Matt had been back to “life” for several months now. Learning to better balance his day job with his night job. Learning to be a better friend, not shut out the people that cared for him.
And once a week he was learning how to be a son to a mother he was just getting to know. Each Sunday he went to Mass, then stayed to help Maggie with her work with the kids, finally ending each day with a shared meal in her quarters, just the two of them.
He still struggled at times with wanting to push everyone away, to do things on his own terms, and he was still afraid of his double life hurting those he loved, but he was learning that some of these choices were not his to make. That other people got to choose whether they stayed in his life or not, and whether they cared for him or not. And while he was getting better at letting others in, he still struggled with letting them help him. This was particularly true when he was injured or otherwise unwell. The impulse to push everyone away and soldier on alone was a strong one and it got the better of him sometimes, but he was trying.
So when he woke one Sunday morning with a pounding sinus headache and scratchy throat, it never crossed his mind to think about staying home or admitting to Maggie that he wasn’t feeling well. Worst of all would be to admit that the headache and accompanying congestion were playing havoc with his senses, making it hard to get through the day without wanting to scream at every extraneous noise or sensory input that came his way. Mostly, he just didn’t want to admit to himself that something might be wrong, because then he’d have to face it and he had enough on his plate at the moment.
Instead, he got himself dressed for church, rubbed his nose in the hopes of driving away the itch that was starting to build there and headed to Mass.
Once in the church, the crowd and the incense seemed to press on him as soon as he entered. The itch in nose became almost unbearable, and it was a relief when he was able to stifle two quick sneezes into his arm as he took his seat. While normally he sat toward the front where Maggie could find him, today he sat in a less crowded area toward the back where the crush of bodies wouldn’t be so intense.
Even still, he had a hard time focusing on the sermon. His head and sinuses were pounding, the itch in his nose kept returning no matter how hard he rubbed, and his clothes felt like sandpaper against his skin. Every rustle, shuffle, murmur, and cough from the crowd grated against his ears and he was having trouble tuning them out.
Mass seemed to drag on forever and he was grateful when it ended, the people streaming past him on their way to the exit. He stayed seated, eyes closed against his headache waiting for the church to empty so he could find Maggie. He was feeling worse by the second now, with a pain in his throat when he swallowed.
He found himself looking forward to the mint tea that Maggie always brewed after the congregation had left. He hoped it would help his headache; maybe the steam would help the congestion that was making it harder to take a breath through his nose without sneezing. It still hadn’t occurred to him that he could make his excuses and leave. He just kept telling himself that it was the weather that was making his head pound, the incense that was making his throat scratchy and his nose itch, and the extra people were to blame for the rest of his misery.
By the time the last of the parishioners had left, Matt had fallen into a light doze. He was therefore startled to feel Maggie’s hand shaking him awake again.
“Honestly, Matthew,” she scolded him good naturedly, “Falling asleep in church isn’t like you.” He laughed in return, then grimaced as the laugh turned into a cough.
“Sorry,” he told her, clearing his throat, “To be fair, I stayed awake for the sermon. It was waiting for everyone to go that put me to sleep.” He stood to make his way out of the pew and the movement shifted the congestion in his sinuses, making him sneeze heavily several times as he exited.
“God bless you!” Maggie exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at him. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now she could see how pale he was with the exception of reddened cheeks and nose. His posture also seemed tired and he was moving with none of his usual energy.
“You know, if you’re not feeling well you don’t need to come to Mass. You could simply call and explain.” Maggie took his arm and steered him toward the stairs.
“I’m fine,” Matt protested, wincing at how rough and congested his voice sounded.
Maggie snorted in response, “Try again, and let me remind you that it’s a sin to lie, and even more so when in God’s house on a Sunday.” Matt hung his head sheepishly. He realized that he’d been lying to himself all morning. He’d also been hoping she wouldn’t notice what was clearly turning into a bad cold.
“I really am OK,” he insisted, “It’s just a cold,” he broke off with a series of coughs that ended in a sneeze.
“Bless you. You still shouldn’t be out; you probably walked here in that wind, didn’t you? I know full well you like burning the candle at both ends and if you don’t stop to take care of that cold it’s going to become pneumonia before you know it.” She gave him a sidelong glance to see how he was taking her lecture. He hadn’t always responded well in the past.
Now, however, he merely sighed and nodded, “You’re probably right…” he trailed off for a moment, thinking about why he had come despite his misery. He decided that telling her was probably the right course of action.
“But to be honest, I’ve really come to enjoy our Sundays and I didn’t want to go a week without seeing you.” He smiled sideways at her, “Plus, I didn’t really want to acknowledge how lousy I felt when I woke up. And honestly the thought of your mint tea is the only thing keeping me going right now,” he added, waiting for her reaction and relaxing muscles he didn’t know he was clenching when she laughed and squeezed his arm.
“Then let’s get you some. I’ll start a fresh pot. One of the other sisters has organized a picnic for the children. I had thought we might join them, but we can just stay inside; that wind out there is intense. I’m not sure you’d enjoy that as much as the children will with their kites.” They headed back toward the kitchen where Matt collapsed into a chair and listened as Maggie made the tea. The sound was so soothing, listening to her hum as she worked that he was able to take his mind off things for a few minutes, just focusing on her movements.
He must have been more tired than he realized because the next thing he knew, he was waking to Maggie’s hand pressed to his forehead. It felt so good that just for a second before he came to his senses and pulled away, he let himself lean into it.
Maggie sighed, moving her hand to his shoulder, tightening her grip when he flinched away. “If you don’t want to take care of yourself, you could let someone else help, you know,” she told him quietly before removing her hand and turning to get the tea that had finished steeping on the counter nearby.
Matt hung his head in shame. He had promised himself he was going to do better about letting people help. And he knew Maggie wanted nothing more than to get closer to him. Why was this so hard? Hadn’t he just promised himself that he was going to be honest? He’d already admitted he wasn’t feeling well, so why was he pulling away when she was just trying to show some concern?
He stood, sneezed heavily, then went to Maggie, holding out a hand in apology. “I'm sorry, Mom,” he said quietly, listening to her heartbeat pick up when she heard the name. “I really wasn’t feeling this bad when I left the house. It’s just hitting me like a ton of bricks right now and it’s hard to let my guard down when I’m fighting sensory overload at the same time. You were right when you said I shouldn’t have come; the crowd in the church nearly did me in and it’s making me jumpy.”
She took his hand and squeezed it in return. “Bless you. And I know you’re trying. It’s just hard to watch you struggle. It’s like you're drowning sometimes and deliberately ignoring the life preservers people are tossing right to you.” She studied his face for a moment. He’d taken his glasses off and he looked so sad and vulnerable she wanted to cry. “Let’s try again. Matthew, you don’t look well. What can I do to help?”
Matt sneezed again, and gave her a wry smile, “A tissue would be nice, and maybe some of that tea? I wouldn’t say no to someplace quiet as well,” he finished, wincing as a door banged nearby.
Maggie blessed him, shook her head, then turned to a cabinet, pulling a box of tissues out. She handed it to him and turned to get the tea, “Well, it’s a start,” she told him, taking his arm and leading him to a small room nearby. She sighed again as she watched him fumble for the chair, trying to reach it on his own with his senses clearly compromised. She finally reached out and guided him to it, frowning when she felt how warm he was through his suit coat. She once again raised her hand to his forehead. This time he didn’t pull away, but let her gauge his temperature for a moment.
“If I gave you some aspirin, would you take it?” She asked him softly, as if afraid of his reaction. Matt felt shame at the thought that she might be worried about how he’d take that. Granted his attitude hadn’t been the best recently and he’d probably given her cause.
“Sure,” he told her with a half smile. “Might help this headache at least.” She gave him another worried frown he couldn’t see, but went to fetch the aspirin before he could change his mind.
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Despite the tea, aspirin, and sympathy from Maggie, Matt was feeling even worse by the minute, it had proved too windy for a picnic, and the church annex was full of the sounds of the children playing, shouting, and laughing. He found himself flinching at every sound.
He was trying to balance not hiding his discomfort from Maggie with not giving in and moaning with how awful he felt and how much his senses were threatening to swamp him. He felt he was losing the battle on both ends and knew he was getting a bit snappish in his responses to Maggie’s innocent inquiries into his week. But he couldn’t seem to stop. Nor could he simply say that enough was enough and that he really ought to go home. He wasn’t even sure who he was trying to prove something to at this point, but he stubbornly denied that things were getting worse and that he needed to leave.
Maggie was having a mental battle of her own. She wanted to yell at him. Tell him that he was being stubborn for no reason. She also wanted to wrap her arms around him and make it all go away for him. Her heart broke to watch him struggle, but they didn’t have the history yet for her to bridge that gap to him.
Finally it was the time Matt normally left, and he heaved a relieved sigh knowing that he could go and bury his head under his pillows soon. He only lived a few blocks from the church, but Maggie insisted on calling a cab for him and after a few minutes, he gave in. He hadn’t been looking forward to that walk with the wind cutting through him again.
While they waited for the cab to arrive, Maggie reached up to cup his face, turning it toward hers. She studied him for a moment then quietly said, “I know you’re going to want to jump right into work tomorrow with both feet. But please, Matthew, let your friends help you and don’t push them away because you’re feeling overwhelmed.” Matt flinched for a second, but nodded. He was feeling overwhelmed. His senses still felt like they were going haywire and he wasn’t sure how best to cope. Maybe giving Foggy and Karen at least a heads up the next day that he might not be operating at his best wasn’t a bad idea.
The cab arrived and Maggie saw him off with an admonishment to let himself rest. He kissed her cheek, promised that he would and that he’d see her next week.
Matt collapsed into the cab, grateful to be heading home. He’d be more grateful if the cabby would turn off that awful pulsing music, but still; he’d be home soon and under his blissfully cool silk sheets. Some ear plugs and another aspirin and he’d be able to sleep.
The next morning Matt woke, hopeful that a good night’s rest had kicked whatever bug he had to the curb, but he discovered this wasn’t true before he even became fully conscious. If anything, he felt worse. Groaning, he sat up and then immediately lay back down as the room swam around him. He lay still for a moment, then tried again. This time he tried pushing through to his feet, but the floor was pitching like a boat on the ocean and he barely managed to sit back down before he went straight to the ground . OK, he thought to himself, his ears were clearly clogged. And no matter how much he loathed it, he was going to need to A) let Foggy know that he wasn’t going to be in, and B) ask someone for help because there was no way he was even getting to the bathroom like this, let alone anywhere else. He considered trying anyway and immediately dismissed the idea when he realized he would likely just end up whacking his head on the sink or toilet and prolonging his misery.
Besides, he’d promised Maggie he would tell his friends he wasn’t feeling great. He’d also promised he’d do better at asking for and accepting help. So, with a deep breath that made him cough harder than he thought possible, Matt picked up the phone to call Foggy. He hoped he’d answer and agree to come over quickly; Matt really needed to pee.
“Do you have any idea what time it is,” Foggy grumbled somewhat good naturedly when he answered the phone. Matt guiltily felt for his watch; 6am. Oops. Well, Foggy would have been up in half an hour anyway.
“Hey Fogs,” he rasped, wincing when he heard how bad he sounded. “I, uh, need some help,” he finished sheepishly.
Foggy sounded wide awake the next time he spoke, “What happened? Are you alright? Were you stabbed again? SHOT?!” Matt could hear the sounds of Foggy frantically scrambling into his clothes while he panicked on the phone.
Matt hastened to explain, “No, no; it’s nothing like that. I’m fine,” he winced at himself then tried again, “OK not fine, but I’m not hurt. I just have the cold from hell and it’s messing with my balance. I can’t even get to the bathroom. I was kind of hoping you could stop by on your way to work and give me a hand. And by the way, I won’t be making it in today either.”
There was a pause on the other end that dragged on for a minute, making Matt uneasy, “Foggy? You still there?”
Finally he heard Foggy laugh, “It’s always something with you isn’t it, Murdock? Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can. You need anything? Tissues? Juice? Soup?”
Matt grinned to himself. “No, I’ll be alright if you can just give me a hand. I think I just need to sleep this off.”
A pause from Foggy followed by an uncertain, “You sure? It’s no trouble.” Now it was Matt’s turn to pause.
“If you’re sure…” he waited for a second to hear Foggy’s exasperated agreement, “Yeah, I could use some tissues and stuff. Not really sure what I even have on hand.”
“On it!” Foggy cheerfully replied, clearly happy that his friend was asking for his help for once. "I’ll be there in 20. Sit tight.”
Matt snorted as he hung up, which triggered another seemingly endless round of sneezing, then fell back on his bed. Sit tight. He couldn’t even sit UP.
He tried meditating for a while hoping to forget some of his discomfort while he waited for Foggy. It wasn’t working.
He desperately needed some tissues and the bathroom, not necessarily in that order, and was contemplating crawling there when he heard the door open and Foggy call out, “I’m here! You decent Murdock?”
“Back here,” Matt yelled. Or tried to; his voice came out even raspier when he tried to raise it. Foggy heard him, though, and stuck his head into the bedroom a minute later. “Well aren’t you a sorry sight,” he teased, coming in to help heave Matt up off the bed, propelling him in the direction of the bathroom. “The mighty Daredevil - felled by the common cold.”
“You’re not funny,” Matt told him, fully desperate now for the bathroom. “Thanks, I can take it from here,” he told his friend when he had hold of the sink. “You sure? I’ll be right outside if you need me, man,” Foggy told him, wisely retreating back to the living room.
Matt figured he should take advantage of the fact that he was in there to get cleaned up as well, and by the time he came out, he found that Foggy had changed the sheets on his bed and made him a cup of tea with honey in it. He began to move toward the couch, then stopped, swaying as his balance gave way again. Thankfully, Foggy noticed and was there to throw an arm around his shoulders, guiding him to the couch. Matt sank onto it gratefully, accepting the tea as well as a full box of ultra-soft tissues and a bag of honey-flavored cough drops.
“Thanks, man,” he told Foggy, “I really appreciate this. I was not looking forward to crawling to the bathroom this morning.”
Foggy laughed, “Think nothing of it; that’s what family’s for. You think you’ll be OK on your own, now?”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll just sack out here for the day. Hopefully kick this thing enough that I can come in and get some work done tomorrow.”
“Alright, I’m gonna take off then, before your germs have a chance to take me down as well,” Foggy replied as he headed for the door.
Matt laughed, “Best of luck; I don’t wish this on anyone. Thanks again, Foggy, really.”
“Anytime. Call if you need anything alright? I’m sure I speak for both Karen and myself when I say that we’d rather help than have you winding up face down in a dumpster with pneumonia or something.” Foggy tried to be lighthearted, but they both sobered at the thought that Matt was just stubborn enough for this scenario to take place.
“I’ll call,” Matt promised, trying to inject some authority into his voice. This wasn’t easy considering how weak and raspy it still was, but Foggy nodded to show he understood and let himself back out.
Matt leaned back on the couch, trying once again to meditate away some of his misery. He didn’t get far before his phone began chanting, “Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie.” Letting him know that he had a call.
Sighing, he grabbed it and tried his best to clear his throat before answering, “Hi, Mom. Checking on me already?”
Maggie’s voice on the other end was amused. “Well, you can’t blame me for wanting to make sure you were alright and getting some rest. You are staying home today, correct?” Matt sighed. Sometimes Maggie sounded exactly like the nun who had terrified him so much as a child. It was a little chilling.
“Yes, Mom, I’m staying home. Foggy dropped off some tissues and cough drops for me, and I’m planning on spending the day meditating and trying to sleep this cold away,” Matt yawned loudly, then began coughing again. He groped for the bag of cough drops.
“Well, I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but I am pleased that you aren’t pushing your friends away.”
“Yeah,” Matt said softly, thinking about where he'd be right now without Foggy. Probably passed out on the bathroom floor with a head injury. “Thanks, Maggie,” he told her.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, knowing that he was thanking her for the advice she had given him the day before. “Get some rest and don’t hesitate to call me if you feel worse; I can come by.”
“I’m sure I’ll be OK, but thanks,” Matt told her, hanging up. He was still miserable, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter quite as much anymore.