Matt was woken by a call from an unknown number at 2am.
“Hello, is this Matthew Murdock?”
“Yes,” Matt croaked.
“It’s Jenny Watson from Metro General. I’m ringing on behalf of Franklin Nelson.”
“Oh, is he okay?” Matt replied, now firmly awake.
“He will be. He’s requesting you come to the Emergency Room as soon as possible.”
“He’s hurt?”
“He’s requested your services as a lawyer.”
Apart from the occasional polite hello in passing, Matt and Foggy had barely spoken since the break up of Murdock & Nelson. Two weeks earlier, the former business partners had bumped into each other on the courthouse steps. It was a brief and awkward exchange. Foggy seemed unnaturally jittery and Matt could detect traces of narcotics on Foggy’s clothing. It had concerned Matt enough that he lurked around Foggy’s workplace and apartment for the next couple of nights, listening for signs that Foggy’s new corporate law job might be a little too fast.
As far as Matt could tell, they were working Foggy to the bone. The nights Matt followed him, Foggy didn’t leave the office until midnight. He’d go home, down a couple of whiskeys while watching television or playing a highly violent video game, and then crash until 6am. He’d be back in the office by 7am. That kind of pace seemed unsustainable - unsustainable for Foggy at least.
Then last week, Matt heard Foggy’s familiar heartbeat across the road from his office. It was faster than usual, but Matt would know the familiar rhythm and the accompanying telltale sigh anywhere. Foggy was wired and stressed. Matt sat completely still at his desk, trying to work out why Foggy would be loitering in the street and staring at their old shared office space in the middle of the day. As Foggy moved away, Matt jumped up from his desk and muttered, “I’ll be back shortly” to his new secretary, Lou. He followed Foggy in super stealth mode, keeping as much space between them as possible.
After five blocks, Foggy entered one of their favourite coffee shops. Matt heard Foggy order a latte and noisily plonk down at a corner table. He waited for a good fifteen minutes before he was confident Foggy wasn’t waiting for anyone. Straightening his tie, he entered the shop and waited in the queue to order. Foggy was probably looking at his phone because it took a full five minutes before his breath hitched as he noticed Matt waiting for two takeaway lattes. Matt put the onus on Foggy to say something. He desperately hoped Foggy would call him over, confide in him, ask for help… anything, but he didn’t want to push just yet. Nothing. Eventually they called ‘Matthew - a latte and a macchiato’ and Matt reluctantly returned to the office with a gift of caffeine for the grateful Lou.
That was a week ago. And now Foggy was in hospital and Matt was being summonsed not as his medical contact, but as his lawyer.
Matt checked in with the ER receptionist and was taken to a cubicle in the far corner. Foggy wasn’t handcuffed but there was a police officer standing ominously beside the bed. Matt introduced himself first to the officer, suggesting he have a coffee break while Matt talked to his client. Client. Matt closed his eyes as he said the word.
When Matt was confident the officer was beyond the reach of regular hearing, he slowly approached Foggy’s bed. “Foggy? I got a call asking me to come down here as your lawyer. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Matt could hear Foggy rustle uncomfortably in the bed. “You should probably turn the voice recorder on first,” Foggy suggested in a weak voice.
“Yes, I will,” Matt said absently, not wanting to dwell on the fact that looking after the voice recorder used to be Foggy’s job. “I just – are you okay?”
“I’m in the hospital with broken ribs and a boot mark on my head. No, Matt, I’m not okay,” Foggy said witheringly.
Matt swallowed. This wasn’t the best start.
“Ah, okay. I think I should turn this on then.” Matt fumbled with the voice recorder until Foggy said in a resigned voice, “give it to me.”
Matt handed it over and sat down next to Foggy’s bed, opening his laptop to take notes.
“Do you want me to take notes?” Foggy said hesitantly. “You know, for old time’s sake.”
“No… thanks. I need to take the notes this time.” As soon as he heard the click of the voice recorder, Matt said, “so what are you being charged with?”
“Possession.”
“Of?”
“An illegal substance.”
“And how much did you have on you at the time?”
“Enough for… um, it was enough for personal use.”
Matt nodded, “and how did they come to find the dru –er, substance?”
“I was accosted by some thugs. They beat me unconscious. When I woke up I was in here and the police had been called. That’s it.”
“What did the assailants want?”
“It was related to a case. I can’t say any more.”
“Did they take anything? Your wallet?”
“No.”
Matt paused. “Were the drugs yours?”
Foggy swallowed, but didn’t speak.
“Okay, let’s put it this way: were the drugs planted on you while you were unconscious?”
Foggy said miserably, “they did a drug screen, Matt.”
“And it came back-”
“Positive.”
Matt had already deduced it, but it was quite another thing to have Foggy admit it in person.
“Why?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question. Please, Matt. I know we haven’t spoken lately, but I know you’ll give it your best shot.... Plus you owe me.”
Matt frowned.
“Okay, forget the owing bit. Just – just help me okay?”
“Of course.” Matt closed his laptop. “They said you’ll probably be released from hospital tomorrow. The police aren’t going to take you into custody, but they’ll want us to go into the station to make a formal statement. I can come to your place if you’d like to prepare. Or you could come to – ah, my office. I’m still-“
“I know.”
Matt sighed. “Do you need any help getting home?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Just broken ribs after all. It’s a mere scratch for you.”
Matt didn’t react to the jab.
“Right. Well call me if you need anything.” Matt quickly stashed his laptop and voice recorder and hightailed it before Foggy even thought to ask how Matt was going.
“Thanks for coming,” Foggy said as they sat at Foggy’s kitchen table the next day. “I’m just a bit sore and the idea of-”
Matt waved him off. “I understand.” Matt suspected that the physical pain was only part of the reason Foggy requested they meet at his home rather than the office. The break up of the firm was still a sore spot for both of them.
Matt couldn’t bring himself to get another partner after Nelson & Murdock had disbanded, and Foggy’s old office was a constant reminder of his mistakes. He was certain that abandoning his law practice and his friends was the only way to go, but almost immediately after Elektra died, he’d realised what a fool he’d been. Everything Matthew Murdock had worked so hard to create was gone, and he couldn’t help but think about his father and how disappointed he’d be if he knew he’d chosen fists over books. But by then it was too late to ask Foggy for forgiveness (again), so he renewed the lease on their office and reluctantly replaced the Nelson & Murdock street front sign with ‘Matthew Murdock, Attorney at Law’.
They went over the charges and together they walked down to the police station to clarify the previous night’s events. It was a strange feeling to be entering the building together once again, made stranger still by the fact that Foggy was Matt’s client.
“Remember, I do the talking,” Matt said firmly as they made their way to the front desk.
“Do you want to grab a drink or something?” Foggy said awkwardly as they exited the police station.
“I should probably get back to the office,” Matt said quietly. “Have you spoken to Hogarth?”
“About the charges? No, but word is bound to get around. They know I’ve taken the day off. I’ll – I guess I’ll do some work from home.”
“Take the day off, Fog,” Matt said kindly.
Matt’s solitary dinner was interrupted by a frantic knocking. He flicked off the radio and recognised Foggy’s huffing from the other side of the door.
Foggy wobbled through the door as soon it opened.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt said, catching Foggy as he fell.
“Shouldn’t you be out beating shumone up?” Foggy slurred.
“Can I get you a glass of water? Here, sit down on the couch,” Matt said as he half led, half carried Foggy over to his couch. He returned with a glass of water, which he insisted Foggy drink immediately.
“So, do you want to tell me why you’re here, drunk off your nuts merely a day after being charged with possession?” Matt said bluntly.
“I always thought it would be the other way round, you know?” Foggy said introspectively. “I thought I’d be representing the great Daredevil in all his bloody glory.”
“Fog, please. Not now.”
“No really, why aren’t you out there? I thought it was the most important thing in the world.”
“I- I don’t do that anymore,” Matt said.
“Pfft. It’s me, Matt. I know your secret.”
“I gave it up. After our firm folded, I realised I’d make a mistake. Dare- my activities put people in danger and I lost my only true friend.”
“After our firm…” Foggy repeated. “So you put me through all that hell and then you decide after everything’s ruined that I was actually right? Fucking hell, Matt.” Foggy tried to get up to leave.
“Stay,” Matt said firmly, pushing him back onto the couch. “You can’t afford to be picked up by the police. What have you taken anyway?” He sniffed. “Is it just booze?”
“So high and mighty,” Foggy sneered.
“Fuck, Foggy. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to undo everything,” Foggy said stubbornly.
“What, like time?”
“Mmm yes.”
Matt snorted derisively.
“Don’t your magic powers do that for you?” Foggy said, losing his balance on the couch as he waved an imaginary wand. “Or is it just the ability to screw up your life and the lives around you?”
“I think you managed to do that to yourself this time,” Matt said coldly. He stood up and tried to change tune. “Can I get you some food? I’ve got some extra curry if you’d like.”
Foggy sat there sullenly.
“No? Okay, well I’m going to finish eating. Let me know if you change your mind. And here,” Matt handed Foggy a fresh glass of water. “Drink it.”
Matt returned to his dinner, anxious about the silence between them. Foggy’s wordlessness soon grew into snoring as he fell asleep on the couch. Matt distracted himself by reading a book for a bit, but eventually threw a blanket over Foggy, placed a bucket strategically next to the couch, and went to bed early.
Foggy woke up as Matt was finishing breakfast. “Matt? What- why?”
Matt strode over and placed an egg and bacon roll on the coffee table next to Foggy’s head. “Hangover food. Want coffee?”
Foggy was momentarily dumbfounded. “Ah, yes. But-”
“You turned up on my doorstep drunk and then feel asleep on the couch.”
Foggy nodded and sunk back down into the couch.
“You probably want something for that headache,” Matt said, rifling through his first aid kit.
“Matt, I can explain.”
“No need,” Matt said crisply. He handed Foggy a couple of aspirin and a coffee. “I’m heading to the office. If you want a shower, towels are in the- well, you know. Lock the door behind you.”
Foggy turned up drunk again that night. Matt sighed, but refrained from saying anything as he helped Foggy to the couch. He placed a glass of water in Foggy’s hand. “Drink,” he ordered.
“You’re one to talk,” Foggy slurred.
“I never got drunk,” Matt pointed out, and then regretted it. Now was not the time.
“They fired me, Matt,” Foggy said, changing tune. “Half the people in that place are snorting this or that, but they turn a blind eye. In fact, I think they encourage it to get people to work longer hours.”
“But you got caught, so they fired you,” Matt deduced.
“Apparently it’s not in keeping with their corporate image.” Foggy spoke in a high singsong voice, in imitation of Hogarth.
“I’m sorry, Foggy. I really am. You don’t deserve this.”
“It was my choice to take the drugs in the first place,” Foggy pointed out. “I’m not trying to blame anyone, but it was so normalised -so part of the culture. And the hours… you wouldn’t believe it, Matt. It made our internship at L&Z look like a vacation.”
Matt perched on the edge of the couch, a safe distance from Foggy. “Stay the night if you want,” he offered, the only helpful thing he could really suggest for now. He patted the blanket that was neatly folded on the couch. “The blanket’s still here from last night.”
“Thanks.” Foggy shifted on the couch, wincing slightly.
“You okay? Do you need some aspirin?”
“How do you do it, Matt? You go out-”
“Used to-”
“Used to go out with broken ribs all the time. No whingeing. Nothing.”
“I had my distractions,” Matt said nonchalantly. “Seriously, take the aspirin,” Matt said, raiding the first aid kit once more.
“You’re one to speak,” Foggy muttered.
Matt looked taken aback at the sudden jibe. “And with that, I’m going to bed. ‘Night, Fog.”
Foggy awoke once again to the smell of bacon and eggs. “You on a health kick or something?” he croaked.
“This is for you,” Matt replied.
“Oh… thanks.”
Matt hurried over with a coffee and an entire packet of aspirin. “Keep the packet.”
“Are you eating or is this artery-clogging food just for me?”
Matt responded by wandering over with two egg and bacon rolls. Foggy moved aside on the couch and they ate in silence. After they’d eaten, Foggy brushed the crumbs off his shirt onto the floor and received a glare most horrid from Matt.
“I’ll vacuum,” Foggy snapped.
“No need.”
Foggy hung his head as Matt took the plates and washed the dishes. After a lengthy silence, Foggy said, “that relish was nice.”
“Thanks, I made it.”
“You made relish?”
“It’s not hard. Finding the glass jars was the hard part, but I managed to get some from people at church. They’d give me a jar and I’d return it filled with relish.”
“Church,” Foggy repeated in a small voice. “So is that what you’re doing now instead of Daredevil? Preserving stuff and going to church?”
“Pretty much. I’m also training for the New York marathon – I have to hold a rope tied to a guide or some such bullshit. Oh and I’ve started volunteering at the blind society. They helped me when I was a kid so I figured it’s the least I can do.”
Foggy sighed. He felt even worse now. While he’d become a drug addict, Matt had gone from vigilante to good Samaritan.
As Matt dried his hands on the tea towel, Foggy said, “are you going to work now?”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Oh, yeah. Um, I guess I’d better get going anyway. Stuff to do, you know…”
“You’re not going to hit the bottle again, are you?”
“No,” Foggy said indignantly, struggling to his feet with a groan. “And I don’t appreciate the judgement thank you very much.” He wished he could properly read the expression on Matt’s face. He thought he glimpsed a look of hurt, but Matt just pursed his lips and led Foggy to the door. As Foggy started down the stairs, Matt called out, “if you’re at a loose end, you’re welcome here. Any time. You know that, right?”
Foggy stared at his stone-faced friend, not sure if Matt was offering out of charity or whether he genuinely cared. “Uh…” But then Matt gave him a tentative smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Matt.”
Foggy stayed away all weekend, determined to prove to Matt that he wasn’t broken and needy. Over the last year, he’d thought of himself as the responsible one, the reliable friend and business partner that kept things together despite Matt’s crazy behaviour and reckless vigilante activities. At least Matt’s Daredevil activities had actually helped people though, Foggy thought as he poured himself another glass of cheap whiskey. He’d just fallen into a spiral of self-pitying drug abuse.
Matt stood against the wall of Foggy’s apartment block late Sunday afternoon, listening to the clunk of the whiskey bottle on Foggy’s glass lounge table. He’d counted four clunks over the last hour, each one significantly lower in pitch as the bottle emptied. At this rate, Foggy would be unconscious within the next hour. It’d be irresponsible to let it get that far, even though Foggy would probably be peeved if he knew Matt was stalking him. He gripped his cane tight and started up the stairs to Foggy’s apartment.
Foggy didn’t respond to Matt’s first knock. Matt could hear him in there, holding his breath, trying not to move. “Come on, Foggy. You know I can hear you in there. You don’t have to hide.”
There was a shuffling and clinking as Foggy stashed the whiskey in a cupboard and wobbled his way towards the door. “You’re checking up on me now?”
“Of course. I’m worried about you.”
“Because you really care,” Foggy said witheringly. “Or is this part of your new Catholic charity persona?”
“That’s not fair, Foggy.”
“Life’s not fair,” Foggy scowled.
Matt thought for a moment. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this sudden hate. A couple of days ago you called me. I came. And not because I’m Catholic, but because you’re my friend.”
Foggy gripped the doorframe to balance himself and slurred, “I thought you said you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. You broke up with me.”
“I told you to move on with the business without me,” Matt pointed out. “I never said we weren’t friends anymore.”
“And I told you they went hand in hand.”
“Your words. Not mine,” Matt said softly, but Foggy could see Matt’s hands gripping the top of his cane so tight his knuckles were growing white. Matt finally put one hand out to Foggy, “I understand you’re drinking to cope with the withdrawal. You need something to replace the high - or at least distract you - is that right?”
“You don’t understand shit.”
“Actually, I think I understand better than you think. Um, can I come in?”
Foggy hesitated, but eventually stood aside. Matt wandered in, depositing his cane at the front door as he passed.
“Uh, do you mind if I have a cup of tea?” Matt asked, determined to also get some kind of non-alcoholic fluid into Foggy.
Foggy waved his hand in a silent, do what you want, and plonked himself on the couch. Matt returned with two mugs and deposited Foggy’s on the living room table when Foggy refused it.
Matt perched himself on the edge of the couch, hugging his cup and looking deeply uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, “you know how I said I enjoyed going out as Daredevil-”
“Hitting people,” Foggy interrupted.
“That’s an exceedingly negative way of putting it. Look, I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy fighting people. But mostly, it was great exercise, both physical and mental. Tracking people down, finding links between criminal groups, finding the leaders, disrupting supply… it was a mental challenge as much as a physical one.”
“You’re trying to rationalise hitting people,” Foggy said.
Matt shrugged. “What I’m getting at is that when I stopped, I missed the endorphins from the exercise and the fights, as well as the mental challenge. My mood spiralled and I’ve been struggling ever since.”
“You don’t seem depressed.”
Matt frowned and said, “maybe not to you.”
“You have it all together – your law firm, your relish, your charity work, your marathon, your church stuff. I mean, it’s like you’re gunning for sainthood.”
“Pfft. Hardly.”
Foggy leaned forward and grabbed the mug of tea in an obvious conciliatory gesture.
They sipped their tea in silence until Matt said, “why don’t you come back to my place. We can get some Thai food, a movie. Bring your pyjamas if you want. I think it’d be good for you – for both of us – to have some company at the moment.” Foggy didn’t say anything straight away, so Matt prompted, “I’m serious when I said it’d be good for both of us. What do you think?”
“Okay,” Foggy said cautiously.
They relaxed into each other’s company relatively easily that evening, particularly after the effects of Foggy’s cheap whiskey started wearing off. By the time they sat down to watch the movie and Foggy automatically started narrating the visuals, it felt like old times.
The awkwardness returned the next day when Foggy woke up on the couch to find Matt straightening his tie. “Hey,” Foggy said. “You going to work?” He immediately felt stupid for asking such a redundant question.
“Yeah, you can stay here if you want. There’s coffee ready in the kitchen, bread in the – well, you know all that…”
Foggy sat up and glanced over at the coffee machine. He needed that.
“There’s a fresh box of Aspirin in the first aid kit,” Matt added, remembering Foggy was probably hungover. “Uh, do you have any plans for the day?”
“Well, I’m unemployed and charged with possession, so I guess not.”
“I’m going to see if the charges can be dropped today.”
“I’ll come.”
“I think it might be best if I go alone,” Matt said delicately.
“But-”
“Trust me. I have a plan.”
Foggy slumped a little at the thought of the empty day ahead of him. “Can I come into the office with you? I can help address envelopes or something.”
“I have a secretary, Foggy.”
“I could review documents, or whatever you don’t want to do.”
Matt could hear the change in tone, the lift in Foggy’s voice as he begged to help. There was no way he could say no. “You can come into the office, but, er, bring a book.”
Foggy scrambled off the couch. “Towels under the sink, right?”
“Yeah, but-”
“What?”
Matt shrugged on his suit jacket. “I’ll meet you there. I have an early appointment.”
Foggy shook his head as he made his way to the bathroom. Matthew Murdock, early appointment – who would have thought it possible...
Foggy rocked up at the office just as Matt’s client was leaving.
“You got a new sign for the door,” Foggy said quietly.
Matt opened his mouth to apologise or whatever the hell he was meant to do. “Yeah, the paper one was a bit hard to read. Lou says the writing is gold.” Subtext: that used to be your job.
“It looks good.”
Matt pointedly introduced Lou to Foggy as his friend, former business partner and college roommate. Foggy made the error of commenting, “so you’re the new Karen. That’s some big shoes to fill.” He turned to look at Matt who gave him a murderous look in exchange. “It’s nice to meet you,” Foggy added, blushing.
“I guess I’ll go into my old office then.” Foggy started towards the room.
“I was thinking maybe the conference room would be better,” Matt said. “We’re kinda using y- that room for documents and equipment.
“Oh, of course.” Foggy suddenly realised that the reason the office seemed so different was not his absence, but rather the absence of the paraphernalia that seemed to define the old Nelson & Murdock (and Page) office. The filing cabinets were largely gone, as was the printer, the photocopier, the fans… there was even an air conditioner in the corner. The kitchen was tidy, with only a couple of canisters, a kettle, and a shiny new coffee machine sitting on the bench. It used to be a jumble of boxes, takeaway containers and donated pastries. Matt must have sensed Foggy’s judgement, because he stuttered, “I-I’d best keep working. Help yourself to tea, coffee… Lou makes a great espresso if you want one.” Matt smiled at Lou, who muttered a shy “thanks” in return.
Foggy didn’t have a book with him, so he pulled one of the legal texts off the shelf in the conference room. He remembered buying them cheap as ‘decoration’ when they set up their firm. The law had changed many times since they were published making them pretty useless, but as Foggy had pointed out, their presence gave the firm an air of authority. When he left for Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz, he no longer needed that false authority, so when Matt said he was keeping the lease on the office, Foggy was happy to not have to move the heavy tomes. Now he was just happy for the distraction.
Matt could hear Foggy absently turning pages in the conference room. He tried to concentrate on the document in front of him, but he was hyperaware of Foggy’s obvious boredom. After about an hour, Matt appeared in the doorway with a printed document. “You could go through this and highlight any passages that refer to Maisel, Smith or Krauss. If you want something to do, that is.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’d be – please.”
Matt placed the stack of paper and a highlighter in front of Foggy. “It goes without saying that this is confidential.”
Foggy stared at Matt, deeply offended. Of course he knew it was confidential.
“I’m going out. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” And without further explanation, Matt gathered up his briefcase and left.
When Matt returned, he had a broad grin on his face. He closed the conference door behind him and said, “Guess what? I got the charges dropped.”
Foggy’s jaw dropped. “You what?!”
“I pointed out that you were the victim of a violent crime and there was no way they could prove beyond reasonable doubt that you weren’t drugged by the assailants. You’re a defense lawyer, Foggy, with many enemies, some of whom might want to frame you.”
“Oh my god, Matt. You’re the-” Foggy broke off, jumping up to hug the stunned Matt before openly weeping into his shoulder. He finally pulled away, “you’re the best.”
Matt ducked his head, hesitant about what he was going to say next. “I was thinking – and I totally understand if you say no – I was thinking maybe you’d like to give Nelson & Murdock another go. A fresh start for both of us.”
“What about the printing and filing room?”
Matt pulled a face. “You’re seriously worried about the filing cabinets?’
Foggy gave a teary, snotty laugh. “When you put it that way, I guess not. The printer might want revenge though.”
“So it that a yes?”
Foggy held out a hand to Matt, and they shook with a smile. “Nelson & Murdock,” Matt said.
“Are you sure you don’t want Murdock & Nelson? It’s your firm I’m joining after all.”
“Nelson & Murdock just had a brief hiatus,” Matt pointed out. “And if you want a first post-hiatus task, you could always get our old sign out of your office.”
“My office,” Foggy repeated softly. “I can’t believe you kept the sign.”
“Of course. Now come on, let’s tell Lou that she’s now working for Nelson & Murdock-”
“Avocados at law,” Foggy finished.
Matt grinned, held his hand out for a fist bump, and echoed, “avocados at law.”