[Damn if. That's more than a little unfortunate. He liked that apartment, for all its flaws. It was his. And the realization of the fact that he's now a bit on the homeless side isn't lost on Matt. He'll make do. He always has thus far anyway. Of course this is the first time he's coming back from 'the dead' so there may be some adjustment.
Still it makes the ground beneath his feet feel less steady, metaphorically, and he's more grateful than ever for Foggy's presence. And maybe Foggy is right about the fact that any trap this might have been would have been a lot of trouble to get to him, but as important as he is to Matt, Matt can't quite silence the worrying. Too much pain and suffering or worse have happened to the people he loves, too often because of him. That thought makes him wonder if perhaps it would've been better if he stayed 'dead' and never went that text. The selfish part of him, however, needed -- still needs -- this.
Even if he doesn't need the guidance, even if they both are fully aware he doesn't, he reaches out to take that offered elbow, fingers curling about his arm securely.
He's being too quiet and he knows it, too tangled up in the mess of his thoughts.]
[Just outside the church, as Foggy pushes the church doors open, is Hell's Kitchen, moving on around them, unmindful and uncaring of the world-shaking revelations Foggy's just had to deal with again. There should be a law or something, he thinks—at the very least the world should be courteous enough to slow down a little so he can process everything that's happened in the past half-hour or so.
Matt's back. That's good, great, even, the grief that's been weighing heavy on his heart since Matt's "death" has lightened considerably, even with the added confusion and hurt. Of course now they have to figure out everything else, it's going to be a bureaucratic nightmare, Foggy can feel it in his bones.
But first:]
What happened? Cage didn't really say much and, uh, the last time I talked to Jones she kinda threw me out of her office. [She was hungover, he can't blame her.]
[There is an uncomfortably long stretch of silence in response to that question as they walk, as if Matt is considering clamming up on the subject already in some vaguely futile effort to keep Foggy out of it. But... shouldn't it be over? That particular danger? And, more importantly, doesn't Foggy deserve to know anyway?]
Well. That does sound like them. [But joking aside, he continues on, more seriously.]
We were making our last stand against the Hand, to take down what was left of them before the leveled the entire city. The explosives went off before they should have. [He knew, had realized with enough time to give the others warning enough to get out, and he'd stayed. Trying to... He shakes his head as if to dislodge those thoughts.] I didn't make it out in time.
[It's most of the story.] Next thing I knew I was waking up... elsewhere. Don't know how I got there. I don't even know how long I've been gone. Everything's a blur after the building started coming down.
Team up with Spider-man, next time, I want his autograph.
[It's a bad joke, and Foggy winces a little when it's out. Next time—optimistically, there shouldn't be one. There isn't much danger for either of them anymore, the shadowy evil organization behind Midland Circle went down with the building, and Fisk is currently in jail, and Castle's dead. Or at least Foggy's pretty sure Castle's dead, but if Matt came back then honestly, he wouldn't put it past the Punisher to do so.
A shaky, ragged breath. The funny thing about grief is that it hits you at the most unexpected times, and for Foggy it had been—in the middle of Matt's apartment, getting his stuff out, long after the funeral. An old echo of the grief hits him once more, because when he thinks about it, there wasn't any reason for Matt to not make it back with the other three. No other reason than Matt's thing for self-sacrifice.
It stings to know that. At the end of it, there was the city, and there was a life, and Matt chose the city. Would choose the city, Foggy knows now, every time.]
You've been gone for two months. [Enough time for Foggy to tidy up his affairs and a new tenant to move in, not enough time for grieving.] Karen's been—well, we've all been better. [Karen's been holding out hope. Foggy—hasn't, really.] So where were you for those two months? Because—
[He cuts himself off, the old anger rearing its ugly head again. They're still in public, Foggy's not going to yell at Matt for not contacting them earlier in a public setting. Instead he settles for a quieter yet still raw question:]
Really? The guy calls himself 'spider-man.' [Says the guy who calls himself Daredevil, but there's enough self awareness in him that the remark is self deprecating, accompanied by a laugh and a shake of his head. It's not lost on him though. Next time. The Hand should be gone. Fisk is gone. But Matt knows with a sinking sense of certainty that there will always be something, someone else, slipping in to fill the void. It's a never ending tide, ebbing and flowing, beaten back only to crash on shore again and again.
It's exhausting. But he's starting to wonder. Two months. Matt Murdock has been dead two months. Maybe he should stay dead. That would leave more time for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to live. But that feels cold too somehow.
The pain and anger that he can hear in Foggy's voice strike him all at once, pull him from those thoughts back to the present. To the other man beside him, whose arm he still grips.]
In and out of consciousness, mostly. Finding my feet, literally. [His grip at Foggy's arm tightens.] And then... I didn't know what to say. If you'd even want to hear from me, after everything. [With what Matt had put him through, had put everyone through.] But I missed you. [In the end, he has his weaknesses.]
[Says Daredevil. He'd have said it, once, with a snort of laughter and a shake of his head at the sheer ridiculousness of the name—better, slightly, than the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but still. Foggy can't quite hold back a quiet huff of laughter, still, but the joke's not there.
Next time. There's always one, isn't there? And after this time he's not sure how he feels about that, considering that this time ended in Matt's death (or "death"). What if next time's the one that sticks? He's already done the grieving thing once, he's not sure he can go through it again, and if Matt pulls this again he's pretty sure he wouldn't be so quick to run down here.
But he missed Matt. Has been missing Matt, for a while now, before Midland Circle happened.]
...if you texted me just a few weeks earlier than this you'd still have your apartment. [And he'd have felt this relief earlier, instead of diligently avoiding the shit out of where Midland Circle used to stand for two months.] I'm just saying, I'd have loved to hear anything from you, if it meant you weren't dead.
[And he's not, and Foggy feels stupidly giddy with relief, but at the same time it's like the rug's been yanked out from under him, again. That's, what, the second time in two months?]
I missed you. I mourned you for months, I thought—
[I thought I lost you. He swallows back the words.]
No worries! I was super happy to see the notif in my inbox :D
[It physically hurts to hear the words. And it's not like Matt didn't know. He knew. He knows. He knows he put the few people in this world who care about him through hell. Foggy most of all, he thinks. For all that there's been a strained distance between them -- his doing, he reminds himself, because of his own choices -- Foggy is the closest thing he has to family.
That was why it was harder than it ought to have been to work up the courage to reach out and text him. He knows everyone thought him dead. He knows Foggy has been mourning. Months. And is it really fair of Matt to just show up alive again? Interrupt the natural cycle of grief?
His grip on Foggy's arm tightens, like he's half afraid Foggy will come to his senses and pull aaay from him. There are no dark glasses to hide the wounded look in his eyes.]
I know. I'm sorry, Foggy.
[He honestly is, genuinely repentant. But he also knows he can't make promises about it never happening gain. He tried that, tried to give up being the Devil, but look how that turned out.
A pause, a moment of quiet before he adds,] I thought about just... disappearing. I thought about letting Matthew Murdock stay dead. Maybe it would've been better. [Always the goddamned martyr. Someone needs to slap him for it someday.] But I couldn't.
[They maybe need to work out a better system than just typing I'm actually alive and praying for the best. A system Foggy does not ever want to use because once is enough, okay, once felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut with a rusty knife even if he'd known, in the abstract sense, that it would come one day.
He should come to his senses. He should tell Matt to just leave and lose his number. He should do those things, but he can't, because the last time they parted ways Matt ended up under a crumbling building and Foggy ended up feeling hollowed out and so, so alone in the aftermath.
And, Jesus Christ, it's that wounded puppy look again. Whatever resolve Foggy had left crumbles, and all he's left with is exhaustion and the smoldering embers of his anger.]
I'm glad we're out of the church, because now I can say this—that would've been even more of a dick move. [A huff, and he shakes his head.] Stop trying to be a martyr, Matt. You have friends who can help you out, people who can take up some of this burden that you're so determined to carry. You have a life.
[They stop at a stoplight. Cars pass, people walk by, and the world has not slowed down for either of them.]
And as pissed as I am about thinking you were dead for two months? I'm glad you're not, and that you didn't throw away this second chance, because [and he sucks in a breath, suddenly unsteady] you're family. And, at the risk of sounding repetitive, I really did miss you.
[He wouldn't have called first, before Midland Circle was even relevant to his life, if he didn't.]
[Facebook check-in? ...if this comes up later, Matt Murdock is probably just terrible enough to make that joke. Right now though, he's at least still feeling uncertain, on his own two feet, and what the ground between him and Foggy must look like (solid ground or something less certain, like thinning ice). And honestly Matt does't want there to be another time, doesn't want to put Foggy through this again.
He can't exactly refute being called a martyr either. Protests of not intending to die sound downright shallow and stupid, given how close he's come, how often.]
I think I've already asked more than is fair...
[He's willingly taken it on, but people like Karen, Claire, Foggy -- Foggy most of all, he thinks -- he's dragged them into this. Matt probably has more dumb things to say, but he stops, silent at family. To hear it said out loud, after everything.
And he's trying (and failing) to hold back, blink back, a few tears that make their way from his eyes down his cheeks. Stupid eyes. He hopes maybe Foggy won't see. But it's hard to help it. Every now and again he feels like the lost kid all on his own, back at the orphanage.
Pull it together, Murdock. The excuse of coming back from the dead only gets you so far.] Thank you.
[Oh. Oh, he's crying, now Foggy just feels terrible, and it takes him a minute to decide—fuck it, fine, they've had some very shitty months (a very shitty year) and he needs this, as much as Matt does. He tugs Matt closer, to pull him into a hug on the corner right there, and if Foggy shuts his eyes and shakes a little as well, like he's scared and on the verge of having an embarrassing cry too, well, that's really just for the two of them to know.
They're probably getting weird looks. Foggy can't quite bring himself to care about that. His best friend just came back from the dead, and they're trying to put something new together out of the ruins of what they used to have, he's allowed to have this much, surely.
He maybe cries a little too, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. Shush.
Just keep coming back, that's all I want. But the thing about miracles is that they're only one time.]
Just—say something, Matt. That's all I ask. [It's all he can ask. He's not stupid, he knows he can't get Matt to stop being Daredevil any more than Matt could once get him to stop snoring, way back in college. (And he did try to stop him, so many times.)] If you ever need any help, just say it. You're not the only one defending Hell's Kitchen anymore.
[Yup. His eyes have finally decided to contribute, and this is what they've got. Thanks, eyes. Very helpful.
Matt feels Foggy moving before the contact happens, but it still catches him off guard somehow by the hug. They're in the middle of the street after all, but Matt... Mat doesn't care. He can't bring himself to care, instead hugging Foggy back tightly, like he doesn't plan on letting go any time soon.
He will. He's a practical man. They'll need to move eventually.
But he feels the way that Foggy shakes, and it makes his heart ache where it's beating in his chest.]
Yeah... Okay. [He can do that, he thinks. He can try. He can try to be more honest with the people who matter, to not insist on taking on everything on his own. So maybe he can actually start right now.] I need help, Foggy. Now. I'm not.... [He's not sure what to do. Where to go. How to begin again. The only thing he knew was that he needed to talk to Foggy, like that would help him find his direction, like the other man has always been the true north of his internal compass.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sightlessly) wrote2017-08-27 08:16 am
Foggy (cigarbribery)
[Damn if. That's more than a little unfortunate. He liked that apartment, for all its flaws. It was his. And the realization of the fact that he's now a bit on the homeless side isn't lost on Matt. He'll make do. He always has thus far anyway. Of course this is the first time he's coming back from 'the dead' so there may be some adjustment.
Still it makes the ground beneath his feet feel less steady, metaphorically, and he's more grateful than ever for Foggy's presence. And maybe Foggy is right about the fact that any trap this might have been would have been a lot of trouble to get to him, but as important as he is to Matt, Matt can't quite silence the worrying. Too much pain and suffering or worse have happened to the people he loves, too often because of him. That thought makes him wonder if perhaps it would've been better if he stayed 'dead' and never went that text. The selfish part of him, however, needed -- still needs -- this.
Even if he doesn't need the guidance, even if they both are fully aware he doesn't, he reaches out to take that offered elbow, fingers curling about his arm securely.
He's being too quiet and he knows it, too tangled up in the mess of his thoughts.]
Thanks, Foggy.
no subject
[Just outside the church, as Foggy pushes the church doors open, is Hell's Kitchen, moving on around them, unmindful and uncaring of the world-shaking revelations Foggy's just had to deal with again. There should be a law or something, he thinks—at the very least the world should be courteous enough to slow down a little so he can process everything that's happened in the past half-hour or so.
Matt's back. That's good, great, even, the grief that's been weighing heavy on his heart since Matt's "death" has lightened considerably, even with the added confusion and hurt. Of course now they have to figure out everything else, it's going to be a bureaucratic nightmare, Foggy can feel it in his bones.
But first:]
What happened? Cage didn't really say much and, uh, the last time I talked to Jones she kinda threw me out of her office. [She was hungover, he can't blame her.]
no subject
Well. That does sound like them. [But joking aside, he continues on, more seriously.]
We were making our last stand against the Hand, to take down what was left of them before the leveled the entire city. The explosives went off before they should have. [He knew, had realized with enough time to give the others warning enough to get out, and he'd stayed. Trying to... He shakes his head as if to dislodge those thoughts.] I didn't make it out in time.
[It's most of the story.] Next thing I knew I was waking up... elsewhere. Don't know how I got there. I don't even know how long I've been gone. Everything's a blur after the building started coming down.
no subject
[It's a bad joke, and Foggy winces a little when it's out. Next time—optimistically, there shouldn't be one. There isn't much danger for either of them anymore, the shadowy evil organization behind Midland Circle went down with the building, and Fisk is currently in jail, and Castle's dead. Or at least Foggy's pretty sure Castle's dead, but if Matt came back then honestly, he wouldn't put it past the Punisher to do so.
A shaky, ragged breath. The funny thing about grief is that it hits you at the most unexpected times, and for Foggy it had been—in the middle of Matt's apartment, getting his stuff out, long after the funeral. An old echo of the grief hits him once more, because when he thinks about it, there wasn't any reason for Matt to not make it back with the other three. No other reason than Matt's thing for self-sacrifice.
It stings to know that. At the end of it, there was the city, and there was a life, and Matt chose the city. Would choose the city, Foggy knows now, every time.]
You've been gone for two months. [Enough time for Foggy to tidy up his affairs and a new tenant to move in, not enough time for grieving.] Karen's been—well, we've all been better. [Karen's been holding out hope. Foggy—hasn't, really.] So where were you for those two months? Because—
[He cuts himself off, the old anger rearing its ugly head again. They're still in public, Foggy's not going to yell at Matt for not contacting them earlier in a public setting. Instead he settles for a quieter yet still raw question:]
Why text me just now?
no subject
It's exhausting. But he's starting to wonder. Two months. Matt Murdock has been dead two months. Maybe he should stay dead. That would leave more time for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen to live. But that feels cold too somehow.
The pain and anger that he can hear in Foggy's voice strike him all at once, pull him from those thoughts back to the present. To the other man beside him, whose arm he still grips.]
In and out of consciousness, mostly. Finding my feet, literally. [His grip at Foggy's arm tightens.] And then... I didn't know what to say. If you'd even want to hear from me, after everything. [With what Matt had put him through, had put everyone through.] But I missed you. [In the end, he has his weaknesses.]
pretend this is not late welp.....
Next time. There's always one, isn't there? And after this time he's not sure how he feels about that, considering that this time ended in Matt's death (or "death"). What if next time's the one that sticks? He's already done the grieving thing once, he's not sure he can go through it again, and if Matt pulls this again he's pretty sure he wouldn't be so quick to run down here.
But he missed Matt. Has been missing Matt, for a while now, before Midland Circle happened.]
...if you texted me just a few weeks earlier than this you'd still have your apartment. [And he'd have felt this relief earlier, instead of diligently avoiding the shit out of where Midland Circle used to stand for two months.] I'm just saying, I'd have loved to hear anything from you, if it meant you weren't dead.
[And he's not, and Foggy feels stupidly giddy with relief, but at the same time it's like the rug's been yanked out from under him, again. That's, what, the second time in two months?]
I missed you. I mourned you for months, I thought—
[I thought I lost you. He swallows back the words.]
No worries! I was super happy to see the notif in my inbox :D
That was why it was harder than it ought to have been to work up the courage to reach out and text him. He knows everyone thought him dead. He knows Foggy has been mourning. Months. And is it really fair of Matt to just show up alive again? Interrupt the natural cycle of grief?
His grip on Foggy's arm tightens, like he's half afraid Foggy will come to his senses and pull aaay from him. There are no dark glasses to hide the wounded look in his eyes.]
I know. I'm sorry, Foggy.
[He honestly is, genuinely repentant. But he also knows he can't make promises about it never happening gain. He tried that, tried to give up being the Devil, but look how that turned out.
A pause, a moment of quiet before he adds,] I thought about just... disappearing. I thought about letting Matthew Murdock stay dead. Maybe it would've been better. [Always the goddamned martyr. Someone needs to slap him for it someday.] But I couldn't.
thaaaank also do u have a plurk
He should come to his senses. He should tell Matt to just leave and lose his number. He should do those things, but he can't, because the last time they parted ways Matt ended up under a crumbling building and Foggy ended up feeling hollowed out and so, so alone in the aftermath.
And, Jesus Christ, it's that wounded puppy look again. Whatever resolve Foggy had left crumbles, and all he's left with is exhaustion and the smoldering embers of his anger.]
I'm glad we're out of the church, because now I can say this—that would've been even more of a dick move. [A huff, and he shakes his head.] Stop trying to be a martyr, Matt. You have friends who can help you out, people who can take up some of this burden that you're so determined to carry. You have a life.
[They stop at a stoplight. Cars pass, people walk by, and the world has not slowed down for either of them.]
And as pissed as I am about thinking you were dead for two months? I'm glad you're not, and that you didn't throw away this second chance, because [and he sucks in a breath, suddenly unsteady] you're family. And, at the risk of sounding repetitive, I really did miss you.
[He wouldn't have called first, before Midland Circle was even relevant to his life, if he didn't.]
I do! I'm seasided @ plurk :D add me if you like!
He can't exactly refute being called a martyr either. Protests of not intending to die sound downright shallow and stupid, given how close he's come, how often.]
I think I've already asked more than is fair...
[He's willingly taken it on, but people like Karen, Claire, Foggy -- Foggy most of all, he thinks -- he's dragged them into this. Matt probably has more dumb things to say, but he stops, silent at family. To hear it said out loud, after everything.
And he's trying (and failing) to hold back, blink back, a few tears that make their way from his eyes down his cheeks. Stupid eyes. He hopes maybe Foggy won't see. But it's hard to help it. Every now and again he feels like the lost kid all on his own, back at the orphanage.
Pull it together, Murdock. The excuse of coming back from the dead only gets you so far.] Thank you.
WAVES
They're probably getting weird looks. Foggy can't quite bring himself to care about that. His best friend just came back from the dead, and they're trying to put something new together out of the ruins of what they used to have, he's allowed to have this much, surely.
He maybe cries a little too, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. Shush.
Just keep coming back, that's all I want. But the thing about miracles is that they're only one time.]
Just—say something, Matt. That's all I ask. [It's all he can ask. He's not stupid, he knows he can't get Matt to stop being Daredevil any more than Matt could once get him to stop snoring, way back in college. (And he did try to stop him, so many times.)] If you ever need any help, just say it. You're not the only one defending Hell's Kitchen anymore.
o/
Matt feels Foggy moving before the contact happens, but it still catches him off guard somehow by the hug. They're in the middle of the street after all, but Matt... Mat doesn't care. He can't bring himself to care, instead hugging Foggy back tightly, like he doesn't plan on letting go any time soon.
He will. He's a practical man. They'll need to move eventually.
But he feels the way that Foggy shakes, and it makes his heart ache where it's beating in his chest.]
Yeah... Okay. [He can do that, he thinks. He can try. He can try to be more honest with the people who matter, to not insist on taking on everything on his own. So maybe he can actually start right now.] I need help, Foggy. Now. I'm not.... [He's not sure what to do. Where to go. How to begin again. The only thing he knew was that he needed to talk to Foggy, like that would help him find his direction, like the other man has always been the true north of his internal compass.]