A/N: This one is a bit longer than usual, but I think we're getting somewhere. Maybe? Thanks for reading - I can see that you do, and I promise that it helps to move things along.

Chapter 8

Foggy didn't show his face the next day or the one after that. Karen dropped by on Friday evening bearing pizza, but Foggy wasn't with her. She had to admit that Matt looked better. The bruises on his face had faded, and he evidently had found his razor at some point during the week – not today, but sometime. He was alone in the living room practicing with the crutches when she arrived.

"Hey, Matt," she greeted. "That looks pretty good."

He sidestepped a rogue kitchen chair in the middle of the floor. "Except I'm not supposed to be able to see where I'm going, which will be a distinct disadvantage outside of this loft."

Karen deposited the pizza behind him on the table. "Still. That seems like it might be a little easier to maneuver than the chair, especially in your office."

He hopped into the living room and dropped into an armchair. "Yeah. It's pretty small. Pizza smells good."

"I thought Liz should get the night off from cooking."

"There's not so much cooking. But there is a lot of cereal. And kale."

Karen's face twisted into a disgusted scowl. "I hope not at the same time."

Matt grinned. "No."

"I have some documents you need to sign." She dug in her bag and retrieved the papers and a signature guide. She conducted a quick search for a something for him to write on.

He leaned toward the coffee table. "Maybe over here?"

"You don't have any books."

"The Braille ones are so big. I tend to stick to audio files for pleasure reading."

"Here," she pushed the papers toward him and placed the pen in his hand. His fingers found the plastic card where Karen had secured it.

"Is he coming by?" Matt asked as he signed his name on the contracts.

"He didn't know if he should."

Matt tightened his grip on the pen before releasing it and setting it on the table in front of him. He slid the papers back toward her. "I don't want to fight with him, Karen."

"I know. That's why he's stayed away for a few days."

"Is he okay?"

She nodded. "He started to call you about three times last night. And he was halfway here yesterday after work before he realized what he was doing and turned around to head home. And when he is there, he's like a caged animal, pacing and mumbling. He's okay, but he misses you."

Matt hung his head. "I'm a horrible patient. It's not that I don't appreciate his concern; I just don't like needing it."

"I know, and he does, too," assured Karen.

"I almost called him twice today." Matt sighed. "I should call him."

"He's going out with some guys from his old neighborhood tonight. I nearly had to beg him to go, but he is."

Matt voiced his agreement. "I'm glad he's getting out. Just because I'm basically a prisoner doesn't mean he has to be."

"He really doesn't have any other friends."

"Neither do I," Matt pointed out.

"I know. One of you is as bad as the other."

"He should come by tomorrow." Matt picked up a crutch. "I can show him my skills."

Karen crossed to the coffee table and retrieved the papers. She kissed Matt's cheek before she stood. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks for the pizza."

"Oh shoot. It's getting cold. Let me get you a slice." She grabbed a plate and a couple of pieces. "Where's Liz?"

"She had to run a few errands. She went to her place and is stopping at the gym on the way back. I think she's starting to feel a little cooped up, too."

"You like her."

"She's made all this less disastrous, somehow," Matt offered with a grin.

"That's good."

"It could have been a lot worse."

Karen made another face. "Yeah. Foggy could have had to help you in the shower."

Matt opened his mouth, but several moments passed before he recovered his faculties. "I think I would have just taken a dip in the river if that had been the case."

Karen patted his arm. "Think you'll make it in on Monday?"

Matt nodded. "Thus the crutches."

"Don't break your neck." She crossed the room in the direction of the front door.

"You sound like Foggy."

"I know." Karen stopped at the edge of the living room. "I'll tell him you said hello."

Matt picked up a slice of pizza. "Thanks Karen."

Once he finished eating, he balanced precariously with the plate and the crutches and covered the 20 feet or so leading to the kitchen. He was standing over the sink not washing the plate when Liz returned.

She traversed the living room, coming to a stop by the kitchen table. "Pizza? Are you trying to completely undo my gymming?"

He laughed. "I don't think that's a word."

"I don't either. But I will take some of this."

"Plates are over there." Matt pointed to the shelf to his left. "I don't think I can move right now."

Liz ran her hand down his arm. "Should you sit?"

He considered this for a moment, answering affirmatively with a curt nod. "Maybe."

She bit her bottom lip as she looked him over. "You think you'll be ready by Monday?"

"How bad is my face? Will I scare off potential clients? Or actual clients?"

Liz's finger traced the prickly edge of his jaw. "It's not too bad. Kind of rugged."

Matt managed a sarcastic smirk. "Because I do so much hiking and wood chopping." He swayed slightly, grabbing the counter to stop himself from falling.

Liz placed a stabilizing hand on his arm. "I'm starving, and you're listing like the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"Yeah. I felt a little short of vertical there."

Liz gripped the waistband at the back of his pants. "Make appropriate use of those crutches and I'll spot you from back here." Matt hobbled back across the floor, tripping forward as one of the sticks hit Liz's duffel bag. He barely avoided a total wipeout as her hands pulled him back upright. "Shit. I'm sorry. Did you not see that?"

"Um, no." He blinked a couple of times. "I actually am blind, Liz."

"But not completely. Right?" She sounded unsure.

He could understand how she'd become baffled by his abilities or lack thereof. "I can't drive or read print or distinguish faces or anything like that. Outlines of objects I can usually make out, but it requires concentration to filter everything else. A lot of concentration. If I'm tired or intoxicated or sick, I might as well be completely blind."

"But how do you do what you do?" She'd been dying to investigate further although she really hadn't planned to do it like this.

"It's hard to explain. It's completely different when I'm in that mindset, but that's just not practical for everyday life. So yes, I can still trip over errant furniture and bags." They'd arrived at the couch by now. Matt fell back onto the cushions.

"I guess I didn't understand."

"How could you," he commiserated. "It's very confusing."

She headed back to the kitchen to retrieve her food. "Do you want any more pizza?" Matt nodded. "And something to drink?"

"A beer?" He suggested, not quite remembering if there were any left.

"You rebel."

He shrugged. "It's Friday night."

She pulled two from the fridge. "I'll join you. It will make us both look a little more socially acceptable."

"Yeah. Good plan." Liz took a seat beside Matt, placing a bottle in front of him. "How often do you go, um, gymming?"

"Oh, shit!" Liz gasped. "I took a shower there. I used their soap and shampoo. It smells horrible, doesn't it?"

"It is a little, um, pungent," he confessed.

She jumped up. "I can shower again."

He reached toward her. "I'll be okay."

She was hungry, and a second shower right now would not be ideal. "You sure?"

"Definitely." He patted the seat beside him. "Finish your pizza." She sat, and they ate in silence for a while before Matt spoke again. "Karen brought this."

"With Foggy?"

Matt shook his head. "He's out with friends."

"He has other friends?" Liz sounded a little shocked at that revelation.

"I've known him for less than 10 years. He must have talked to someone before that."

"That's not necessarily true."

Matt's face relaxed into a mischievous smirk. "His social skills were remarkably well-developed when I met him. Somebody had already lain the groundwork. But perhaps that could be chalked up to his Dungeons and Dragons pals."

Liz chuckled as she rubbed Matt's arm. "You seem a little more energized tonight."

"I feel pretty good," he agreed. "But I took it easy today."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but it makes me a little concerned about Monday. I don't know if I can manage a full day." He kicked a crutch with his right foot. "Especially with these."

"Maybe start with half days and work up?"

He pondered that. "That's a possibility."

She cleared their plates. "I brought my laptop if you want to watch a movie or a show or something." She paused. "Except how does that work, exactly?"

"Foggy narrates. He's a fan of Tarantino. And Pixar."

"I can see that."

"I prefer the Coens, myself."

"Completely understandable. Although the visual of Javier Bardem's haircut in 'No Country for Old Men' has to be considered an essential part of the film's overall experience." She finished in the kitchen. "I'm going to see to that shower now." Matt levered himself into a standing position. He only wavered slightly. "You good?" she asked as he worked out his balance.

"Yeah. I'm just going to the bedroom."

Matt settled on the bed while Liz made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She was standing under the spray when she heard him open the door. She pulled open the back side of the curtain to see what he was doing. He leaned against the sink wearing only boxer briefs.

"Matt?" He seemed fine. Check that - he was fine.

He ducked his head in a self-deprecating gesture. "Can I join you?"

"To save water?" she teased.

Matt lifted his chin and rolled his eyes. "Not exactly what I was thinking about."

"No. I'd imagine not." She stepped over the ledge of the tub. She reached out and touched his hand before hers slid to the waistband of his underwear. "You'll need to lose these, though."

He pulled her close to him with his free arm. "I might need a little help in that department. I haven't quite mastered one-legged standing dressing and undressing just yet."

"Okay," she shivered.

"You're cold." He wrapped his arms around her. "And we're wasting water."

"Can you stand in the shower?"

"I might need some assistance with that, too."

Instead of answering with words, she tugged at his shorts. He leaned back against the sink as she untangled them from his feet. He unsuccessfully attempted to stifle a groan of pain. She looked up at him. "You okay?"

His left foot still ached at baseline. The tugging of the underwear didn't improve that any. He gritted his teeth but managed a clipped "Yeah." She helped him move to the edge of the tub before she climbed across him. She took his hand in hers, and he stood, their chests pressed together as she helped him ease back against the shower wall. He gingerly placed his injured foot on the ledge of the tub. She kept a hand on his arm.

"You don't look very comfortable," she mused.

"This idea was more successful in theory than in practice."

"Do you want to sit on the tub, or in it?"

"And let your cast-off water rain down on me? Um, no."

She reached onto her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his neck. "I have to be honest with you, Matt. I am looking this time."

His hands migrated from her shoulders down the front of her, exploring gently. He managed a contented sigh. "So am I."

Following the previous weekend's hubbub, Foggy took it upon himself to make a copy of Matt's keys. They'd never technically done the exchange thing, but this incident had trumped all of Matt's previous rebuffs of such a suggestion. Once Foggy opened the door, he realized acutely why Matt held on to that scrap of privacy. Liz wasn't on the couch, but her bag still occupied a place on the living room floor. And she was making coffee, wrapped haphazardly in Matt's light blue button-down. Typical.

"Hey Foggy."

"Liz. Sorry. I should have called."

"He's awake."

"I thought you might need a break or that he might want to get out of here for a while. But I'm just going to go." He took a couple of steps backward. "I should have called."

"Foggy!" Matt called from the bedroom. "I can't chase after you, so you're gonna have to come in here."

He looked over toward Liz, eyebrows raised. She shrugged before she shooed him in Matt's direction with the wave of her hand.

"Hey, buddy," Foggy tried as he stepped into the bedroom.

"When did you make a key?"

"While you were in the operating room. You know, a couple hours after you collapsed on the roof bleeding and unable to move?"

"Yeah. Okay." Matt guessed Foggy having a key to his apartment wasn't totally unreasonable.

"But I should only use it if you don't answer the phone."

"That might be best," Matt agreed.

Foggy's voice took on a more serious note. "So, do we need to talk about this?"

"No."

"Can we talk about this?" Foggy sounded more hopeful than concerned.

Matt laughed at his friend's insinuation. "No!"

"Just be careful, okay?" Foggy realized he might as well be talking to the wall once they'd broached this subject.

"I know what I'm doing."

Foggy nodded with a sarcastic jab. "Yep. Just like always."

"Foggy."

"Sorry. Just calling it like I see it." He crossed the room and retrieved a pair of boxers from Matt's drawer and threw them on the bed. "But put these on. Talking to you when you're naked is a little creepy when you're not three-fourths dead."

"Yeah. Okay. But turn around while I do, or better yet, go get some coffee," Matt suggested.

"She's not much more dressed than you," Foggy pointed out.

"Well, maybe give us a minute? Grab some pastries around the corner or something?"

"And you're gonna eat a pastry?" Matt's chiseled abs suggested otherwise.

"No, but you will. And Liz probably will, too. Go wait in line for a cronut or whatever it is people are queuing for these days."

Foggy scoffed. "I'm not going all the way down there."

"Would you just get out of here for like half an hour so we can get things situated?" Matt begged.

"Oh, right. Yeah."

But Foggy didn't move. Matt prompted him again. "See you in a little bit."

"Yeah. Yeah! I'm going." He didn't look toward the kitchen as he made a beeline for the door. "Bye Liz." Then he was gone.

Liz rejoined Matt with a couple of mugs a minute or two later. "Seems like we've got a lot of splaining to do, Lucy." She handed one over to him.

"Jesus." Matt gulped his too hot coffee as soon as the cup was in his hands. "What possessed him to make a key and come in here like that?"

"I'm assuming that question was rhetorical." She'd only known these folks for about a week, but it did seem that Matt really could answer his own inquiry.

Matt shook his head and handed his mug back to her. "Not exactly how I planned this."

"This was planned?" She placed both their cups on the night stand as she turned toward him.

"No." He pulled her closer to him. "But I generally try to be a little smoother than all this."

"I have no doubt about that," she murmured into his chest.

"Are you sure about this, Liz?"

Her fingers grazed his chest. "I'm a big girl, Matt."

"Foggy says I use the 'wounded duck' thing to my advantage," he admitted.

"You'd be kind of stupid not to."

He swallowed hard. "But I don't want this to be about that." Was this about that? He hoped to God not.

"Honestly Matt, I don't know what this is, but I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of the appeal." She blew that all out in one breath, holding off from taking another before he spoke in response.

The one word he managed came out in a strangled whisper. "Seriously?"

"I'm an ER doctor," she explained meekly. "I'm weirdly drawn to drama and tragedy."

He dropped his arms from around her shoulders. "Oh."

She wasn't sure if she should backtrack or push forward. "I'm not saying that's what's happening here, but I understand Foggy's point."

Matt scooted toward the far edge of the bed. "Could you hand me the crutches? If that's not too provocative for you," he bit.

"Matt." She touched his arm but he shook her off.

He felt his sails deflating. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while."

"Are you…" she stopped. "Can you…"

"I'll be fine," he finished for her. "And Foggy will be back in like 20 minutes."

"Matt," she tried again.

He didn't mince any words. "I really need you to go, Liz."

His comeback smacked her squarely across the face. She physically recoiled back on the bed, away from him. "Sure. Yeah." She did not want to leave him in this manner, but she had a feeling that staying right now would accomplish nothing.

"I just need some time to clear my head." He retreated from the finality of his previous statement, offering a possibility that they could work through this later.

"Yeah, no. I understand." She kissed his mouth as she stood. He didn't reciprocate, biting his lips together in protest of any reaction his body might have to hers in such close proximity. Liz sighed with eyes closed for a moment before she walked away from him. She deposited his shirt on the chair before grabbing her own things from the living room floor and shimmying into some sweats and a jacket on the top of her bag.

Matt tried to block out the pounding of her racing heartbeat as she stood in front of him in the bedroom and then as she scooped her things and basically ran from his place. He listened as she galloped down the steps and into the street before he collapsed back on the bed, working at slowing his own pulse as he did so. He hadn't intended to be such an ass. But he also hadn't expected her to admit that she was attracted to his vulnerabilities. He fucking hated that.

And now Foggy would be back in about 15 minutes towing a truckload of questions behind him. Matt grabbed the crutches and teetered down the hall toward the bathroom. He planned to be in the shower longer than 15 minutes. But what the hell did that matter now? Foggy had his own key.

TBC