The first fic I've managed to get out in 9 years. Testing the waters before unleashing the much longer Daredevil Fic I have in progress that's somehow exceeded 35000 words.
…...
"Yeah Foggy, I called Matt a few minutes ago about the Pitre case and he just didn't sound good," Karen says. "I mean I know its Sunday and all but he should have been able to tell me if he had what he needed for tomorrow but…"
Something niggles at the back to Foggy's mind. He checks the calendar on his phone, sees the date and figures it out pretty quickly.
"Don't worry about it, Karen. I'll go over there and make sure everything's fine. I mean, I'm sure its fine. You don't need to go."
"I don't mind," she offers, sounding like she means it. She probably does.
"No no, its, uh, a thing. I mean not a thing. I'll take care of this. I'll bring the files over, I'm sure everything's fine." Foggy says hurriedly, knowing its not. How did he forget? This has literally happened every single year he's known Matt without fail. He should have known this was coming, made some kind of preparations. At the very least, set a reminder on his phone. The anniversary falling on a Sunday threw him, that's how he justifies it to himself.
"Um okay," Karen says, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Yup. Bright and squirrely!" Foggy says with more enthusiasm than he feels. He disconnects the call before Karen can get another word in. It was only just last Friday he'd told her the bullshit story about Matt's drinking being the excuse for his recent flakiness. That had seemed like a lie when he said it but Foggy has more than a suspicion it might be true for today, that there was unlikely to be a more complicated answer for why Matt would look like hell tomorrow, if he even made it in to work.
"Matt?" Foggy calls as he opens the door a little apprehensively. The key he had was supposed to be for emergencies only and while he had respected that before he was fully ready to use it today. Oddly, he hadn't needed to, the front door was surprisingly unlocked. "I'm coming in. There's no sock on the door handle so I better not be surprised by any of your half naked lady friends." Not that that would necessarily be so bad. Matt ALWAYS scored the hotties. But damn it could be awkward, hence the warning.
"Jus' me," he hears Matt say from inside.
Foggy closes and locks the door behind him cause yeah, not really pleased that was unlocked, and heads inside.
"Hey buddy," he says, stepping into the living room and getting a look at Matt. He's not really too hopeful with what he finds.
Matt is laying on the sofa, mostly empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table, glass in hand. His hair is a mess, he hasn't shaved (but when does he ever except for court Foggy thinks) and he's still dressed in workout clothes. Foggy spots the bag of workout gear resting against the closet door, blocking it. Matt never leaves crap laying around on the floor if he can help it. The fact that its actively blocking the place where The Suit lives is not accidental Foggy thinks. But its what's not locked hidden away in the closet that gets Foggy's attention. Matt is curled up on the sofa with his dad's old boxing robe. Something came out of its hiding place today but its not the Daredevil suit this time.
"You been alright today?" Foggy asks, despite the fact that the evidence in front of him screams no.
"Mmm, Foggy," Matt says, pretty unhelpfully, but at least not in a negative way. He doesn't sound unhappy to see his friend, and that's something.
"Been busy?"
"Church, Fogwell's, cemetery," Matt helpfully explains his day with the least number of words possible. Foggy's just happy to get a straight answer cause he severely doubts Matt can string much together right now.
Foggy takes a seat in one of the chairs opposite the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't remember earlier in the day."
"Is okay," Matt slurs out. "You're here now." He somehow manages to take another drink laying down without spilling anything. "Lose the cap you gotta finish the bottle," Matt says sounding both serious and quite wasted at the same time.
Foggy has literally never heard Matt use this rule/excuse before. They've done plenty of drinking over the years so it seems like if they'd ever had this rule Foggy should know about it. He snags the bottle off the coffee table before Matt has any chance to refill his glass. He's not impressed to see another empty whiskey bottle on the kitchen counter when he goes to set the current one out of reach. He really hopes that one wasn't full when Matt started. Wouldn't surprise him if it had been though.
"Did you eat today, Matty?" he calls out as he scopes out the food situation in the fridge. Its mostly barren as usual.
A mumbled, "Mmm Foggy," is all the he gets in response.
"Not really an answer," he says but doubts he'll get one. "You want food?" he asks hopefully. The kitchen is clean, no dirty dishes to show whether Matt's remembered to eat today. Of course that's not really much of a sign. Matt is quite good at cleaning up after himself. Foggy doesn't know if was his Dad or the nuns or who taught Matt to be tidy and not leave a mess and while he certainly was thankful for this when they shared living arrangements, it's only a negative in times like now when a mess would be helpful to determine what's going on.
"No," Matt says and judging from his tone he means it.
"Right, cause why make this easy on yourself," Foggy says out loud but not really directing his words on his friend. Foggy grabs a glass of water and heads back to the living room. "Please drink this," he says holding out he glass in front of Matt. Matt half leavers himself up and accepts it. Apparently he's thirsty cause he drains it immediately. Foggy doubts the earlier workout at Fogwell's included adequate hydration.
"My fault," Matt starts.
Foggy's been through this more than enough times to know that's its absolutely useless to argue with Matt when he's like this. Anniversary of his father's death always ends up the same way, with guilt and sadness. Every. Damned. Year. Without fail.
"Its really not but why take my word for it," he says, feeling quite long suffering at the moment.
"It is. It was me. I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't have said ANYTHING. He should be here. I did this. I should have…"
"What?" Foggy says. "What should you have done? Huh? You were a kid, Matt. None of this is on you no matter how many times you say it, not matter how many years you think it."
"Mmm Foggy," Matt says yet again. But this time he doesn't sound as happy. He reaches for his glass on the coffee table, finds it quickly enough and drains it just as fast.
"Okay," Foggy says, grabbing the now empty tumbler from Matt's slightly fumbly fingers. "More than enough now."
"Mmm Foggy."
Foggy just shakes his head and sets the empty glass down. He supposes he should be flattered. Matt's thoroughly out of his head but definitely knows his friend is close and seems comfortable enough with the idea.
"You ready to call it a night?"
"Mmm Foggy," is all he gets in response as Matt curls up more on the sofa, snuggles into his father's robe.
"Awesome. Who needs actual responses?" Foggy says, aloud to himself. He figures he should be glad that this year he's not fighting off some random woman Matt picked up. While he's pretty sure his friend is selective and careful the other 364 days a year, Foggy has had couple of years of dealing with his friend's less than desirable pick ups to deal with. It's bad enough keeping Matt in once piece on this day, he doesn't need some random woman who doesn't even know Matt trying to get involved again, thank you very much.
"You wanna go to bed Matt," he says, not phrasing it as a question this time.
"Mmm okay," Matt says, and surprisingly sits himself up. His eyes blink widely looking even more unfocussed than usual if that's possible. They're aimed in Foggy's general direction but that's about it.
"Okay," he says, grabbing Matt's by the wrists and pulling him up before he has a chance to change his mind.
Foggy steers Matt towards his bedroom. Matt thankfully goes willingly enough.
"He's gone Foggy. They killed him," Matt slurs as though he hasn't repeated this information to Foggy a hundred times before, generally on the same day of the year, every year since they met.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, Matt. He is," Foggy says, gently plopping his friend on his bed. Matt's hit the point of limp noodle. Usually he's a fun drunk, giggly and talkative but not today. Never on this day.
Matt flops over bonelessly but somehow manages to get his head on a pillow. Foggy gets him settled under the covers, figures his work out clothes are comfy enough to sleep in and its definitely not worth the hassle to get Matt changed at this point. He literally tucks Matt in before stroking a hand through his hair.
"I'm sorry this hurts you so much every year." He doesn't say it hurts him almost as badly to see Matt fall like this every year. Maybe it was naïve but he'd kinda hoped somehow the 'other guy' situation might have helped. All in all he knows its probably for the best, Matt's not in a good state to be going out doing his Daredevil thing tonight.
Foggy arranges a couple pillows so Matt can't easily roll over from where he's curled up. They lost a friend in school to choking after heavy drinking and its stuck with him. He's not about to let anything like that ever happen to Matt, not let anything he can prevent happen to his friend.
Foggy makes his way back to the living room. He decides to grab a beer from the fridge. Looking at the whiskey bottles on the counter he's only slightly relieved that this time he won't actually have to lie to Karen tomorrow morning when she asks after Matt. He'll probably make it in but he'll be feeling like hell and likely look like it too for as much as he drank today. Foggy's lie about Matt's flakiness at work is, for one day anyway, going to be truth. All in all, he'd rather this not be the case and would of course prefer his partner be able to make it in to work fully functional.
He feels like a shitty friend as he sets an alarm on the calendar for the same day next year so he can hopefully get to Matt sooner and head off some of this misery next year.