Notes:
This was the original prompt: "foggy walks in during matt's panic attack when he loses his hearing in episode two."
This story in un-betaed and English is not my first language, so please, point out any error you find! Also, please, leave a komment, or a kookie, or whatever. I'll answer to everyone, and you'll make my day :)
I CAN STILL HEAR YOU
Matt is late. Again.
No, Matt's not late. Not anymore. It would be a miracle if he just could show up on time once in a while, but no. His best friend is a freaking vigilante dressed in ridiculous horns who needed to be rescued on a roof because someone has shot him right into his helmet.
A warning? A lucky shot (for Matt)?
Foggy is sick of everything.
He wants to go back to that damn night and drink the shit out of himself until he passes out instead of going to Matt's apartment and find him bleeding out on his floor.
When Foggy didn't know, Matt was more careful.
When Foggy didn't know, he didn't have to run their office alone or lie to Karen every fucking morning.
"Where's Matt?" Speaking of the Devil…
"He has to… " words fail him. What the hell, why can't Matt lie to her by himself? Than something else hits his mind: Matt has been shot in his head. Ok, the bullet has barely scratched him, but, still, it was a shot. What if he has a concussion, or something?
Cold sweat runs down his spine. "He hasn't called me yet, I'm going and see if he is okay" he decides, because no matter how pissed off he is, he has to know Matt's allright.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, Karen, thank you. I'll call you if I need help, okay?"
She looks hurt, but Foggy refuses to think too much about it. He stops a cab and few minutes later he is opening the door of Matt's home. "Matt?"
Matt's shoes and cane are still near the door when he usually leaves them, and his spare phone, the one he uses when he's out as Daredevil, is charging hidden behind a pile of books. Foggy sees it only because he knows what to look for. Then why Matt hasn't answered him yet?
"Matt?!" He walks toward the living room… and there he is. Sitting on the ground, his knees against his chest and his head hidden in them. Sobs are making his body shake "Matt!"
No answer and there's no way Matt doesn't know he's here. He has probably heard him thanking the driver for the fare. Something is wrong.
"Matt?" He tries again, taking a step closer.
And then something changes.
Matt tenses, his head rises from his knees and Foggy can clearly see Matt's eyes full of pure, genuine, terror.
"Matt? Ehy. It's me. It's Foggy. What's wrong, pal?"
Someone is in his house.
Someone has found him and now it's coming closer and closer. Matt can't hear his heartbeat, or his steps, but the air is moving and his feet on the ground are causing micro-heartquakes his sensitive skin can pick up.
The smell of the coffee he has made this morning fills his nose. He can't smell anything else. It's too strong. Or is it coming from this person? He can't tell it for sure.
And he can't hear, and if he can't hear his radar sense can't work.
He is blind.
And deaf.
And someone is in his house.
Maybe it's the Punisher.
The Punisher has found him and now he is going to find Foggy and Karen too, and probably also Brett, because if he finds Foggy he can definitely find Brett.
And he can't do anything to avoid it.
He raises his head, hoping something would change, that he could hear or see something, but everything is black and terrifyingly quiet.
The air moves again. He (or she) is getting closer.
He tries to stand, to make his way to the door, but his foot slips on the floor. He falls down, back on the ground, his head spins. He is helpless.
Panic grows up in his chest.
Breathe. Medidate. He remembers Stick's words, but he just can't .
Foggy.
Foggy is going to pay for his reckless, and Karen after him. And then there's Claire.
Breathe .
Matt inhales. Chockes.
He can't breathe.
Someone is in his house and he can't defend himself. He needs help.
He screams, he knows he's screaming. He can feel his vocal cords vibrate into his throat, the air coming out from his mouth, but he can't hear his own voice.
"HELP! HELP!"
Matt is screaming louder than Foggy has ever heard him doing in all their years of friendship. He hasn't thought Matt's voice could even reach that tone. He is almost hysteric in his crying. His chest inflates so much it seems to explode before every shout.
What the hell is happening?
Foggy tries not to panic. Panic isn't good if you best friend is panicking too.
He takes a deep breath and another step toward him, careful and slow. He doesn't want to be attacked and killed by his blind best friend. That would be awkward. And difficult to explain.
Yes, because dead people passes all their time explaining the police what has happened to them and who has killed them.
"Matt" Foggy tries again "Please… what happened? Matt!"
Still no answer.
Matt's still in panic.
Foggy decides he doesn't care if Matt will beat the shit out of him, he can't just stay there and see his best friend like that, no matter how the whole Daredevil thing pisses him off.
He's still Matt.
He's still the guy who helped him during the college era, when no one believed in him, who literally smashed Rosalind the only time she came visiting him before the degree ceremony, when she assumed he would end up being a graduated butcher instead of a butcher. Foggy realizes in that moment he just can't leave Matt alone.
Foggy makes the final steps and reaches for Matt's wrists, holding them tight when he starts fighting him, shaking with terror.
"Matt. It's me. It's me. Calm down. You are safe. It's me"
The man is holding him down, trapping him using only his hands. It's not even the effective hold of a trained person. It's just an hold.
He could free himself. It's not that hard. He should be able… but he can't.
He could, then what?
He can't even stand, or navigate himself around his own home like that, leave alone parkouring through rooftops or fighting his attacker. But he can't give up, either.
He keeps fighting.
Then something catches his attention. The shift of fabric against his hoodie is something he has already experienced, as well as the smell of shampoo and aftershave. Now that he is so near he can smell it behind the coffee. It feels familiar to his skin and nose, but it's difficult to identify it without hearing. He knows the man is speaking, the air moves and gets more humid when words leave it, but he can't figure what he is saying, he has never learnt how to read lips.
He wants to laugh. A blind man reading lips. It would be fun to see in a circus.
The grips on his hand tightens, and finally there's something he can use. Even without his hears, his sense of tact is still efficient enough to pick up the stranger's heartbeat through his pulse. Matt focuses on that.
It's muffled, as if he was wearing headphones and the man was on the other side of his house, but it's more than enough.
A relieved sob escapes from him, and he stops fighting, leaning against Foggy for support as he starts shaking and crying again.
"Fo… Foggy… I… " he can't say that out loud, Foggy will get mad again and leave him forever. He can't… but he can't help it. He needs Foggy to know. Foggy deserves to know what's happening to him "I… can't... hear…."
Foggy is astonished. Matt has passed from fighting him to leaning onto him in less than a second. How is that even possible?
"I… can't… hear… you"
Wait? What? No!
Foggy hugs him tighter, rubbing his back and running his fingers into his hair, trying to sooth him. That's not happening, definitely not. Matt is not going to be deaf.
Matt needs his ears more than anyone else.
Don't panic.
He has to stay calm. Matt is scared. No, scared doesn't cover it at all. Matt is terrified, and is up to Foggy help him to calm down and guide him into meditation or whatever he needs, and that includes also calling an ambulance if his hearing doesn't come back in… what's a reasonable time to recover? 6 hours? 12 hours? A whole day?
He has no fucking idea, but he hasn't the time to think about a deadline right now. He has to find a way to communicate with him without using his words.
Think, Foggy. Think.
How is he supposed to think clearly with his best friend shaking and sobbing onto his shoulder? He lets his gaze run through the house, looking for anything that could help him helping Matt.
There! Matt's braille printer!
He stands up and makes a step to go and get it, but Matt's grip tightens around his shirt and jacket.
"Foggy…" it sounds like a desperate plea, and his open wide scared eyes don't help, either.
"I'm not leaving, Matt. I promise. I'm getting your braille printer so we can com… oh, fuck off. You can't hear me!"
He lets himself going back down on his knees and guides Matt's hands back on his shoulders. Matt leans onto him, his left ear pressed again the left side of his chest, where his heart is. He has always considered Matt's ability to hear it disturbing and intrusive, but now he sees Matt needs it as well as Foggy needs to see a face to recognize someone. He has never thought about it in those terms before.
Foggy is not going. Foggy is here, even if he can barely feel him. He presses his ear to his chest, desperate for something that isn't just blackness and silence.
His skin registers the vibrations caused by the pounding of Foggy's heart, but no beat comes with it. Then he remembers Foggy doesn't like when he listens to it and forces himself to back off. He doesn't want him to leave like a minute before.
He doesn't want to be alone.
Foggy's reaction surprises him: he hugs him back to his chest and presses Matt's head back against his heart, and Matt wants to cry even harder because that gesture says everything to him.
Breathe. Stop panicking. Help yourself.
Stick's voice in his head is right. Foggy can't help him if he doesn't calm down, if Matt doesn't let him find a way to communicate speak to him. Foggy is still speaking to him, but sound waves have no meaning to him.
Matt takes a deep, shaking, breath and he doesn't choke this time. Air fills his lungs. He lets it go and starts again. It's easier now that he is not alone.
Foggy's fingers are moving on his arm. They are forming something. Letters? Matt focuses.
B-R-A-I-L-L-E P-R-I-N-T… Yes! That's brilliant, and Matt thinks he might also kiss Foggy right now for thinking about that. Where has he left it, though? Right. The shelf where he puts his laptop and everything he needs for his day job.
"Yes! Yes, Foggy. Please…"
More writing on his arm. He pays attention.
GOTTA LEAVE YOU.
No. No. No.
CALM DOWN. BREATHE.
"Fog…"
A hand rubs his back, another one finds his face and hair. They are soothing. Matt breaths, because if he can breathe Foggy doesn't have to leave. More words coming from Foggy. Matt tries, but it's only humid air without meaning "Foggy… can't… hear you. Sorry. I'm so sorry… "
The hand moves from his hair to his arm.
TAKING YOUR BRAILLE. BRB.
There's a pause. Matt doesn't dare to move, he doesn't want Foggy to leave.
NOT LEAVING. PROMISE.
Matt nods. Foggy is right, he is being stupid.
COUCH?
What? Oh, yeah. They are still on the floor.
"Help me?"
YES.
Foggy shifts from his position and takes his hand as he gets up. Another shift and Foggy grabs him, pulling him upright. He half drags half guides him to his couch, where he helps Matt to lay on it. Matt closes his eyes.
GETTING THE PRINTER.
The contact disappears and Matt starts shaking. "Foggy!" He calls.
Foggy's heart breaks, but he can't go back to him without the braille printer. It's just a matter of seconds, and Foggy actually runs to make it as fast as he can.
When he is back, Matt is on the verge of tears again.
Foggy takes his hand immediately.
"I'm here, Matt. I'm here!"
Matt relaxes and opens his eyes. Foggy types quickly on the printer, then put the paper strip under his fingertips.
Matt smiles, and Foggy decides he would probably survive this day without an heart attack, maybe.
"Hi, Foggy…"
WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU HURT?
"No. It's… the noise. I think. The shot. Messed up with my senses. Can you hear me well? Am I screaming? Whispering?"
IT'S OKAY. YOU ARE DOING GREAT. I'M HERE. BREATHE.
And Matt does as he say. He doesn't leave his hand, but he seems less freaked out than before. He is still breathing fast, almost panting, and every now and then his grips on his hand tightens, but things seem to be better. Foggy takes his napkin out of his pocket and uses it to dry Matt's forehead, covered in sweat. Matt flinches, but he doesn't fight him.
Foggy takes the printer.
WATER?
Matt moistens his lips the way he does when he is thirsty, then shakes his head.
"Don't leave me, please"
NOT GOING ANYWHERE, BUDDY.
Matt reaches his other hand, desperately grabbing tentatively the air until his fingers meet a tail of his jacket. He clenches his fist around the fabric and pulls Foggy toward him with all his strength. Foggy screams as he loses his balance and falls on the couch beside Matt, stretching out his arms to soften his fall and not to hurt him.
"What happened? Foggy?"
"Can you hear me?"
No answer. Ok. No hearing.
YOU ARE STRONG, MAN.
"Sorry. Oh my God. Are you hurt?"
JUST MY PRIDE.
Matt laughs.
"Are you telling the truth?"
NOPE. I'M BLEEDING OUT AND I'LL PROBABLY DIE, BUT I CAN'T MISS THE CHANCE TO LIE TO YOU.
Another laugh.
"My nose is still working. You are not bleeding. You smell like coffee"
YOU KNOW I HAVE MORE COFFEE THAN BLOOD IN MY VEINS. I'M BLEEDING OUT AND MY BLOOD SMELLS LIKE COFFEE. YOU KNOW IT'S TOTALLY POSSIBILE.
"Thanks, Foggy"
Foggy taps Matt's forearm.
ANY TIME, PAL. ANY TIME.
Eventually, Matt lets him get up, so he can bring him some water and make sandwich for both of them. Matt drinks and eats, and after that Foggy persuades him to read something for him. He looks for Matt's books, but the only thing he can find it's a braille edition of 'The green mile' by Stephen King. It's not exactly what he had in mind, but it works enough.
Eventually, Matt falls asleep on the couch, still holding his hand and Foggy manages to find a quite comfortable position on the carpet and closes his eyes.
He's sure he will regret this in the morning, but he doesn't care. There's no way he would leave Matt alone tonight.
Foggy's snore wakes him up. There's heat coming from the window, and it is warming his arm and face.
Wait.
Foggy is snoring. And he can hear it. And his neighbours having morning sex before waking the kids up for school. And the horns ringing in the streets. Drivers shouting at each other in the traffic... Foggy's snoring. Matt expands his senses. There it is. Foggy's heart. It sounds far away, but he can hear it.
He can hear everything.
He laughs, and then starts crying in relief, while the world on fire comes back shape by shape.
Foggy's breath changes, he's waking up.
"Matt?" He calls, and his voice is the most beautiful thing in the world.
"F… Foggy!"
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes… Yes, Fog…" and then Foggy's all around him. Hir arms hug him tight, and Matt finds himself into his shoulder, his ear pressed onto Foggy's chest, listening to his excited heartbeat. He is happy, Matt can hear it, but there's also fear coming from his best friend, and Matt can't really blame him.
Two days ago he had to pick him up on a rooftop with a bullet in his head, and now this.
That must be one of Foggy's personal hell scenario. "I'm sorry, Foggy. I'm sorry"
"Shut up, you idiot. I'm just glad you are okay"
Yes, he will be okay.
They will be okay.