Chapter 7: I can't change the past, but maybe I can stop making the same mistake

The night is warm, but not unpleasantly so. Every few minutes the breeze coming from the sea will bring the scant smell of fish and the lingering taste of boat oil.

As they walk through the neighborhood, Matt picks up on pieces of conversations and toasts. The smell of turkey comes from at least 15 households, only in that street, and it would have left Matt's mouth watering, if he hadn't overindulged himself with Anna's cooking merely an hour before.

Dinner had been a merry, comfortable occasion. Conversation was light – no difficult or polemic topics were broached. Candace had gotten over whatever problem she had with Matt, and was treating him as warmly as any of the other Nelsons.

At the table, Oli would sometimes open her mouth before snapping it shut, glancing guiltily in Matt's direction, but she never let anything slip, for which Matt was grateful. He knew that one day, when she was older, the oversimplified explanation he and Foggy fed her about Matt's abilities wouldn't be enough, and she'd start asking more complex – dangerous – questions. But Matt can't do anything about it now, so he lets it go.

Somewhere in the highest branch of a tree, a cat meows, turning Matt's attention back to the situation at hand.

They're strolling unhurriedly in direction of Christ the King Catholic Church. It's still relatively early, but Theo wanted to watch the carols, so they had finished up with dinner and departed. When they left, Olivia had been yawning non-stop, while still insisting that she wasn't sleepy and wanted to go to mass with them, Ruth couldn't keep her eyes open long enough to finish dessert, and Colin was already fast asleep on his mother's lap.

Leading the way, Edward and Karen are in an animated debate over the newest diplomacy scandal, while Foggy and Theo follow a few steps behind, talking about some TV show Matt's never heard about. Matt and Anna bring up the rear, marching conspicuously slower than the others.

Matt knows it's only a matter of time before Foggy's mom says what she wants to say, so he allows her to draw him away from the group without complaint.

He picks up on the increase of Foggy's heartbeat, which signals that he's realized what Anna's up to, but he's too far ahead for his friend to be able to do anything for him at that point.

To Matt's surprise, Anna remains silent for a long moment, keeping her head facing forwards and her posture outwardly relaxed. She doesn't give him any sign that she plans on speaking any time soon.

Matt sighs, exhausted, and decides to throw caution up in the air.

"Listen, Anna," he begins, not knowing exactly where this is going. "In light of recent events, I–uh. I wanted to thank you for everything you and your family have done for me over the years. You didn't have to take me in the way you did, but you chose to, anyways, and I'm really grateful for that." He pauses, swallowing dry. Besides him, her face is tilted up, listening attentively. "After–after my dad died, Christmas lost some of its appeal to me," he admits. "I'd still take part in the religious ceremonies involved, but apart from that I hadn't really celebrated it until Foggy invited me over for the holidays the year we met. I–I remember thinking, that first night, sleeping in the bunk in Foggy and Theo's room, 'so this is what it feels like, to belong somewhere'. I–I know I haven't been very present the past few years, but that has nothing to do with you. I've always felt welcomed by your family."

Anna sniffs quietly, and Matt can taste her tears in the air. "You were so hesitant back then," she says, at last, wiping at her eyes. "You'd never ask for anything, never complain – not even when my sisters-in-law shot obnoxious comments your way. You were perfectly polite the whole time. The easiest guest to please. I remember that we had to insist at least twice before you'd accept a second helping of pudding." She smiles sadly at him. "We almost didn't give you your gift, you know. We weren't sure you'd accept. It wasn't anything special, just some–"

"–linen made with natural fabric," Matt completes, throat closing up. "I remember. You–uh. You realized I was having trouble sleeping in the sheets I'd borrowed from Foggy, so you bought new ones in the last minute. To this date I still don't know how you and Ed managed to find a store open that late in the Christmas holidays," he tries to joke.

Anna chuckles softly, before continuing. "Over the years, we managed to make you more comfortable around us. Franklin was a big part of it, of course – he's always been good with people, every since he was a boy. He'd make friends anywhere he went, no matter how unlikely the circumstances."

Matt nods. He's always known that as much as Foggy jokes about Matt's abilities to impress girls, it's actually Foggy who's good at building relationships. Matt can charm someone into getting close, but it's Foggy who makes them want to stay.

"But somehow," Anna is saying, not quite having reached her point, "even with the vast network of colleagues and friends he built over the years, Franklin was still lonely. He still doubted his potential and his capacity to succeed. He still feared not being liked and accepted."

Matt frowns at that. He knew Foggy had a few self-esteem issues, back in college, but he never thought–

"And then he met you," she goes on. "And you both just seemed to click, you know? You brought out the best in each other. He was able to get you to open up and laugh more. He managed to make you feel comfortable in asking for certain things, and saying what you thought." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "I like to think that he showed you it was okay to care." At that, Anna reaches down to squeeze Matt's hand.

"Foggy's–" Matt tries to say, but he finds himself too choked up. "He's done a lot for me. More than anyone else," he manages to voice.

Anna nods. "You did a lot for him too," she estates calmly, much to Matt's surprise. "I remember how you'd push him to do better, to try harder and not be afraid of failing. Franklin wouldn't have graduated top of his class if it hadn't been for you. Even after you left college, you kept pushing him to do better, to do the right thing. I know he complained about it, but deep down he's always appreciated you for it."

Matt frowns. "He'd have done just as well by himself," he contradicts. "He's an excellent lawyer on his own merits, he's never needed me."

"I disagree," Anna replies. "I believe you changed his life for the better. I believe he wouldn't be the man he is today if he hadn't met you."

Matt opens his mouth to argue, but Anna beats him to it.

"The reason I'm telling you all of this," she explains, "is so that you understand why we reacted the way we did when things between you two got strained. It's true that there's been some – well – tension in the family regarding you rekindling your law firm and friendship. But I want you to know that it's not because we don't approve of it, or that we think Franklin's better off without you."

"I–" Matt starts to deny, but cuts himself off. It's no use trying to pretend with her, not now.

Anna keeps going as if he hasn't spoken. "What I fear is that you'll make the same mistake again," she tells him, without mincing words. "The Castle case put your and Franklin's career – and even your lives – in jeopardy. It was the moment you were supposed to work together, but instead you left him do deal with everything by himself."

She stops, turning to face him fully. Matt only now realizes they've reached the entrance of the church. The others are already inside, looking for seats.

"Franklin was disappointed and frustrated that he lost Castle's case," Anna reveals, "but he was more disappointed that you weren't with him as it happened."

Matt wishes that was the only time he disappointed his best friend. At that point, that particular offense was a minor one, in the grand scheme of things.

Helplessly, Matt asks himself: would Anna be telling him all of this if she knew how dangerous and toxic Matt really was?

He doesn't believe so.

They stand there in silence for a minute. Matt desperately searches for something to say – for a way to make Anna understand that despite Matt's best intentions, he can't help but hurt the people closest to him.

"I'm–I never wanted to hurt Foggy like that," he confesses, turning his head away. "But I'm scared to death that I will inadvertently do so again."

To his shock, Anna isn't angry at his admission. Instead, she gently places a warm, wrinkled hand on his cheek, in a comforting gesture.

"And that's how I know that you won't, dear."

"Man, I'm knackered," Foggy comments around a yawn, falling face-down into his pillow, as soon as they reach their room. "I almost nodded off when everyone lined up for Communion. I feel like I need to sleep for a week."

Matt chuckles softly, closing the door to their room and letting go of the pretense to need his cane.

"Don't forget that in a few hours the kids will be pounding on our doors," Matt replies, putting his glasses on the bedside table and kicking off his shoes.

Foggy lets out a long whine. "Oh, god why," he complains. "I hate Christmas mornings."

Matt grins at his friend's antics, slipping out of his silk button-up in exchange for the comfortable undershirt he wears to sleep.

"You love Christmas mornings," he contradicts, throwing Foggy's pajamas on top of his fallen form. "Now get ready for bed before you fall asleep in your trousers," he prompts.

"Yes, Mom," Foggy childishly returns, but does get up.

As they brush their teeth side by side in front of the bathroom sink – because 'it's faster this way, and besides, it's not like we'll compete to get the best shot at the mirror, buddy' – Foggy shifts on his feet uncomfortably, tipping Matt off that he wants to say something, but doesn't know exactly where to begin.

"Say what you need to say," Matt tells him, bumping their shoulders lightly after he's rinsed his mouth. "I promise I won't be mad if you tell me you didn't buy me a Christmas present," he teases, stepping out of the room and finding his way onto his bed.

Foggy snorts, dropping bodily on the other bed. "You just want me to say that so you won't look bad tomorrow morning, when you show up empty-handed to the gift exchange."

Matt throws a sock in his face.

"Uh. Gross!" Foggy complains, flinging it back in Matt's direction. He easily catches the garb and drops it on to the floor.

"It's one of yours, actually," Matt comments.

"Damn, it's only the second night and our stuff is already getting mixed up," Foggy says, laying an arm over his face dramatically. "It really is just like college."

"Nah," Matt replies easily, getting comfortable in the sheets. It's not the 1000-thread count he uses at home, but it's almost as good. "We'd have to be way less sober for that."

"You can say that again. Gosh." And Matt can hear Foggy's tired muscles flexing and his joints cracking. "I wish we'd just stayed home. We could have gotten shit-faced at Josie's and avoided this whole mess."

"Yeah," Matt chuckles, but it comes out strained and artificial.

"But then again," Foggy continues, "there were some pretty interesting developments these holidays, if you ask me."

"If you–uh. If you want to call them that," Matt says, noncommittally.

Foggy waves a hand, placing the other under his head, as he faces the ceiling. "I mean, sure. My niece proving once and for all that she definitely inherited your reckless streak and me and my sister publicly feuding over my life choices weren't exactly the highlights of the day. But it could have been worse."

"Oli and I aren't even related. How could she inherit anything from me?" Matt argues, just for the sake of it. "And I'm pretty sure that exchanging a few angry remarks on the porch doesn't qualify as a public feud."

"You know what I mean, Murdock," Foggy shoots back. "Now let me continue with the day's recap."

Matt snorts. "The floor is yours, Counselor."

"So, anyways," Foggy goes on. "Near-fatal incidents and fraternal squabbles aside, I had a lot of fun the rest of the day."

"Except when Karen wished Frank merry Christmas," Matt corrects.

"Except when Karen wished Frank-fucking-Castle merry Christmas," Foggy agrees, running a hand through his hair. "I swear to you, the company you two keep..."

"You're one to talk," Matt retorts. "Karen told me she caught you sending an emoji-filled text message to a certain alcoholic private investigator."

Foggy throws his arms up in the air. "Slander!" He loudly clears his throat. "And even it was true, it's good to keep your options open. You never know when you'll need Jones' skillset."

"Hopefully, never again," Matt mutters.

"But knowing you, probably sooner than I'd like," Foggy quips back.

They laugh, before falling silent.

"My mom–" Foggy stammers out after a few minutes. "I hope she didn't give you too much crap about the whole addiction story," he rubs at his forehead, sounding embarrassed. "I told her not to bother you about it. I know how much you hate–"

"No, no," Matt interrupts, thinking back to Anna's sweet words. "She was–She didn't mention it at all."

"Oh. Good," Foggy replies, surprised. "Then what did you…?" He trails off, uncertain.

Matt sighs. "She basically told me she thinks we're good to each other, and that she's pleased we're back in speaking terms," he reveals, guilt tasting like ashes on his tongue.

Foggy whistles. "Nice one, mom," he comments, sounding appreciative. Then, he turns in his bed, and Matt can clearly imagine the raised eyebrow that accompanies his friends next words. "But you were sure to tell her that I'm not dumping Marci to shackle up with you, right? I don't want her to get her hopes up."

Matt laughs, amused despite himself. "Um. Let me see. I think I might have given her the impression that you, Karen and I are getting up to interesting afterhours activities back in the office," he teases.

"Darn," Foggy fists the air the mock-regret. "I knew I shouldn't have invited the both of you to spend Christmas at my parents'. Marci did tell me people would get all the wrong ideas," he jokes.

"Yeah, well. Maybe you shouldn't have," Matt replies, and he tries to make it sound like a joke, but he's too exhausted to keep pretending everything is fine, so he doesn't put enough effort into it.

The skip in Foggy's heartbeat is as loud as a thunder in Matt's ear.

"What?" Foggy quickly says. "No, man. I was just kidding. Of course I don't regret bringing you and Karen over."

"Yeah, I know," Matt returns, just as quickly. "Just–uh. Forget about it. Let's–let's go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day." He reaches out with his hand to flick off the light switch between their beds, but Foggy bats his fingers away.

"Not okay, buddy," Foggy interrupts firmly. "Don't go all silent and stoic on me now." He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. "Tell me what's eating at you?" He asks, gently.

Matt's first instinct is to deny everything and close himself off. That's precisely what he's been trying to avoid. Making people worry, making people feel like it's their obligation to help. Matt's done with pulling others down with him because of his incapacity to suck it up and deal with it by himself. But now here he is, drawing Foggy in again.

An idea strikes Matt, causing him to pause before snapping that 'there's nothing wrong, Foggy, can you please let it go?'

Maybe that was the problem all along, he muses. Maybe if Matt's honest enough, Foggy will realize he's walking into a trap – that he's walked into a trap a long time ago. Matt tried letting him go before, but he didn't manage to stick with his decision. But Foggy's not as weak as Matt. He'd be able to pull if off, if he really wanted to.

Matt just has to makes sure he wants to.

"I–I know you're still angry with me, about the stuff I've put you through," Matt begins, and senses Foggy's surprise at his forthcomingness. "I know that no matter how many times I apologize, it'll never make it up for all the lies that I told and the danger I constantly put you through, by your mere continuous association with me. I know we're trying to patch things up, and that you're making an effort not to snap when you get frustrated at me, or when we disagree–"

Foggy nods. "Yeah. And I know," he interrupts, "that you're working on being more open about yourself with me and Karen. I realize you're making an effort too. I don't expect everything to go back to the way it used to be. I know these things take time and that there will be bumps along the road."

"Right," Matt agrees. "Of course. The thing is, Foggy." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "The thing is–I can't promise you I won't do the things that hurt you again. I can't promise you that between the right choice and the smart one, I'll take the one that gets me home alive, not when–not when there are lives at stake."

"So you're saying you'd rather be Daredevil and punch bad guys in alleys than be Matt Murdock and keep being friends?" Foggy demands, frustration clear in the inflection of every word. "Shit, man. Just make up your mind already."

Foggy still doesn't understand. But it's not like Matt can blame him: he himself is just beginning to realize it too.

I'd rather die as the devil, than live as Matt Murdock, he had once said.

"There is–there is no distinction," Matt tries to explain. "I thought there was. In the beginning I thought I could keep my two lives apart, and then I figured it wasn't working out because I had to choose one over the other."

"And now?" Foggy prompts.

"Now I understand that I could break ties with everyone I've ever loved – I could renounce my life as Matt Murdock and live only in the shadows as Daredevil – and still I'd care. Still I'd look for conexions. Still I'd worry about people like and you and Karen."

"Good," Foggy says with an emphatic nod. "High time you–"

"But I also understand," Matt interjects, desperation creeping into his voice despite his best efforts, "and that's what I wish you'd understand too," he adds, a tad more quiet, "that I could hang up the armor, I–I could stop training and stop fighting. I could muffle my ears at night, as so not to hear the pleas for help. And still–and still that wouldn't stop the devil from trying to claw out of me."

"Matt..." Foggy begins, and there is a tentativeness in his tone that hadn't been there before. "Matt, you do realize the devil's just a metaphor, right? For you anger and your need to make things right." He chuckles, but the sound is anything but happy. "You're taking the whole 'Devil of Hell's Kitchen' imagery a step too far. We're not in hell, Matty, and you're not the devil. The devil doesn't exist."

But what if he does, Foggy? Matt wants to ask, but doesn't dare to.

Instead, he says: "That doesn't change the fact that Daredevil is a part of me, just as much as Matt Murdock. I can't be one without also being the other." Matt has to stop and steel himself for what he has to say next. "You can't have one without also having to put up with the other, Foggy."

Daredevil is much more than the part of Matt that enjoys beating up people or that can feel satisfaction at the sound of criminal's bones breaking.

Daredevil is the part of him Matt allows himself to take pleasure in selfish, dangerous things. Like walking Karen home in the rain, and being able to hear each and every drop that makes contact with her skin; or lying down next to Foggy, and being able to drown himself in his friend's familiar smell until he's lulled into sleep.

Daredevil is the part of Matt Murdock that recognizes all of these things, and still wants to cling on to the people he'll hurt.

"Shit, man," Foggy finally says, after a long moment. His heart's beating fast, and he's sweating, but he doesn't appear particularly put out by Matt's admission. "Way to give a guy an ultimatum, huh?"

Matt doesn't react to the attempted joke.

"Listen, Matt," Foggy picks up, serious now. "I don't know what you want me to tell you here, okay? Do I like that you put on a costume and go out to creep up on rooftops at night? Of course not! Do I like that your idea of volunteer work is to risk your freedom and your life in a daily basis? I'm not particularly in love with the idea, no."

"Then tell me to leave!" Matt finally snaps. Voice sharp and hot with anger and fear. "Tell me you can't do it anymore. Tell me it was a mistake for me to come here and get entangled with your family again."

Foggy tsks. "Can't do it, Matty," he replies calmly, as if Matt hadn't just unreasonably shouted at him.

"Why not?" And when Matt asks, his voice is small. All the fight has left him, and all that remains is numbing exhaustion.

"Because, buddy," Foggy says slowly, willing his friend to understand, "you're my best friend and I love you. And nothing you say or do is going to change that. Got it?" Matt's expression must show his skepticism, because Foggy forges on. "You could have run off for good with your murderous, ninja girlfriend, and I'd still love you – I'd be mad as hell, don't get me wrong, but you'd still be my best bud." He tries to pull at his hair, but the strands are too short. "Fuck man, you could have freaking killed Fisk, and it wouldn't have changed shit."

"It would have changed everything," Matt can't help but contradict.

"For you, yeah!" Foggy snarls at last. "That's why I was against it. Not because I wanted to save that bald asshole, but because I wanted to save you!"

Matt can't say anything in response to that.

Foggy rubs at his eyes with worrying force. "Let's–let's sleep it off. Tomorrow–"

"I'm going to disappoint you, in the end," Matt interrupts with a dark promise. "I'm going to disappoint you, and you'll leave."

Again.

Foggy makes a frustrated noise. "I'll come back, alright?" He snaps, without thinking. "If you do or say something to make me leave, I'll–I'll come back. I did before, I can do it again."

He pauses. And it must be wishful thinking on Matt's part, but Foggy sounds as relieved at having taken the words off his chest as Matt feels at hearing the truth in them.

"You told me how your dad used to say that the Murdocks take a lot of hits, but they always get back up, right?" Foggy continues, without waiting for a reply. "Well, the Nelsons sometimes leave shouting and screaming, but we always go back to the people who matter to us."

When Matt licks his lips, he can taste the the mixture of his and Foggy's tears in the air.

"And Matty, you damn well matter to me."