There's a knock on his window.
Like seriously, outside of horrible teen romance novels, who does that?
Foggy is up and ditching the papers he was working on in seconds and flips open the lock and pushes the window up. When did he stop being alarmed about people lurking on the fire escape outside his apartment at night?
It's never people, it's always Matt.
Matt doesn't climb in, and so Foggy climbs out.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Come inside." Foggy lightly touches Matt's arm, that's all Matt needs to follow.
Matt is fine. He sits quiet and still while Foggy pulls off his mask. Matt's hair is sweaty and sticks up in all directions, but there are no bruises on his face. This is both a relief and a cause for concern.
Next come the gloves. Foggy runs his fingers lightly over Matt's knuckles. "Did you find where they were keeping them?"
Matt nods.
"And?" Foggy nudges.
There's a hitch to Matt's breath, and he leans forward slightly, head down. "I can't-"
Foggy has his hands on Matt's shoulders and he is drawing him closer. He has a hand at the back of Matt's head. "I'm here." He doesn't bother saying it's okay, because obviously it isn't. They stay like that until Foggy feels Matt's breathing even out.
Foggy pulls him up and leads him toward the bathroom where he succeeds in peeling off the rest of the body armour. Foggy doesn't think of it as a costume any more. He folds it and places it on the counter.
There are bruises, but not from tonight. Whatever happened, it didn't involve Matt getting hit. There are other ways to hurt though. Foggy turns on the shower, lets it warm up. He remembers what Matt's body looked like in college, before all this started. There are scars now. The traces of Nobu's blade are fading though they will never completely disappear. The scar below Matt's ribs is the worst. That was the one that almost killed him and it still stands out among the rest. It is a dark purple colour.
Foggy runs a thumb over the bumpy scar tissue. "We'll get through this." Foggy says, and then shifts his hand to Matt's low back to urge him forward into the hot spray.
The outfit needs to soak in a special solution before being placed in the dryer. It's funny in a way. It can deflect blades and cushion blows, but it isn't washer safe.
He doesn't leave the bathroom. He leans against the door and waits. It's not long. Five minutes and Matt has turned off the tap. He opens the curtain and lets Foggy pass him a towel.
With the towel around his waist, Foggy takes him the other way down the hall. To the bedroom. He lets him lay down and he lies down beside him. There's only a few inches between them. Matt shifts and rolls onto his side. He places his head on Foggy's chest. Listening.
"They were all dead. Long dead." Matt whispers and he lets the sound of Foggy's heart drown out all the rest.