A/N - This chapter was supposed to be longer. I mean, it's already pretty long as it it, but there's this bit at the end that's still incomplete and I was going to post the whole thing together. Thing is, I don't know how much writing I'm going to be able to do over the next few weeks. My brother died suddenly yesterday and I've spent the past two days co-ordinating with people I mostly don't know to get the information out to his network of friends that I mostly don't know while my mum flies back home from Croatia, and it has been pretty fucking awful and right now I'm just a wreck. To be honest I feel a bit bad posting this now, but he always encouraged me to follow my heart, and writing is that. I will try to continue the story as soon as I can, and you might not even notice any slow down in posting, but I don't know how I'm going to be over the next few weeks, I don't know how much or how little I'm going to feel like writing. Bear with me.

Foggy answered the door in blue jeans and a sweater, no shoes, just black socks. The bandages that had covered his eyes the last time she saw him were gone, and in their place were a large pair of dark glasses. On his chin he sported the beginnings of a patchy beard.

"Hey," she said. "Just me."

Foggy smiled when he heard her voice. "Karen, have you been avoiding me?" He stepped backward to allow her entry into the apartment. "I wouldn't blame you after the pathetic display I put on last time, to be honest, but I thought I redeemed myself later."

Karen winced at the memory of Foggy's anguish on her last visit. She had understood completely, and it had not kept her away. She hoped that he was joking. She stepped forward, placed a hand on each of his arms as a warning, then embraced him quickly. "Of course not. But I didn't want to just keep turning up like I thought you needed looking after."

"Hmm," Foggy mused. "I'm sensing Matt's hand in that somewhere." He closed the door behind her and walked back into the apartment. Karen followed behind him.

"Yeah, he might have said something," she told him. "But he was probably right. I'd have been over here every time he was at the office or in court. I'd probably have driven you crazy."

Foggy grinned. "Are you kidding? I love hanging out with you, you know that. I mean, Matt's great, but when we get drunk together we've never braided each other's hair like we did that one time."

Karen laughed at the image. "I'm sure that's just because his hair's too short."

"You're probably right, because you're always right, and that is why you are awesome," Foggy said. "I'd offer to get drunk now, but it's probably too early, plus I have exactly two beers in the refrigerator, so coffee?"

She smiled. "Sure." She could hardly believe how much better he seemed. He walked around with so much more confidence, he was smiling, there was no hint of the tears she had seen on her last visit. It was good to see, encouraging. She wondered whether he had had some good news or a surprise improvement. She didn't ask, just in case. "I thought you hated my coffee though," she said.

Foggy waved her off with a shake of his head. "I do, it's disgusting. No offense. I'm going to make it."

She followed him into the kitchen and watched intently as he worked carefully, apparently entirely by touch. It was obvious from the way he searched for the things he needed with his fingers rather than his eyes that he still wasn't seeing much at all. She bit her lip and tried not to stare.

"So, you've obviously learned a thing or two the last few days," she said.

He didn't reply, all his concentration on the task at hand. He turned to her as he waited for the coffee to brew. "Yeah, I've learned a few things," he said. "How to make coffee, how to chase food around a plate with a fork and keep some of it off the table. A few months and I'll have a few of the skills of the average six year old. Well, a six year old that can make coffee." He sighed appeared to chase away the mood. When he smiled again it looked completely genuine. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm picking up a few skills. It's good."

Karen tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You okay?" she asked.

He shrugged. "As well as you'd expect," he told her.

In fact, he seemed so much better than she had expected. "You're doing amazing," she said.

"Says you." He sighed, then turned around so that he was facing away from her. "I had a lesson this morning," he said. "Uh, you know… blindness 101…"

Karen frowned, unsure for a moment exactly what he meant. "What?" she blurted.

Still facing away from her, not doing anything, just as though he didn't want her to see his face. "Orientation and mobility, they call it. This woman came round and started to teach me stuff. You know, stuff I'm going to need, to…"

"Right," Karen said. She got it now. She wished Foggy would turn around so that she could see him and get a better idea of how he was coping with that particular development.

"It wasn't that bad," he said. "I mean, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't exactly that. Is this done?" He indicated the pot with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah, I think so."

Karen bit her lip as she watched him open a drawer, reach inside and search around for a few seconds before pulling out a small device, a plastic box attached to two metal hooks. He slipped the hooks over the edge of a coffee mug and carefully began to pour the hot liquid. He poured slowly, the spout of the coffee pot touching the edge of the cup to ensure the coffee was actually going where he wanted it to. When the coffee hit the two prongs of the device that were inside the cup, it began to make a sound. Foggy stopped, took the device off the cup and slid it in her direction.

Karen grinned. "That's pretty cool. Did the teacher show you that?"

Foggy shook his head. "No, she doesn't do this stuff. That was all about not bumping into things. This is all Matt, he says he's not a teacher, but he's not as bad at it as he thinks."

Karen took a sip of the coffee and watched as Foggy poured a second cup, added a careful dribble of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar.

"Oh," she said. "How come I've never seen Matt using one of these?"

Foggy shrugged. Super hearing, probably. "I guess maybe he's being doing it long enough that he knows how long he needs to pour for, or… I don't know. How often have you heard him offer to make a drink?"

"Good point." Karen smiled. "You want me to carry yours over to the couch?"

Foggy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, that'd be good, thanks."

"So," Karen picked up the other cup and walked through into the main part of the apartment. She placed both cups on the coffee table and sat down. Foggy followed her only a little more slowly. Again, she couldn't help but notice the lack of the hesitancy in his steps that had been there the last time she had seen him. "By 'not bumping into things' do you mean you were using a cane?"

Foggy didn't answer instantly. He grimaced, then shrugged. "Yeah."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

Karen took a sip of her coffee, and she didn't know what it was that Foggy did differently to her, but he was right, his was better. "So, what's that like?"

"Nerve wracking." He laughed nervously. "And not as easy as Matt makes it look. I mean, he used to let me have a go in college sometimes when we were drunk or whatever, but guess what? It's nothing like the same as that. At all. Plus, I have my own one now, which is incredibly weird."

As Foggy spoke, he rubbed his right hand with his left and flexed his fingers.

"I'm under instructions to practice all the time. It kinda hurt my wrist, she kept adjusting the way I was holding it. Apparently my technique sucks, but she says that's normal at first."

"So," Karen took another sip of her coffee and put the cup down. She took a deep breath and licked her lips. "So, if you're learning this stuff, does that mean…" she allowed the words to tail off, finding herself not quite able to finish the question.

Foggy shook his head. "It doesn't mean anything." He sighed. "Or maybe it does… I still don't know what's going to happen. It just seems…" he stopped. His bottom lip slipped between his teeth and he bit down hard on it. Karen held her breath and prayed that he wouldn't cry again. She didn't want to be the one that did that to him.

"It's okay," she said. "If you don't want to talk about it."

"It seems sensible to plan for the worst. It doesn't mean it won't get better. It just means… I guess it just means… I guess I'm working on the assumption that…"

Karen reached across and touched him lightly on his shoulder. He flinched, just slightly, at the unexpected contact and she drew back. "That you're not going to be able to see again," she finished for him.

Foggy's lips twitched into an approximation of a smile. It was forced, she could tell even with the dark glasses obscuring his eyes. She had never seen him fake a smile before. She had never seen him fake anything; Foggy Nelson was the most genuine person she knew. That he felt he had to pretend in front of her hurt. She squashed the feeling down, she'd probably be doing the exact same thing, and her feelings were not the most important thing happening here. Not by a long shot.

"Sorry," he said. He had been saying that a lot recently. Too much. "I'm trying. I'm really trying."

"So you still don't know," she said. "They still haven't told you. Jesus." That seemed like the cruelest thing about it, the uncertainty, the inability to know, one way or another. Even if it was bad news, if he could know then he could deal with it properly, move on, start accepting. As it was he was trapped in the middle, not daring to believe he was going to get better in case he didn't but still with hope that he would, hope that would be shattered if he got bad news.

"They've given me the odds," he said. "They're in my favor. Barely. The thing is, as much as I know learning all this stuff is the right thing to do, if I actually let myself believe for more than a few seconds that this is permanent, I'm going to find myself curled up in the fetal position crying, and I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to get up again."

Karen had no idea what to say to that. She reached out to touch him again, hesitated remembering his flinch then did it anyway. He didn't flinch this time. He barely reacted at all. He leaned forward, stress etched onto his face.

"Foggy…"

"Shit. Sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. Imply my best friends life is so awful it'd send me into a spiraling depression, I didn't mean it like that. Yep, foot in mouth Nelson strikes again. Ignore me. If it's, you know, permanent, I'll deal. Eventually. It'd take a while, a really long while, but, yeah."

Karen chewed hard on her bottom lip, teasing at a piece of skin, trying frantically to think of something to say.

"Don't repeat that to Matt, he won't take offense, even though he should, he'll just worry and he's got enough going on right now."

"I won't," she promised.

He smiled again. It looked almost genuine this time. It wasn't, but it could have passed with someone who didn't know him as well as she did. "Thanks. I'm okay, really. I know it doesn't look like it, but I am. I will be."

Karen edged closer until the side of her body touched his. He relaxed into the contact, leaned against her slightly.

"I guess, at least you're not totally blind, right? I mean, you can see colors and shapes and stuff, right. I know it probably doesn't feel very useful right now, but you can see something. Not like Matt?"

Foggy smiled. It looked strange, like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. Karen instantly regretted her words but wasn't sure why.

"No, not like Matt," Foggy told her. "Nothing at all like him. Hey, do me a favor?"

"Sure," Karen told him.

"Be honest. On a scale of zero to Matt, how terrible do these hospital issue glasses look?"

Karen chewed her lip, caught between a flattering exaggeration and the truth. She opted for the truth. "Well, not great? I'd say a three. I can buy you some new ones if you like? I bet we could even get away with writing it off as a business expense."

He shook his head. "I have sunglasses. I'm not saying I look any better in them than I do in these, but I have them. These ones are better, apparently. Let less light through."

"Yeah, they are dark," Karen told him. "You can't see your eyes through them at all."

"That's probably for the best," Foggy said. "I don't imagine they look great either."

Probably not, but she couldn't help being curious. "Want me to look at them for you, too?"

He shook his head quickly. "I don't… Maybe another time when it's less bright. The light sensitivity is fading, but not quickly enough for my liking."

"Has Matt told you he's investigating the bombing?" Karen asked.

Foggy paused with his drink half way to his lips, turned to face her, then away again almost as quickly. "What?" he asked.

"He says he isn't, but he totally is. I was wondering whether he's told you anything about it, because I could use any information for my own investigation. Especially since he took everything I had to the cops."

"Uh…" Foggy said. "What's going on, did I slip into an alternate universe or something?"

"No, listen, the coffee guy, Macintyre, did he ever talk to you about his family? Maybe mention he son? He's nineteen, same name as his dad."

Foggy shook his head. "I bought coffee from him, I mean, I knew him to say hello, talk about the weather or whatever, but we never got into family stuff. Why?"

"Because I know the cops say Macintyre Senior didn't do it, but I'm wondering whether they've looked into Junior. He's bad news."

Foggy leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning two possession arrests, a lot of photos on Facebook of him with some people I know for a fact are dealers, and a couple of weird cryptic messages for anyone to read on his timeline that I think sound kinda threatening. I thought maybe he planted the bomb so his dad's insurance could pay off his drug debts, but Matt seems to think there's an old man involved somehow."

"Wait." Foggy waved a hand in the air as though to silence her and erase some of the words. "Wait. Karen, how do you know these guys are dealers?"

Karen smiled. The sudden panic and concern in his voice was quite touching. "Relax," she told him. "I'm not a customer. I remember their pictures from the paper one time, I just have a good memory for things like that." She laughed. "I promise I'm not using drugs."

"Okay," Foggy said. He didn't look entirely happy. "Well, being arrested for possession and hanging out with dealers doesn't make the kid a dealer himself with a huge debt to pay to some underworld mobster. It just makes him stupid."

"I know," Karen said. "That's why I need to keep looking into it…" she broke off at the sound of a knock on the door.

"Me," Matt announced.

Foggy sighed, leaned his head back against the top of the sofa as though he were shouting up at the ceiling. "I gave you that key for a reason, Murdock. I can't be bothered getting up right now."

A few seconds delay while Matt presumably got out and used the key, and the door opened. Matt stepped through and rested his cane by the door. "Hey Karen, I didn't expect you here."

She opened her mouth, surprised at being noticed, then closed it again. "Nothing to do at the office," she said. She turned to Foggy, "Do they teach you how to do that in these lessons you were telling me about?"

He smiled and shook his head and Karen watched, fascinated as his whole demeanor seemed to shift somehow as Matt walked into the room. She wondered whether the way he appeared to relax was genuine. She suspected it wasn't. She wondered whether Matt realized.

"Nah, that's his beautiful woman radar," Foggy explained. "You know the one that helps him ID the most gorgeous woman in any room and latch onto her with the wounded puppy act? It's related to that somehow, I just can't figure it out yet. As soon as I do, there'll be no stopping me."

"Actually, I just recognized your perfume," Matt told her. He smiled.

Karen rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. It was obvious now she thought about it. "Right."

"Maybe you should wear something different just to confuse him." Foggy suggested. "That's what I'd do, now you know his secret."

"That's because you're a horrible person, Foggy," Matt told him.

Foggy grinned. "You love me really. There's still coffee in the pot if you want any, buddy."

Matt walked through to the kitchen and poured himself a cup. Karen watched the exchange, a little bemused. It wasn't that different to their usual exchanges, but there was something else there this time. "What was that all about?"

Foggy shrugged. "Dorm room mentality. We haven't spent this much time together since law school. Plus, I think I'm going a little stir crazy, I haven't been out of the apartment in days except to go to the hospital and back. I guess we're reverting. Stick around, you'll enjoy the pranks.

"If you're sick of being inside, we can go out." Matt suggested. "It's not like we're snowed under with work right now, I could do with some air."

Foggy shook his head. "FYI, there is some extreme head shaking going on over here," he said. "I like my sofa, I'm comfortable here, and I know where everything is."

"Well," Karen said. She drained the last of her coffee and got to her feet. "As comfortable as it is, I'd better head back to work. Those phones aren't going to answer themselves."

"Yeah they will," Foggy told her. "That's what the answering machines from the mid nineties you got for us are for."

"Still, I want you guys to at least feel like you're paying me for doing a real job, or else you might stop. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

She got to her feet, leaned over and touched Foggy supportively on the arm by way of a see you later, then let herself out.