rp | all the hurt that brought me here

[aworldonfire]

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.

Comments

[avocado_atlaw]

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.

[aworldonfire]

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.

[avocado_atlaw]

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."

[aworldonfire]

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."

[avocado_atlaw]

"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.

[aworldonfire]

"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.

[avocado_atlaw]

"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.

[aworldonfire]

"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.

[avocado_atlaw]

"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.

[aworldonfire]

"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.

[avocado_atlaw]

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.

[aworldonfire]

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.

[avocado_atlaw]

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.

[aworldonfire]

"Yeah," Matt echoes. He can tell this is getting uncomfortable again for Foggy, and -- well, maybe they can come back to it later. Maybe they never will. Either way is fine. He promised Foggy as much time as he needs, after all, and this, this right here, is what he has a priest for. If he really wants to get into morality, he can talk to Father Lantom about it.

(Never mind the fact that it won't be the same. There's a difference between telling your priest you carry your guilt with you and telling your best friend. Priests expect that sort of thing. It's why people take confession.)

"Anyway, uh," he continues after a moment, after he lets where that was headed go. Not that he continues; he really has no idea what to say, now. Again, Foggy isn't the only one that needs to regain his equilibrium.

[avocado_atlaw]

"Uh...." Foggy begins, too - and then jumps on the first thing that comes to mind. "Did I mention Karen had you some kind of ridiculous 'get well' thing?"

He knows what it is. He's also so not ruining the surprise because it sure is ridiculous. But well-intentioned, of course.

[aworldonfire]

"It might have come up." And he might know that you know what it is, Foggy, even if he's not going to call you on it. He knew the first time he brought it up, too. It's just not that big a deal to risk terrorizing his best friend again to call him on it.

"Though, speaking of ... " He might want to think about heading home before too much longer. Karen can call, if he's not in, sure, can call Foggy when he doesn't answer his phone, but he doesn't want to upset her, either. God knows he's done enough of that, already, between -- well, everything. He's given them both a lot of cause to worry, even without knowing the truth.

"I don't suppose you have a bag or something I can stick the suit in?" he finishes, rather than turn back to his guilt.

[avocado_atlaw]

"You're welcome to hang around," he replies immediately, because he really doesn't want Matt to think that's changed in any way, shape, or form. "But yeah, I've got some duffle bags. Or a backpack?"

Whichever works better.

[aworldonfire]

Matt gets that and he appreciates it. He flashes Foggy a smile, too, hoping to convey that, though it's short-lived, shifting sooner rather than later into something genuinely apologetic. He'd love to hang around, honestly, despite how up and down their conversations have been, so far, as they both readjust, but, "I should probably get home before someone shows up to check in on me and thinks I went looking for more ninjas or something."

He really doesn't want to explain to -- well, anyone, really, why both he and the suit are missing, assuming they know where to look for his gear in the first place. Clint might.

Rather than say that, however, he starts to tell Foggy that either or would work for him and then stops abruptly, something, some association half-forming on his face behind the sunglasses. Backpack. Blind guy with a backpack. He can't quite make the connection he wants (the Chinese man in the back of the taxi to the heroin he found in the apartment of the man who'd murdered Elena Cardenas), it sitting on the tip of the proverbial tongue, but --

He shakes his head abruptly, trying to clear it. It'll come to him, if he stops trying to think about it.

"Sorry," he starts after another moment, the puzzle harder to banish than he'd hoped. "Either or would be good."

[avocado_atlaw]

Foggy raises an eyebrow at him curiously at the pause, and then shakes his head, dismissing the apology for whatever that was about. "Be right back," he says instead, heading for a different closet and coming back a few moments later with a duffle bag.

[aworldonfire]

Matt waits patiently, still struggling with the connection and trying pointedly to let it go, even if he manages to keep that war off his face, albeit barely. It doesn't help that he's not gaining ground on either front, and -- and in turning his thoughts, however briefly, to his frustration, it hits him like a ton of bricks. When Foggy returns, he looks stunned, eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Foggy," he starts insistently, "you've seen other blind guys running around the city, right? Probably Chinese. Carrying backpacks."

[avocado_atlaw]

"Uh..." Foggy begins after a pause. "Unlike half the city, I don't stare at the handicapped when they walk by considering I can stare at you anytime I want..." He cuts himself off, there. "That didn't come out right. Anyway. Maybe? I think so? Why?"

[aworldonfire]

"Maybe not so much," Matt agrees, though it gets a smirk out of him, however brief. When it fades, and rather than actually answer that question, he asks, "I'm guessing you don't remember where you saw them?"

[avocado_atlaw]

"Not really?" He frowns, though, still trying to think. "I don't know, Matt. Maybe over on 10th somewhere?" That really doesn't help, he figures, but that's all he can remember.

[aworldonfire]

"No, it's -- that's good. That's a start," he tells him.

He's not a mind reader, but he can read the cues in Foggy's breathing patterns, in everything else, and more than that, he knows his best friend. Either way, it narrows things down -- as does the fact that it has to be in the Kitchen, so he won't end up having to search all of 10th. It also makes him itch to put the suit back on and go check it out, and he can't help but not-quite-glance in that direction, the fact that he's still supposed to be resting be damned.

[avocado_atlaw]

"Can you tell me what's going on?"

This isn't one he'll push on - if Matt wants to tell him he needs to stay out of it, he will, but that doesn't change the fact that he worries.