "I know what you're doing," he repeated quietly. He forced himself to sit up and look at Matt. "How were you going to do it, huh? Just keep going out until someone got you - until - until someone killed Daredevil?" His voice broke at the title.

Matt shook his head. "I... haven't been out since... I haven't been doing that. I swear, Foggy. I haven't touched the suit."

"So, what? You were going to work yourself to death? Or starve yourself? Or jump off a fucking building?"

Matt's mouth worked a few times before he could say, quietly, "Suicide's a mortal sin. It's... I can't... I can't."

"No," Foggy agreed. He tried not to sound bitter when he added, "You're just going to stop living. Right?" Matt's face was starting to crumple, his composure giving way. "Jesus, Matt, it's the same fucking thing."

"It's not," Matt denied, shaking his head. "It's not. It's... better this way."

"For who?" Foggy asked, his voice rising. "G-d damn it -"

"For everyone!" Matt interrupted. "It's - you wanted me to tell her!"

"Not like that! You're a fucking lawyer, and you drop this shit on her without warning or preparation or - or -"

"Or excuses? She deserves to know what I am. To make her own decision. To protect herself."

"What, from you?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck you, Matt! Fuck you!" Foggy stood up. "This is - you're not - you don't get to do this! You don't get to - to - to confess your sins to us and push us all away and - and - I don't know! Take a swan dive into isolation and self-destruction or whatever the hell it is you're doing! You can't - G-d damn it Matt, I'm not going to let you fucking kill yourself!"

He had somehow, impossibly, paled further, and his voice shook when he said, "I'm not... that's not what this is."

Foggy turned away and took two steps, letting out an inarticulate growl of frustration, before spinning back around, fists clenched. "Yeah. It is. You..." He sat down again, wiped his palms on his pants, and tried to keep his voice steady, concentrating on his knees. "Jesus Christ, Matty. I may not understand Daredevil, but I know Matthew Michael fucking Murdock. And you're - you're performing your last rites."

He looked up, and seeing Matthew next to him, holding so still, his lips pressed together and jaw trembling, breath coming in short, barely controlled bursts, Foggy broke. "Oh, G-d, I'm right." He couldn't breathe. This wasn't happening. "Oh, fuck. This is - this is, like, confession and penitence or whatever the fuck it is you Catholics do."

Matt shook his head, but the movement seemed to break his control. His voice was thick and disjointed, tears pooling behind his glasses and escaping down his cheeks. "No. Foggy, no. I can't - it's forbidden. It's a sin. I can't."

"Yeah. Until you do. Did you think you'd make us hate you? Push your friends - your family - away so that when you finally - like somehow it wouldn't hurt us then? Like that wouldn't actually make it worse for us, knowing that we weren't there for you? Like would we blame ourselves less instead of more?" He put his head down into his hands and wept, bent over his knees. His voice was garbled behind fingers and tears and snot. "You want to kill my best friend!"

Matt moved as though to reach out, to comfort, but pulled back in. He stood up and moved to the supporting beam, leaning both hands against it. His voice shook. "You don't understand."

Foggy scoffed.

Matt took a breath, visibly reigning himself in. "I have to prepare, Foggy."

Foggy looked up, disbelief and anger in his bloodshot eyes.

"I've given up the suit. But there are still... enemies. There are things happening that... it doesn't matter what I do. Anyone I'm close to will be hurt." He choked on the word, "Dead." He faced Foggy, one hand still gripping the wooden pillar. "I'm selfish," he said. "I can't take it anymore." His back bent and his voice was wrecked with tears. "You're - I can't," Matt cried, control gone. "I can't be... responsible... for any - any more."

"Any more what?"

"For - for you and Karen and - and... Foggy, just get on with your life."

"Matt -" Foggy began, frustration bringing an edge to his voice.

"No," Matt interrupted. "No, Foggy, listen to me." He straightened up and breathed deep twice, one hand on his hip, the other still on the support beam. "You were right to leave me." He said, lips tight. "Karen was right to leave me." He paused. "I'll destroy you."

Foggy pounded his fist on the coffee table as he stood up. He immediately regretted it. It hurt. He shook his hand out. "I didn't leave you, you idiot!"

Matt dipped his head. He took his glasses off and wiped his eyes, then put them back on and stared back in Foggy's direction.

"I just, I don't know, needed some time to adjust. Or something. You don't leave family!"

Matt smiled and Foggy thought he might vomit at the sight. "I'm not your family, Foggy. I never was." He straightened further, sure of himself, and Foggy felt even sicker at his words. "I'm just a stray. And you're kind." He took a step forward, hand falling away from the beam. "But you have a family. A real one. And you need to protect them. You need to get away from me." He turned away, waved a hand through the air. "Go home, Franklin."

Foggy's knees gave out, and he was back on the sofa. He stared at Matt, who turned around, resolve in his spine.

"You really believe... how long, Matty? How long have you thought that? All the nights out, the Thanksgivings with my family, leaving Landman and Zack together? You - you thought that was just pity? I just pick up random orphans for bonus points or something?" He shook his head.

"Fuck, Matt, don't you know me at all? This whole time we've been friends, what? You were just waiting for me to leave you? Like I would just... that hurts, man. That really fucking hurts."

Matt gave him a small sad smile and opened his mouth to say something, and a realization flashed through Foggy that made his heart seize in his chest. Matt frowned. "What -"?

Foggy cut him off. "Oh, G-d, no," he moaned. "It's not... you really think..." He laughed without humor. "'It's not you, it's me, right?' That's what you're going to say? I mean, basically? Christ. You and I are going to have a long talk about whatever happened to you, and then I'm going to go beat the crap out of some people. Probably with words and lawsuits, because my physical condition is shit and I'm not a ninja-bat." Matt looked confused, and Foggy liked that a hell of a lot more than the confident self-annihilation on display earlier.

Foggy stood up and walked toward his friend. Matt looked like he wanted to back away, but he held his ground. "Matt. Buddy. You're not worthless. You're not nothing. And... and you're not some object, like... like a weapon or something that's only worth something when it's useful." Matt's lips twitched again. "What would you do if you heard someone talking like that about me? About anybody?"

"That's different, Foggy. That's..." but he was wavering, and Foggy pressed his case.

"No. It's not. Hell, what would your dad do if he heard someone talking about his son like you have?"

Matt swallowed and tilted his head. "It's not... that's irrelevant."

"Why? Why do you think everyone else is so much more important than you?" Foggy put his hands on Matt's shoulders. "Why do you think you deserve to die?"

Matt turned his face away and swallowed, licked his lips, shook his head. "That's not - no. You don't understand. It's... I'm not..." Matt lifted his chin and faced Foggy. "I'm not important. Not in that way. Not like you are. You're good, Foggy. You're a good man and you bring -"

"And you're not?"

"- you bring joy to the people who know you. You make things better."

"Oh, G-d, Matt -"

"No, Foggy, listen to me." Matt gripped Foggy's outstretched arms and spoke deliberately. Every word a scalpel into Foggy's soul. "You were my friend, and I appreciate that. I loved it. Every second. I'll always..." he paused to compose himself. "I always be grateful to you. But I'm not you. I don't get to keep the people I love, Foggy. I bury them." He softened his voice to something unbearably gentle. "I was selfish. I held onto you too long. I couldn't bear losing you. And when I did that... when I did that, I put you in danger."

Matt twitched his head, licked his lips again. Foggy could see his own horrified expression reflected back at him in Matt's glasses. "You were right. I lied to you. And Karen. And everybody. And I lied to myself. I told myself I could protect you. I didn't see what I was." He stopped. "No," he corrected himself. "No, I didn't - I didn't want to admit what I knew I was. And something like me - maybe I can protect the good people like you, Foggy. But I can't ever really be one of you."

His mouth twitched and he tightened his grip. "You're right. I'm preparing for death. That's how this ends. It's always how this was going to end. But you're wrong. I don't need to go looking for it. And I won't let..." He stopped to take another breath. "I won't let the people I love get caught in the crossfire. Not again. Not again. So please. Foggy. Go home."

Foggy just stared, blinking and cold. "You're not even denying it anymore. That you're suicidal. You're just... justifying it. Twisting all the shit in your life and all the shit that's been shoved down your throat by shitty people into some fucked-up delusion that all you're good for is getting shit on."

Foggy let go and stumbled back in his place on the couch. He sighed. "You know, when Karen told me about your... confession, you know what I thought?" Matt shook his head.

"I thought, 'Oh, G-d, no. Not this.' I knew - I knew that you were trying to drive her away. And I knew that you hadn't called me. And, fuck, I hadn't called you. You were cleaning house. Breaking connections. So I thought, 'Oh, Jesus, no, he's going to kill himself.' And when Karen told me how long it had been since you told her - she waited so fucking long to tell me - I thought, 'Oh, Christ, I'm too late.'"

Foggy hugged himself. "I was so fucking afraid I was going to find your body. You'd be hanging from the light fixtures or bled out on the floor or some crap like that, like some bad teenage angst drama, except real. And I was so fucking relieved when you finally answered your fucking phone."

Foggy leaned back. "Take those stupid glasses off, Matty, and sit down."

Slowly, Matthew obeyed, setting the glasses on the coffee table and carefully settling himself to face Foggy.

Foggy waited for Matt to sit before he resumed. "I used to think the worst thing in the world would be finding your body in that stupid costume. And then when Karen called, I thought the worst thing in the world would be finding out you'd - finding your body and knowing you'd - that you'd done it to yourself. But, G-d, Matt, this? I get to watch you die while you're still alive. How's that for fun?"

He leaned toward Matt. "I'm not going to let it happen. I don't care what the hell you think you are or what the hell you think you're worth. You are my friend and my family and you can't do jack shit about that." He sounded almost vicious, he was so determined. "And you don't get to tell me who to love. I love you, you asshole. You're my best friend - ever - and I'm not letting you die, either literally or metaphorically. And if you do, I swear to G-d I will follow you into hell or purgatory or whatever and... I don't know. I haven't planned that far ahead. But I'll think of something, and you'll be miserable."

"Foggy, you can't -"

"You don't get a say in this, Murdock," Foggy interrupted. "I'm seeing you at least once a week if I have to stalk you, and I'm going to be friends with you if it kills me." He folded his arms. "And we are going to have some serious words about this 'better off without me' bullshit. But first we're going to eat, because I skipped breakfast and you look like you think you can survive on air and guilt. And possibly those communion wafer things. They obviously don't have enough calories to keep a ninja-bat going."

Matt hung his head. "You can't fix me, Foggy. And trying to will just get you killed."

"Well, unless you're willing to be the one to kill me, you're not getting rid of me, either. And I'm not trying to fix you. I'm not a 12-year-old girl. No offense to 12-year-old girls. My sister happened to be one for a whole year. She got over it, though."

Foggy reached over and grabbed Matt's shoulder. "Matt. Buddy. I finally get it. Part of it. You didn't have a family. You didn't know that just because I walked away, that didn't mean I'd never come back. Family always comes back. And I was an idiot. I forgot that you didn't have anyone else to go to."

He shook his shoulder lightly. "But this is what family does, man. They're there for you, even when you don't want them to be."

Matt turned his face up, toward Foggy. And Foggy let himself imagine that what he saw in Matt's face was hope.