Chapter 3

They repeated the scene to get Matt in and then out of the cab. Thankfully, by the time they arrived in front of his building the morning rush had ended, and they slipped unnoticed through the back door and into the service elevator that Foggy called with the aforementioned key. The three of them rode in exhausted silence to the top floor. They halted outside of Matt's place while Foggy jangled through his keyring, trying to find the correct one. He finally swung through door, maneuvering the chair down the narrow foyer granting them access to the loft.

Fatigue and the return of searing pain washed over Matt as they entered the bedroom. An agonizing moan escaped his lips as Foggy and Elizabeth transferred him from the chair to the bed. Matt collapsed back onto his sheets without opening his eyes. Elizabeth added a throw pillow for under the casted leg before they retreated into the living room without disturbing him any further. The more Matt slept right now, the better.

"I have to get to the office," Foggy realized as he finally glanced at his watch.

"I'll stay with him," Elizabeth confirmed.

"I have to at least talk to Karen and make some arrangements," he started.

"It's fine. Do what you need to do and then get some sleep."

Foggy couldn't promise all of that. "You need to sleep, too."

"I will. That couch has my name on it." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

Foggy tugged his hands through his unwashed, disheveled hair. "And his blood, probably."

"I'll live."

"And so will he, thanks to you." Foggy balled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Elizabeth moved forward, placing her hand on his arm. "And you. You did a great job stabilizing him, Foggy. It could have been a lot worse if he'd been here alone." She paused. "It would have been a lot worse."

Foggy ducked his head, not sure how to respond to that, how any of this should even be possible. "Karen's already called five times. I have to go."

Elizabeth nodded. "Go. He'll be okay."

"I know. I'll be back soon."

"Foggy. Seriously. We'll be okay."

"Yeah. I know that." He did. He really did, but Matt…needed to sleep. And Foggy really needed to check in with Karen before she showed up at the loft. "Bye," he mumbled as he stumbled back through the front door.

After he left, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the great room sizing up the place with its great lines, exposed beams and high ceilings with the wall of windows facing the billboard on the adjacent building. She found it all oddly appealing. She wandered into the kitchen to see if she'd be able to concoct some sort of nourishement for Matt when he woke. He'd have to eat eventually, so she busied herself with taking inventory of the sparse contents of the cabinets and fridge before she found her way to the couch.

"Foggy?" Matt called from the bedroom when he roused a little over an hour later, startling Elizabeth awake. She rose from her perch on the couch and headed in to check on him.

"He's not here. It's Elizabeth. Claire's friend?" she informed him as she approached the bed. She wasn't sure how much of their previous conversation would have been rendered useless from the Propofol, also known as 'milk of amnesia.'

"This is my bed." He started with what he knew, what he could touch.

"It is."

"My leg hurts." He sounded so small and vulnerable as he uttered those words.

She sat on the bed beside him. "I know. You broke it last night. A surgeon put a pin in it this morning. You've been home for a little over an hour."

Matt groaned. "Ah, fuck. I thought I'd dreamed that." He reached for his left side, finding a dressing there, as well. "That hurts, too."

"I know. I'm sorry." She stood. "Can I get you some water or something else? Ibuprofen, maybe?"

His face relaxed slightly, but then flushed a bright pink beneath the bruises and stubble. "I have to use the bathroom."

She glanced around. They could do the chair transfer thing, but it would take a minute. "Do you need the toilet, or is the urinal okay?"

He didn't take long to make up his mind against moving any more than he really had to. "I can use the urinal."

She pulled the plastic container from the bag she'd filled at the surgery center and handed it to him. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thanks."

He called for her a moment later, and she disposed of things, washing up in his bathroom before she returned to him. He had pushed himself into a sitting position with his back against the headboard, a pillow still under his injured foot.

"Are you comfortable there?" He didn't look very comfortable.

"I'm okay."

"You should sleep longer," she suggested.

He fidgeted against the sheets, twisting them in a white knuckled grip. "The numbing is wearing off."

"I can take the edge off, if you want."

"No." He panted. "I'll try some breathing exercises and mediation first. It might be okay."

"You had hardware drilled into your broken bones less than four hours ago. It might not be okay."

"I'll try it my way first." His mouth formed a hard line. She assumed he was fighting back more pain.

"That's fine. But my way is also available at any time."

"Why are you here?" It came out more annoyed than he'd intended.

"Foggy needed to go to the office, and Claire's out of town."

"Oh."

"Try to relax or whatever. I can make something to eat if you want."

He shook his head. "No, thank you. I just don't think I can yet."

She reached forward and touched the frame of his glasses. "Do you want to take these off, at least?" The metal cutting into the bridge of his nose couldn't be comfortable.

He lifted his hand to cover hers. "I, um, I want to keep them on."

Her fingers slid from beneath his. "Sure. Whatever you need, Matt." She backed toward the door as he focused on his breathing.

"Elizabeth?" She stopped as he turned his face toward where she stood. "Thank you."

"Rest, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll try."

Foggy reappeared around two with replenishment for the first aid kit and a crap ton of pho. "He doesn't have a mom to make him chicken noodle soup or anything like that," Foggy explained as he poured the combination of broth, noodles and beef into three separate bowls. "We just have Mrs. Minh and her pho."

Elizabeth accepted her portion. "He's in a lot of pain."

"He won't take anything for it. I think that contributes to why he's usually such an impatient patient." Foggy shrugged. "But clearly I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

"He'll be up and around in a couple of days," Elizabeth offered.

Foggy's eyes narrowed. "What exactly did Claire tell you about him?"

"Everything she knows, I think. Including why they're no longer, um, involved." She let him digest that. "He'll be able to figure out some way to get around while using the cane without giving too much away about himself."

That was a concern, but a slightly bigger problem weighed more imminently on Foggy. "How soon before he can be back out there?"

"Three months? Maybe two if everything heals well."

That seemed like an eternity to Foggy. Matt would go crazy. "I don't know how he'll manage that, how we'll manage him."

"He'll need distractions, for sure. Because he'll still be able to hear everything that's happening out there, all the reasons he feels he needs to go."

Foggy turned toward her. "He can hear us now, you know?"

"Shoot. Right. That's kind of weird isn't it?"

Foggy shrugged. "It takes getting used to. I'm not sure that I'm there yet." He placed Matt's bowl on a tray. "I'll take this to him." Elizabeth sat to finish her lunch. "You should go when you're done, though. You're tired, and this is my problem."

"I think I've made it mine, too." She revealed. "I'll run home and grab some stuff, and then we can figure out what we're going to need to do. I'm sure he'll want a little alone time at some point, too."

"Yeah. I know," but Foggy wasn't willing to leave him alone just yet. "Maybe in a couple of days."

Matt sat motionless in the bed, his back against the headboard for support. He rustled around a little when Foggy entered. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?"

Matt sighed. "Not so great."

"You wanna try some of this?"

Matt's stomach growled, audible even to Foggy, who raised his eyebrows. Matt managed a weak grin, even though Foggy could see his face was streaked with pain. "I was going to say no, but I guess I could eat something."

Foggy handed over the tray. "It's still pretty hot."

"Okay." It was still a weird dynamic. Foggy had spent his whole life being normal, and Matt had spent the past twenty one years acting normal. Usually they just talked about normal things. It was easier to pretend that everything was normal, even though they both knew it wasn't.

Foggy sat on the edge of the bed. "Karen wants to take a shift after work. I didn't know how to tell her no."

Matt nodded. "It's okay." Karen had figured out mostly everything once the Greek blast from Matt's past arrived on the scene. She'd taken it about as well as Foggy had a few months earlier, but the chill was starting to thaw, especially when Matt gave her a reason to worry about him. He figured today would provide some serious inroads into their relationship. He took a sip of the salty, pungent soup. Cilantro flooded both his olfactory receptors and taste buds. There were worse things, he reckoned. "This is good, Foggy." He couldn't think of any better adjectives right now, either.

Foggy watched Matt slurp down three or four more spoonfuls before he lost steam. Foggy reached to move the tray out of Matt's way before he helped his injured friend scoot back into a mostly supine position.

"Do you want me to stay in here for a while?"

"You're about to drop, Fog."

"It's okay." He placed the tray on the floor before he crossed to the armchair and ottoman at the side of the room, which he assumed had been added for his benefit a few months ago, now that these vigils had become more commonplace.

"It's not okay. None of this is okay." Matt lamented. None of this had been a part of his plan, not that he really had a plan for any of this, but he certainly hadn't expected to involve Foggy and Karen and now Claire's friend. But here they all were.

Foggy dragged the chair a little closer to Matt's bed, but before he settled in, he reached over to tuck the buttery soft sheets around Matt's shoulders. "There isn't anything we can do about it now, though, Matt. I'm gonna try to sleep for a little while. Do you need anything right now?"

Matt shook his head. "No." He started to add "I'm fine," but he couldn't even try to convince himself, much less Foggy, that he was.

TBC