aworldonfire | rp | all the hurt that brought me here

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rp | all the hurt that brought me here

It's a miracle, he thinks, that he got away from Nobu, from Fisk. It's a miracle that he made it back to his apartment, as beaten as he is. It's a miracle, but singing the praises of God doesn't follow him much past the door, not because he doesn't want to but because, while he's still alive, still fighting, he's rapidly devolving into hysterical thought thanks to the blood loss, and what he's stricken by, standing in the doorway of the rooftop access, is that he remembers what red looks like, would swear he could see it.

It's in the taste of his own blood in his mouth, after all, the wash of pain in his stomach and chest that rushes over him whenever he draws breath, the smell of metal (not his own, not copper, so much blood, oh, God), clinging to his wounds, where he was stabbed again and again and again. It all permeates as much as Clint's cover's body spray did, the red, making it hard to think, hard to see beyond his absent sight, and he takes a drunken step forward, presses his fingers to the wall that runs alongside the steps that come down into his apartment, hoping it will help, praying for a touchstone. He makes it down a handful of stairs, something like wild optimism rising in his chest, alongside the pain (he can make it, if he can just make it to the phone, make it to Claire), before it all goes to hell.

His foot catches on something, something likely broken by him, by Stick, less than a handful of days ago, and he trips. He hits the remaining steps face-first, so fast it takes him a moment to register what just happened, to grunt, no more winded that he already was (is his lung punctured? he can't tell. it hurts. father forgive him -- both of them), and try to sit up. All he manages is to slide the rest of the way down the steps to the ground and for black to join the red, a memory of tunnel vision closing in on the edges of his mind's eye, as what little he can get from his other senses slips, stutters, unconsciousness creeping up on him. He doesn't try to get up again, after that, just lays there, panting. He doesn't even hear the door opening again above him, practically miles away.

He doesn't know how many minutes pass, him laying there, but eventually and what seems to him suddenly, something occurs to him. He shifts again, not trying to get up this time but to press his shaking fingers to the comm at his ear, always worn, just in case, but rarely used outside of his team ups with Clint and Natasha. It takes him three tries to actually get there, actually find his ear, and when he manages, it takes a moment more of false starts to fight past the black and find the breath for his words. It never occurs to him to think that the Avengers, if they're listening, already know what's going on, if only to a certain degree, that the comms are always transmitting, always receiving, that help may already be on the way.

"Little -- little help here?" he chokes out. "I need help. Please."

The red and black catch up to him, after that, as relentless as he's ever been in the same colors, and he slips into something like twilight.

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Foggy makes a face at him, disapproving - not that he wouldn't prefer Matt take it easy until he's absolutely sure he's all back in one piece, but he knows that'll never happen. "I'm on his side, for what it's worth."

"I'm pretty sure everyone is." Except maybe Tony, if only to a certain degree. He, at least, understands how it feels, having people practically sit on you and tell you not to move. "But I need to get back out there."

He's losing ground on Fisk, giving him time to settle, to reorient. He can't have that. He can't let him get away. He needs to be out there, tracking the man running Fisk's heroin trade, shutting that down, pushing him back into the corner he so obviously was managing before if he'd felt the need to throw another ninja at him. He needs -- to let it go, if only for now. Foggy, he --

He shakes his head, lets out a breath, and takes another sip of his water. He takes a moment to reorient himself, and when he manages, he simply repeats, "I need to get back out there," calmer, now.

"I know," Foggy returns, and while he's sad about it, he does know that Matt needs to be out there.

Just because he understands doesn't mean he likes it.

"I know you do, and I know you're as careful as you can be, and I know Stark's suit and his AI will help, but." He won't say again to be careful, but it's implied.

"Yeah," Matt says, in answer to that unspoken order. He'll be as careful as he can be. Barring what happened with Nobu, that a very bad, very snap decision fueled by his temper, he would insist he always has been. There's only so much you can do, to take care, when people are regularly shooting at you, though.

Rather than explain that, he's silent for a long moment, and then decides to change the subject, however minutely. "You and Karen still planning on coming at him from the other angle?" The legal one.

Matt wouldn't fault him, if he decided to give it up, knowing now that it's handled and who by, but he's not holding his breath. Seems like they both have things they don't like the other being involved in.

"I think we have to," Foggy returns, seriously but not without an element of apology. "If I suddenly want to back off, Karen'll know something's up. And it'll be some more pressure on him, even if we don't actually get anywhere."

He pauses a beat and then adds, teasing, "But we'll follow the rules, don't worry."

Matt was afraid he'd say something like that, and as much as he doesn't like it, Foggy's not wrong. If they stopped now, at best Karen would start thinking that Fisk had gotten to them and make it her personal crusade to save them, and at worst, she'd keep going on her own and get herself killed. He makes a face, that in mind, but doesn't try to argue with him.

"Just -- keep an eye on her," he tells him, instead. "Let's make that -- what number are we on? Three?" He shakes his head. He can't exactly remember, but it doesn't matter.

Foggy nods. "Three. And I will. And you've got Stark and his island of toys on board" - and he meant both JARVIS and the Avengers with that, by the way - "so. We'll be okay."

"Yeah," Matt repeats. He's still not sure he believes that, still isn't sure that this won't all end in the worst possible way for everyone involved in it, involved with him, but -- he wants to believe, to have faith. For not the first time, he thinks of Father Lantom and that maybe, at some point before he goes back to 'work', stopping in to see him.

"Speaking of," he starts after a long moment, a sip of water, and that in mind, "if I don't answer my phone, tomorrow, don't -- don't freak out, alright? I'm not planning on doing anything stupid."

Foggy's eyebrows immediately climb a couple of inches up his forehead. "See, now I'm going to think you are doing something stupid because you felt the need to warn me about it."

He's not entirely serious, though, he's really just protesting too much because it's what he does. Matt would have gotten that answer if he'd said something like that to him before he knew about the vigilante-ism.

And yes, that's a word.

Matt hums, dimly amused.

"I think my priest might be offended." That, without realizing it, Foggy has just called going to church stupid. "I was planning on going and taking confession."

And Foggy makes the obligatory little offended noise, that Matt just caught him in that. "Do not tell your priest I almost called church stupid," he says quickly, pointing at Matt. "But okay."

He pauses a beat before adding, apologetically again, "I also promise not to always ask you for a play-by-play of where you're going." Because he realizes he just did that, and he didn't really mean to.

"It's fine." Matt waves him off, trying to banish some measure of the amusement still written on his face. It's harder than it looks, especially when he imagines telling his priest that, despite Foggy's protests, but eventually he manages. A serious look for a return to more serious conversation. "I kind of promised I keep you up to date, so. "

He shrugs, pausing a beat, longer, and then starts, "I know you're not really one for the whole church thing, but if you ever feel like this is getting to be too much -- " He makes a wide, vague gesture, indicating his own life and what Foggy knows of it now. " -- the priest I've been seeing? He's -- he figured it out, Foggy."

He hates having to admit that, to tell Foggy all but outright that he wasn't the first to know (Claire, notwithstanding, since she'd found him unconscious), but offering Foggy the outlet is more important, right now. If he ever feels like he needs to talk to someone outside of all of this, he can find Father Lantom.

Edited 2016-01-24 04:11 (UTC)

That the priest might have figured it out is also different than Matt having told him, as far as Foggy is concerned, and he nods, losing his own amusement to turn serious for the moment, to give it the gravity it deserves. "Yeah. Thanks."

And he means that, too. He's not sure what else to say about it, because he's not sure it won't get to the point that he needs to talk about it, but. He hasn't been to church in a while that he wasn't going with Matt or some other family. He'd have to talk himself into it.

Matt relaxes a little, grateful that Foggy doesn't sound upset in any sense of the word, and in lieu of a proper response, hums. Another moment of pause follows, and then, he continues with, "And since I can't remember if I've mentioned it -- Father Lantom."

His priest's name, obviously.

He'd continue on from there, tell Foggy that he'd probably like him for how much of Matt's crap he doesn't take, but he gets that religion is a weird subject for Foggy. It's okay if he goes to church; it's stranger, Matt knows, to consider himself there.

Foggy knows the church is important to Matt, but he's also never tried to guilt Foggy into going. He's not going to be upset.

He nods. "I think you had? The name's familiar, anyway."

For as much good, Catholic guilt as Matt carries around, he's never tried to force it on anyone else. He never will. He's also not the kind of guy that believes that his friends are going to Hell just because they may not be religious or the supposed right religion, or -- anyway.

"It might have come up." Again, he can't remember.

"I'm not -- " Completely unaffected by the things he does. Not by a long shot. He's not sure he wants to directly get into that, right now, however, regardless of how much of a relief Foggy may or may not find it, which is why he pauses. And why he tries a slightly different track, when he starts again. "I met him after all this started."

"How did he figure it out? I'm guessing it wasn't like you went in there and confessed to punching a guy in the face fifteen times."

It would be a relief for Foggy to know Matt's not unaffected by this - but he also wouldn't be surprised to hear that. As much as he worried that he might not know as much about Matt as he thought he did, the point stands that he does know Matt, and he knows how deep Matt's sense of justice runs.

Someday, he might admit that he realized later he shouldn't have been surprised that Matt had taken this to the level he has - if the whole "super senses" thing had ever occurred to him.

"Not directly." Though, really, the first time, it had been a near thing. He'd all but told him he was about to run off and beat the shit out of someone. "We've talked about the Devil a lot. I guess between that, showing up with bruises, and the whole concept of the Devil kind of turning into a metaphor for Fisk, on my end of things ... "

He shrugs.

"He didn't understand how, but." But he'd figured it out.

"Priests just... know things a lot. Or the ones I've met who weren't terrible at their jobs, anyway." And he doubts Matt would stick around a priest who was terrible at his job for very long.

"I'm still I completely understand how," Foggy admits, so yeah, he gets how Father Lantom might not, either.

"The accident, when I was a kid," Matt tells him almost automatically, same as he told Father Lantom when he called him out on who he really was. "Or I'm assuming it has something to do with that, anyway. I know they say that, when you lose one sense, all your others get heightened, but I don't think they meant like this." He gestures to himself again. "Not the way it works for me."

If it did, there would be blind vigilantes running around everywhere. Never mind the fact that Clint's in the same line of work and he's hearing impaired. That's different. As far as he's aware, there's nothing borderline supernatural about him, about what he does. He's just had years of practice, training to be a damn good shot. Stick also doesn't count.

"There'd probably be a lot more of you around if it did," Foggy returns, unknowingly echoing Matt's thought. "But I get why he was a little thrown by it all, is the point."

And yes, that's putting it mildly.

"I figured," Matt allows, nodding. He knows that Foggy wasn't really looking for an explanation beyond what he's told him already, it's just, "It's what I told him, when he asked, so I didn't have to get into the whole 'world on fire' thing. I kind of -- I had more important things I wanted to get into, the day he told me he knew."

Like his latest moral crisis.

"I owe him a better explanation, one of these days, but ... " Later. Maybe after everything with Fisk wraps up, if he's still breathing.

Foggy doesn't like the "if" in that statement, Murdock, but since he's not actually a mind-reader, he won't address it at the moment.

"He might appreciate it." Foggy had, anyway - he doesn't mean to guilt Matt, though, and he adds, "I am glad you have him, though."

He means that, too - again, he knows how important the church is to Matt. He's glad Matt found a priest he could actually talk to.

It's still all a little touch and go at this point, Foggy.

"After this is over," he promises, aloud now.

"And yeah, it's -- " He hesitates again, coming up against the same wall he did before, uncertain as to whether or not he should get into questions of morality. After a moment, he shakes his head faintly, pushes into it. If he's going to have to keep stopping, it's going to come up eventually, he figures. " -- it's nice to get a moral reality check, sometimes. For better or worse."

Whether that means being reminded that he's not the bad guy or being reminded that he could be, if he doesn't watch himself.

Foggy huffs out a breath. "Yeah." He still feels bad about believing everything the media told them - and he feels bad for being so wary of the suit when he knows it's just Matt. He's a little afraid to get into it, too, though, considering he doesn't want to make anything more awkward than it's already drifting.

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