The apartment was dark aside from the light flooding in from the billboard across the street. Foggy quietly moved through the living room looking for his best friend. His heart beat at a million miles per hour. Eyes wide and wild, he saw Matt's cane, one he laughably didn't need; not that Foggy knew. He held it as a weapon, looking around the area for potential danger. The apartment looked as if it were overrun by SWAT looking for contraband, which, to Foggy, added to the creep factor.
"If anyone's in here who's not supposed to be, I will mess you up, I'm not kidding." His voice wavered but he tried his best to hide the sound of his fear. He looked down to see a dark shadow, a silhouette of a man from the window light coming from Matt's room. The man staggered into the room, boots shuffling on the hardwood beneath them. Foggy stood, not a few feet from 'the mask'. He sees the bloodied cuts and torn athletic shirt. The masked man dragged in a painful breath. Though, none of it deterred Foggy's one true concern in that moment. "Where's Matt?" He questioned the mask. No audible answer. "What'd'ju do to 'm?"
Matt's body jerked from side to side before he collapsed onto his living room carpet on his side. He groaned and brought in as much air as he could, ribs most likely protesting their distaste for his earlier hand-to-hand with the ninja. Foggy slowly lowered the cane, seeing that he was no-longer a likely threat. The mask rolled onto his back, breathing heavily.
Foggy stepped forward, slightly, using the cane to prod at the hero. He pressed the bottom end to the man's belt right above his hip bone. No response. Foggy dug through his pockets for his phone, dialing 911 without losing sight of the vigilante. The phone rang three times as Foggy waited, watching the unconscious man breathe. Was he happy the man was still alive? Didn't he shoot those cops and blow up those buildings? Innocent before proven guilty, sure, but he had a hunch about it. Maybe the guy didn't do it but he needed to know something, first.
Foggy ended the call before it was picked up. He slowly lowered himself to a knee, hovering over the mask, taking in all of the damages and the homemade suit. His eyes made their way back to the elephant in the room. His face. He slowly, carefully, lifted the mask, hoping the man would remain asleep. Confusion played across his features as he sees the familiarity. The scruff, the cheekbones, jawline, eyebrows, all of it. He knew this man… "Matt?"
Foggy stared at Matt's vulnerable form, unable to fully process what he thought he was seeing. It couldn't be Matt, right? He's blind! No way a blind guy could do all that flippin' around like the mask was doing on the news! Plus, Matt's a lawyer. He deals with things using the law. None of it was making sense!
He pushed his feelings aside, knowing his best friend needed medical attention asap. He gently took Matt's left arm, pushing his right under the injured hero's back, lifting him up and carrying him as best he could. "Come on, buddy, let's get you to the ER. After that, you explain everything and it'd better be a damn good story because I'm tryin' not to believe this is what you're doing."
:::::::
Matt was so delirious. He could feel movement in his left arm. Wow, that hurt. Every sense screamed at him. The pain was nearly unbearable. With his super-touch, he could feel every molecule of broken skin. He could feel every drop of blood that flowed freely from his open wounds. He could hear those drops when they hit the carpet. He could hear a racing heartbeat. Claire? Had she found him? Or was it an enemy?!
"Come on, buddy, let's get you to the ER. After that, you explain everything and it'd better be a damn good story because I'm tryin' not to believe this is what you're doing." That was Foggy's voice. Oh, crap. Foggy's seeing him in the suit. Things could not possibly go more downhill, right now.
"No." It's all he could get out.
"Not your choice, Matt. Not right now."
He took a swing at Foggy, luckily he was so weak and out of it, he hadn't made contact with anything. He made it clear again, "No."
"You're dying. You need medical attention, man."
Matt stopped walking with his friend, as they were too close to the stairs for Matt's comfort. He could only say one thing. "Claire." He managed to get himself away from Foggy's hold and stumbled to the couch. Before he could get to it, he collapsed on the carpet, curling up into the fetal position, refusing any more movement.
"Dammit, Matt." Foggy ran into the bedroom. Seeing the phone on the nightstand, he found Claire's contact name and pressed on it, impatiently listening to the phone ring. The noise had never made him so angry, before. He just wanted to hear a voice at the other side. He wanted to hear it say 'Everything is alright. Matt will be fine.'
He waited for what seemed like an eternity until he finally heard it. The most beautiful voice. "You hurt or you just wanna talk?" Her sarcastic tone was not very welcome.
"He's hurt."
There was a long pause.
"Who is this?" Her voice was panicked. "What have you done with him?"
"My name is Foggy Nelson, I'm his best friend and firm partner."
"Foggy? He's told me a lot about you." Her voice was more calm.
"He's told me nothing about you."
"Sounds like him. You said he's hurt? I'm guessing it's really bad if he can't call me, himself." Shuffling and jangling keys were heard on her end.
"He's kinda out of it, right now. He's got cuts all over his body and he's breathing really weird and he's curled up in a ball in the middle of the living room."
"He gets like that when he's hurt that bad. His instinct takes over and he tries to protect himself. Trust me, it's nothing personal. He does it with me and I've been patching him up for a while, now. He just needs to ground himself."
"How far away are you?"
"Two blocks down. I'll be there as soon as possible." The two hung up, causing Foggy's heartbeat to slow a little bit. From the looks of it, Matt had the time. The only problem was… He's the vigilante running around the city at night.
::::::
The door nearly shattered into pieces at the speed Claire entered into the apartment. She closed it as quickly as she could, barreling down the stairs towards the man she'd patched up time after time. She rolled him onto his back, forcing him out of the fetal position. "Hey, Matt. You wanna tell me what happened?" He shook his head. "Alright, that's fine. Let's get you on the couch, okay? I need you to sit up so I can stitch your back up."
He did as was told, a routine the two had. His ascent to the cushions was painful, the movement pulling at his wounds. His groans were painful to hear.
"What is all of this, Claire?" Foggy stepped in, standing behind the couch. He winced when Matt hissed at the intruding stitch needle.
"No. No way. This is his secret. His double life. If he wants to talk to you about it, then fine, but it's not my place. Not my secret to tell."
"Please, it's been a lot."
"It was a lot for me, at first, too. You get used to it, somehow. Some parts, though… Look, I'd love to tell you everything from how we first met all the way up until now, but I can't. I may be involved but it just isn't my place."
Foggy sighed, frustrated with the lack of information. Why couldn't she just tell him a little bit? "So I get nothing?"
She allowed a now, shirtless, pantless and bootless Matt to lie on his back. She brought the blanket up to his waist, assessing the damages before she got to work. "Pretty much. Sorry." She stitched him up, almost laughing as he fell asleep. How he could do that was beyond her but, that's how he is.
When she finished, she packed everything up and brought the blanket up to his collarbone. "I can't stay, I have to go to work. But if he takes a turn for the worst, call me and I'll be here. He's not gonna listen but tell him to get lots of sleep and eat some food for once in his life. Maybe even drink a glass of water."
"Yeah. Thank you, Claire."
"I know you're mad at him. I know you're going to continue to be mad at him but just remember that he needs you." She carried her bag with her to the door. "He's just doing what he thinks is right. Aren't we all?"
Foggy nodded, opening the door for her with another thanks before closing it behind her. Maybe she was right but he still had a lot that was running through his mind.
He went back to the living room and sat in the chair, watching him rest. His chest, thankfully, rose in even breaths. The bloodstained bandages and mask suit made him incredibly uncomfortable but, for some reason, he couldn't convince himself to clean it up. He waited for hours upon hours for Matt to wake. It felt like he never would, which, concerned him greatly.
Luckily, morning rolled around and the sun rose. Foggy hadn't gotten much sleep but he ignored how tired he was. Matt should wake up soon and he has a lot he needs to get off his chest and he has a lot of questions that need to be answered. He stood from his seat, going to the fridge for a much-needed beer. Then he heard it.
Matt's groan was breathy, something indicating great amounts of pain. He lay there, beaten, bruised and bloody. His face was less swollen than the night before but it still hurt like a motherf- His lacerations were not fully healed, but thanks to his night-long nearly-a-coma rest, they were coming along quite nicely. His eyes opened wide, wandering around the room. His breathing was heavy, panting against the pain. He slowly brought his arms up to push the blanket down, groaning. "Agh." He pushed it down even further, wincing, mouth wide open. "Oh, God."
His head lolled to the side as he smelled and sensed the bloodied bandages littering the floor next to his makeshift suit. He felt the bandage with his senses, then his hands, lifting the medical tape to get a better understanding of what was under it. He let out an extended groan, placing the bandage back down over the wound Nobu had so graciously given him in their hand-to-hand that lead to a hot ending.
He brought his hand up to the top cushion of the couch, giving himself a moment to prepare for how much it was going to hurt to sit up. Once he felt he was ready, he slowly arched his back, starting to let out another groan before a voice piped up from his kitchen.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you." Matt lay back, lifting his head to get a better advantage for his hypersensitive hearing. Foggy steps around the kitchen counter, carrying his second beer bottle, the fridge door closing behind him. "Then again, maybe I would. The Hell do I know about Matt Murdock?"