Who’s that knocking at your door?
It was a quarter past midnight. Foggy banged again at the peeling doors to Matt’s apartment, nauseous and tired. He had gotten a call from the funeral home back at Josie’s and now that the alcohol had settled in his stomach the responsibility weighed him. Not that he minds– Elena Cardenas deserved a proper funeral. To hell with any extra responsibilities, he’ll take them as they come. Isn’t that what a lawyer does– the right thing?
The right thing would be to call it a night and go home but he wouldn’t. He wanted to fall asleep on Matt’s couch and forget about everything for a night, even if that was only in his sleep. Then, when Foggy wakes up tomorrow morning he can take care of his responsibilities. But for tonight, he can be drunk and sleep with back pain on Matt’s couch. Just tonight.
You’ve got lots to answer for
Who’s he kidding, Matt doesn’t want to talk right now. He’s probably just as bad after hearing about Cardenas. Maybe he was as drunk as Foggy right now, sleeping on his couch. But he didn’t want him to sulk either– neither of them should be sulking. They had to do something, a game plan, anything. Fisk needed to go down. “Make him pay.” Karen is right. They should’ve done something from the start– even way back when Mr. Glasses with an asshole smirk came to them with that stupid check.
Foggy’s not leaving till he and Matt talk.
They need to talk.
BANG.
Foggy jumped at the bang. “Matt!?”
He started for the stairs. If Matt was drunk, and that bang was Matt–
“Matt, are you ok?! I heard a bang, you know the type that’s not good. The “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” one. Matt!”
At the top of the stairs, he started for the door, pushing it open with all the force he can muster drunk and wobbly. Once inside Matt’s apartment, Foggy felt his stomach knot. It was dark– Matt kept it dark– but quiet. Too quiet. He squinted and looked around from the kitchen to the couches to the doorway to Matt’s room. He noticed a breeze like one of the windows was open. Was there an intruder? Did an intruder intrude on a blind guy's house? Cause that’s low.
He slowly walked down the wooden steps, being careful of any creaks. Eyes alert and wide, Foggy looked for a weapon. Anything that could defend Matt and himself. ‘Where is Matt? Is he ok?’ He wasn’t in the main living area of the apartment, maybe in his room? Foggy tried to listen for anything but heard nothing. He tried focusing. He saw Matt’s cane– making him even more nervous.
On the final step, his foot caught on broken wood. Foggy looked down. He stared. ‘Not good.’ There was a dent in the floor– like someone was thrown to the ground. Foggy reached for the cane and held it up high, like a bat.
“Whoever you are, show yourself!” The room grew darker– or maybe that was Foggy– besides the windows on the wall next to him. The brightness from the billboard helped him see around the room. No intruder. Only lights of pink and green.
Until a dark silhouette stepped out of the shadows. Foggy tensed, heartbeat raising as he raised the cane.
Who’s that sleeping in your bed?
“Who are you?!”
The man only breathed, sucking in air like it was the last. Shallow and hitched. Foggy stared at him, clenching his jaw. The man steps forward more into the light. Foggy’s eyes widened again when he recognized the man.
It was the Masked Man.
Foggy gripped the cane. His mask covered half of his face, the other with a scruff. He looked young based on the half Foggy could see, but still not much to go off. He was beaten, bad. Slashes across his chest and legs were bleeding out and red tainted the skin just barely showing from the tears in his dark clothes.
This was the man he saw in the news. The supposed cop killer and terrorist. The man Karen says to be a hero. And now he was intruding in his friend’s apartment.
The man tried to speak. But nothing came out. Foggy stared as the man stepped forward until he fell on the wooden floor. He lays there, crumpled and broken. The man tried moving around but, as Foggy noticed, he was losing a lot of blood. He was probably dizzy and fatigued. His gloved hand reached for his chest, clutching the cloth.
Foggy brought down the cane and reached for his phone in his pocket. He started dialing for police. This man hurt people, he went against the law. But he's hurt. Whether he deserves to get help or to be thrown in jail is someone else's decision, Foggy isn’t dealing with it. It’s not like the Masked Man is Foggy and Matt’s client. So it's not his responsibility. Right? This seems like the right thing to do: call and then find Matt.
But he couldn’t do it.
His hand slightly shook around his phone. He squeezed it.
The man whimpered.
He stuffed it back into his pocket and knelt down on the floor. The man’s blood kept soaking up more of the cloth and started staining the wood beneath him. Foggy held up a hand but froze when realizing he didn’t know what to do. The man whimpered again under his breath. He was breathing deeply.
And so was Foggy. He was drunk, ok?! And in panic, because he can’t find Matt and the Masked Man was bleeding out on Matt’s carpet so excuse him this once for freaking the fuck out.
What would Matt do?
Where the fuck was Matt?
Foggy breathed deeply one more time before raising his hand to the mask.
The man jerked, just slightly, as to try and stop Foggy. Reasonable. He was going to do something very stupid, like unmask a dangerous man. Foggy’s ideas were never good drunk.
It was agonizing how long it took to get himself to wrap his hand around the mask. His finger tips rubbed the cloth. It was soft.
He lifts it over the man’s eyes, just enough.
Ah ah ah
He couldn’t breath. He swallowed, his mouth going dry.
Matt.
Cross your heart and hope to die
It can’t. It–
Swear that you won’t tell no lie
Why would he– Matt’s a lawyer. He believes in the law. He wouldn’t break it.
All this time, he went after Fisk. He beat the bald bastard's guys, running around the city like a madman asking for names. He beat them up. How? He can’t see. Was he lying the whole time?
He lied?
Cross your heart and hope to die
Foggy had to call someone. The hospital. He rushed to get his phone out of his pocket, yanking it out when it caught onto his pants. He started dialing.
A bruised hand wrapped over his.
Ah ah ah ah
“No…” Matt’s faint voice broke the air, he stared at the ceiling. “No cops. No hospital.”
“Matt, you need help.” He couldn’t stop the hurt and anger from seeping through. Foggy can’t let this bastard die. Not before he got to question him. Not till Foggy knows why. Matt can’t die.
He won’t die.
Every time you fall asleep
“No hospi…” Matt’s eyes fluttered. He was fading in and out of consciousness. Breathing a deep inhale, he squeezed Foggy’s shaking hand. “Please…” So faint. Foggy panicked.
“Matt– hey Matt wake up” he slapped his cheek over, “Matt. Keep your eyes open, goddammit. I have to call. You’re gonna die if I don’t and you don’t get to die yet.”
“Phone.”
“What?!”
“...Phone. My..” Foggy got enough. He searched Matt’s pants (Tactical, with so many pockets. Matt’s not a tactical type of guy. Or Foggy thought, he doesn’t know what to think anymore), fishing through them till he found Matt’s phone. He clutched it in his shaking hands.
“What do I do now? Hey!” He slapped his cheek again, “Wake up, Matt! What do I do? Who do I call?”
“Claire.” Matt’s eyes fluttered shut.
You got problems now, my friend
“Matt? Matt!” He slapped his cheek again, a little rougher than before. Partially from the shaking, partially from the anger and hurt he felt coursing through his body, which is adding the his shaking which adds back to his mixed feelings and fuck. Matt doesn’t lie to him. Not till now, and Matt is going to stay alive till he tells Foggy the damn truth. “Stay awake, Matt!”
He fiddled with the phone, looking for ‘Claire’ in the contacts. When he found one, he called.
He heard it ring.
…
Ah ah ah
You can run
You can run
You can run
I don’t mind
I don’t mind
I don’t mind
…
When Matt woke up, he heard a heartbeat.
He grumbled, feeling hot pain all over his body. His cuts burned like a spreading wildfire. It hurt, so bad. He never got beaten as bad as he did last night. It burned and yet, it felt good. It felt real.
He reached over to bandages on his side and started to peel at the square, hissing as he did. He felt the cut with his fingertips. He felt the notches of the stitches and the dried blood around it, grumbling again when he hit a soft spot.
He felt drugged. And sluggish. The smell of blood and pain from his body made him feel high, or maybe that was the loss of blood. How much did he lose? It seems like a lot. Too much. He can’t be certain: his senses aren’t focused on himself. He was focused on the heartbeat.
‘Thump Thump Thump.’
The heartbeat made him feel high to. The simple beat: thump thump thump. It soothed his pain, making him feel even better.
He started to get up.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Oh.
Truth’s gonna come out
Foggy’s voice was both soothing and aching. The night before flooded into his mind and memories of wooden floors and shaking hands reached his mind. His stomach dropped.
He could hear Foggy cross the room, and sit on the armchair across from the couch Matt laid on. Matt could tell Foggy was upset, frustrated and confused and hurt. He was hurt. And it was Matt’s fault. Foggy knew. He knew from last night when Matt fell on his own floor and bled out. And Foggy had to watch him as he did. Foggy’s shaking, warm hands. Foggy’s deep breaths to calm himself. Foggy’s hurt. And anger.
Foggy’s heartbeat. Still here.
He lied to Foggy. He hid himself from him.
And now he needs to tell the truth.
“Foggy, you patched me up?”
“No, your hot nurse friend did. Claire, I think.” Foggy’s voice was low.
“Oh…” Matt said, simply.
“I–You– you’re the one running around. You’re the–” Foggy’s voice cracked. “You’re the Masked Man. You didn’t say anything, you did tell me. Why.”
Matt didn’t answer.
Someday it’s gonna
“Matt, why?” The same demanding tone from the night before, when he was trying to keep Matt awake. He liked that time from Foggy. It made his chest flutter.
“I wanted to keep you safe.”
“Bullshit!” Foggy stood up, having it. “You could’ve said something! And you didn’t. Goddamnit Matt, you’re my friend. And you’re running around playing hero without telling anyone– well except your hot nurse. Thanks for telling me that too.”
“I didn’t get the choice to tell her, Fog. She found out.”
“How?!”
“She found me in a dumpster.”
“A dumpster– oh my fucking god!” Foggy paced around the room. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since we opened the firm.” The pain was a constant throbbing, and he could only hear so much of Foggy’s words. It was muffled compared to his heartbeat.
“Matt, you’re a lawyer. You work with the law.”
“And I break it too. I know.”
“That’s not a good thing! What you’re doing, it’s vigilantism. It's working outside the law. I mean– you lie about this, you’re probably lying about all those cuts you get from “falls.” Were those from your flips and tricks in the news?!” He still paced. “I mean, are you even blind?!”
“Yes. Kind of,” he brought a hand up to his forehead to rub at.
“Kind of?!”
“It's difficult to explain.”
“So then explain! I got all day.”
He chose his next words carefully. He never got to talk about this before, besides with Stick. “I can sense things that others can’t.” Foggy sits back down on the armchair to listen closer.
Matt continues, “I can see with other senses.”
“How?”
Wipe that smile off your face but
He smiles, resting his hand down on his chest, “I can tell you haven’t showered for two days. I know that you ate a turkey sandwich for lunch. … I know that your heartbeat is speeding up as I say this–”
“You can hear my heartbeat?” Matt didn’t need to see the shock on Foggy’s face. “That’s how you knew Karen wasn’t lying, that’s– you can’t do that, Matt! That’s invading a client!”
“Foggy, I know you’re upset right now, and you have every reason to. But please I promise you I—”
“Please what?! You’ve been lying about how much you see and what you’re doing and I felt sorry for you. I felt sorry for you, Matt.”
You can run
“I couldn’t stop you from that.”
“But you could’ve not lied!”
“How would I tell you, Foggy? How?!” His voice shook, “You wouldn’t have believed me…”
“Of course I would, Matt!”
You can run
“You would’ve believed me if I said: “Oh hi, I’m Matt. At nine years old, I got chemicals in my eyes and got super senses from it.”
“Yes! Yes, I would, Matt! Because it’s you! And hell, when you told me it now I believed you. Even when you lied before.” Matt felt his heartbeat through his chest, he breathed in deeply. He knew what he was feeling. He’s felt it before, like last night when he grasped shaking hands. Or the week before, when they went to Josie’s for a drink and got tipsy, with red cheeks and laughs all night long. Or when they opened the firm, with a cardboard sign with their names on the door. Or when they quit the internship at Landman and Zack, in that small storage space with boxes piling around their desks. Or when they first met in their dorm, when Matt finally had hope for his future. He knew what he was feeling since the day he met Foggy Nelson. He’s not an idiot.
And he couldn’t believe this man could feel the same for him.
“Why?”
You can run
They both held on to the string tugging them both, the string of desperation to know why? Why the lies? The secrets? The hurt? The pain? They held onto that string without ever letting go, and neither was comfortable staying here. Before one of them snapped.
You saw things that shook your core
Foggy signed. His hangover didn’t help, a never-ending pounding in his skull that wouldn’t let up. His hands didn’t help either and soon they started to shake again. He tried to hold them together to make it stop but it didn’t work. Matt– the bastard– reached across to steady them with his own. Foggy looked down at the bruised fingers. The blooms of purple and yellow, tender and raw with a few scattered cuts.
‘He punched with these hands.’ he thought. ‘He punched Fisk with these hands. And many others.’
Things you’ve never seen before
Foggy could never imagine Matt doing these things, especially not considering murder. But what did he know, not much from what he can tell. And what’s worse is that Matt thought he had to hide– whether because he believed Foggy wouldn’t believe him or it endangered Foggy and Karen's lives. All this time, Foggy didn’t know what Matt really went through. But he wants that to change– god, he really wants that to change. He doesn’t want to know only a sliver of Matt Murdock. He wants to know it all, nothing left unsaid. All of it.
Could’ve walked away instead
He thinks back to last night: to Matt stumbling towards him, him falling to the ground, Foggy revealing his face. He thinks to the bruises and cuts, and dark clothes stained with mud and blood. He thinks of red all over his body and face, with bruises forming on his knuckles. Purple and yellow and red mixed together like paint. And he also thinks about now: The same dried blood that is still in Matt’s eyebrow, cocked waiting for an answer. The same bruises holding his hands.
The same puppy dog eyes and frown on his lips.
All these things, and Foggy is not screaming for the hills yet.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
“Because I believe you.” He told Matt.
Now you got no one you can trust
“Even if I lied before?”
“Yes.”
Matt’s frown deepened, “But I lied. I didn’t tell you the truth. Aren’t you worried that I would do that again?”
“Why would you lie again?”
“I–”
“There’s no reason to. You told me everything now. Right?”
“Yes.”
Think it’s wrong–
“So why would you lie again?” Matt didn’t respond, pulling his hands away from Foggy. But he held them tight, not letting Matt escape just yet.
“Because I’m not a good person…” his voice lowers, becoming small. Vulnerable. Matt looks even more unsure now.
“What?” he says softly. Foggy grips his hands tighter, “Matt, you don’t believe that, do you?”
Matt doesn’t respond. Foggy’s brows furrow.
–your soul unjust
“Matt, you’re not a bad person. I mean, yeah I was mad at you. And yeah you shouldn’t have lied, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.” Matt suddenly shakes his head.
“No, Foggy. I hurt people, and I will hurt more. I can’t believe myself to be a good person when I hurt people.” His hands tense up in Foggy’s. He noticed the tension flow through Matt’s entire body, all the way up to his brows and big brown eyes. They furrowed at the seems, and god, he’s just a work of art to Foggy in any state of mind, huh?
Point your finger and deny
“You beat up bad guys.” When Matt doesn’t answer, he adds, “What!? It’s true!” Matt chuckles, his hands loosening from the tension before.
“You’re so blunt about it.”
“But it’s true! You beat up the bad guys. See? I told you, you’re a hero.” he smiles, “And you shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He said, trying to cheer up his friend.
“You said earlier that I was a vigilante, and that it wasn’t a good thing?” He said it with such skepticism, it made Foggy laugh.
“I did? Oooh…I did, didn’t I?” He cringed at his past self. They both laughed at this. He felt the rumble through his yellow and purple hands.
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Matt smiled again softly, “Thank you Foggy.”
“Yeah, of course. I’m not done with you yet, but I can be for a few hours.”
“Just a few?”
“Yup.” He stated proudly.
“I guess I’m lucky.” Matt smiled his toothy smile this time, sending heat to Foggy’s ears.
Foggy looked down again at their hands entangled. He felt a beat in his chest. That reminded him–
“So, you can hear heartbeats?”
Matt raised his eyebrows, “Yes.”
“And you can hear mine right now?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“And you can hear changes? Like when a person lies… or when a person likes someone?”
“Yes, Foggy, I know when you're flirting with a girl. I don’t have to hear a heartbeat for that.” He laughs. Matt shifts a little on the couch, squinting at a stab of pain in the movement.
You can run
You can run
You can run
He could leave it. They already talked enough for one day, and they have plenty more to talk about. And they still need to tell Karen because they are telling Karen. She is not being left out of this conversation. They’re a team, and she deserves to know. And Foggy needs to know what Matt meant earlier about being a bad person because he will not let that fly into nowhere without talking about it.
And he’s still hungover with a throbbing headache.
Matt’s probably still in pain from last night.
So he should leave it.
But he can’t stop thinking about it.
He can’t stop thinking about last night, and now, but mostly from last night. Don’t get him wrong, Foggy hates to see Matt in pain, or hurt, or anything that isn’t happy. But he can’t help the thoughts of Matt’s bruised hands holding his or the way Matt looked after the fight. Beat up and bruised. It fascinates Foggy and he has no idea why.
Maybe he doesn’t mind knowing those guys get beat up by Matt. Maybe he’s a little too proud it's Matt who’s doing it. Maybe he wants those bruised hands holding his wrists down instead.
I don’t mind
I don’t mind
I don’t mind
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
He raises their tangled hands up and presses Matt’s hand to his lips. Matt’s eyes go wide, and he tenses again. But he doesn’t pull away.
“Can you hear it now?”
Matt’s frozen for a moment. He flinches, almost as if to get up, but realizes he can’t so instead he says, “Foggy, can you please kiss me? And not on the hands. I would kiss you right now but I can’t—” He’s cut off when Foggy gets up from the armchair and kisses him on the lips this time.
Truth’s gonna come out
Someday it’s gonna
Wipe that smile off your face but
You can run
You can run
You can run
When they separate, the first thing Foggy notices is how red and swollen Matt’s lips are and how flushed his face is. He smiles.
“Red suits you, M.”
“M?”
“Yeah, like it? I did it with Karen she liked it–” he was cut off by another kiss.