Chapter Text
Matt comes back into his life in a hail of bullets. Literally. Well, not literally literally, but there is a bank robbery and a lot of bullets whizzing around, so, figuratively literally.
Bullets hail out of gun barrels or however the metaphor works and Foggy is lying on the ground thinking about his court case tomorrow morning because this is what his life has become: calmness in the face of bullets and bank robberies. He’s been in life threatening situations before - the bombing, confronting the Dogs of Hell - hell, he’s been shot before, and while it’s an experience he isn’t keen on repeating, it’s something he knows that he can survive.
And then Daredevil drops down from the roof and is silhouetted in the doorway, and just for a moment Foggy feels as if his heart stops. And then it starts again with a heavy thump, and he reminds himself to breath, to act like anyone else in this situation, and not someone who’s ex-best friend just threw himself into a gunfight. Not someone who had his heart broken by Daredevil. He tries to keep his heartbeat steady, takes calming breaths, and hopes that Matt doesn’t recognise him lying there waiting for this all to be over so he can go back to the life he’s building for himself.
It doesn’t work. Matt turns his head in Foggy’s direction and stumbles, just a little, just for a second, just long enough for one of the robbers to get a good punch in, right to his face. Foggy gets a flash of vindictive pleasure out of it and then feels awful, terrible, because he’s never wanted Matt to get hurt. It’s the whole reason he doesn’t want him to be Daredevil.
Matt takes the robber down immediately and doesn’t turn in Foggy’s direction again, but even so by the end of the fight Daredevil is standing directly between Foggy and the last remaining criminal, and he takes an aborted step backwards in Foggy’s direction before he seems to think better of it and disappears out the side door.
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It’s not even a week before Foggy sees Matt again. He’s managed to avoid him for months now, and suddenly he’s seeing him twice within a few days.
Well, he’s seeing Daredevil, passed out in an alleyway, with a cop crouched down next to him.
Foggy doesn’t even stop to think, just grasps his briefcase tightly and walks quickly down the alley calling out to the figures.
The cop looks up and it’s Brett, one hand on Daredevil’s cowl and the other resting on his gun but he lets go of both and stands when he sees Foggy approaching. “I haven’t–” he says, stammering. “I don’t– I don’t want to know. I don’t want confirmation.”
And Foggy lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, relaxes his tensed muscles. “Well good.” he says. “Because as Daredevil’s lawyer, I wouldn’t let you anyway.”
“Like you could stop me, Nelson.” Brett says with a little huff of a laugh and Foggy is a good enough person not to mention the relief he hears there. Maybe when they’re old and grey and still only half-pretending to hate each other, maybe then Foggy will laugh in his face.
Brett steps around Matt and comes to stand in front of Foggy, deliberately putting his back to Daredevil. “But I– Don’t get me wrong, I don’t agree with what he’s doing. It’s illegal, and I want to arrest him. But– But he does things that the police force can’t. We need him right now.”
Foggy nods. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Next time you see him for a...for an appointment. Tell him thanks. For the tip-offs. And for leaving the arrests for me.”
Foggy nods again, but this time he’s looking over Brett’s shoulder, where Matt is stirring, sitting up far too fast than can be considered sensible for a man with a head wound and getting silently to his feet, making his way quickly to the nearest fire escape.
“I will.” And Brett walks out of the alley. Foggy doesn’t turn to see him go - he’s too focused on watching Matt disappear into the night.
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“Brett knows.” Drifts out of the darkness of his apartment as Foggy swings the door open. He feels his heart leap wildly in his chest but keeps his face blank as he fumbles for the light switch even though he knows it’s stupid because Matt couldn’t see it if he let his alarm show. But he can sense it without it ever appearing on Foggy’s face.
He hits the light switch and then he can see the open window Matt came through and that is letting the cool air in, and Matt sitting on his couch in his Daredevil costume, cowl off and blinking slowly and unseeingly in Foggy’s direction. Foggy is proud of himself for how evenly his voice comes out as he drops his keys on the table near the door. “Yeah, well, Brett’s known you since college. And he’s not an idiot. He may not have any super senses, but he still knows your voice and your face.”
Matt grins, and it’s sharper than the way he used to smile for amusement, but Foggy still gets that vibe. “Are you saying Karen’s an idiot then?”
Foggy huffs. “No. I’m saying Karen saw you in the dark, and she was tired and afraid and she’d only met you once. She wouldn’t have known your mug even at the best of times.”
Matt smiles bigger and happier, says “so what you’re saying is that my face isn’t memorable? Because I remember things very differently.” And Foggy wants to grin back. It would be so easy. So easy to smile at Matt and fall into their familiar banter and forgive him, forget everything that happened between them. And he wants to, desperately, but not enough.
Instead, he sighs. “What do you want, Matt?”
Matt’s smile doesn’t disappear, but the joy fades from it. “I wanted to say thank you.”
Foggy nods. “Well, you have. And you’re welcome. But unless you have any pressing legal matters, go home. Go back to Elektra and your mission that was more important than literally anything else in your life.”
Matt does stop smiling at that, face entirely blank. “Elektra’s dead.” He says, and Foggy is too shocked to reply. “But you’re right.” he continues. “I should leave you alone.” And he turns and heads back to the window he broke in through.
“Wait, Matt.” Foggy calls out, and his mind is as focused as it ever is when he’s working on a case, white noise except for the issue at hand, the knowledge that Matt is alone now. And Foggy lived with Matt through years of college. He knows how Matt gets with only his thoughts for company, how deep they can spiral. How easily he can get trapped in his own head and his past if no one is around to distract him. No matter how mad he is at him, and he’s furious, Foggy has never wanted Matt to be alone.
Matt stops in his tracks, but he doesn’t turn or acknowledge Foggy in any other way. “Stay. Just for the night. Karen’s coming over tomorrow and she is far less forgiving than me, so you need to be gone before she gets here. And frankly I don’t actually want to talk to you that much anyway. But I found you unconscious in an alleyway, so you must’ve hit your head pretty hard. And I’d feel better to know that you’re here, and not off on your own somewhere.”
Matt doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make a move to leave or to stay, and Foggy pushes his advantage. “Come on, Matt. I know you don’t actually care about my happiness, but at least pretend. For the friendship we used to have.” And Foggy feels a little dirty for that, the blatant emotional manipulation, but if it’s what it takes to keep Matt safe for one night, he’ll do it. He’ll guilt trip the hell out of him to stop Matt from being alone. He compromised so many of his morals in keeping Matt’s secret, what’s one more? He’s a big-time corporate lawyer now, after all. Morals are cheap.
Matt flinches hard, visibly, but he does also turn away from the window and sits down on Foggy’s couch. Foggy walks backwards into his room watching Matt the entire time and then scurries into his bedroom, throws clothes out of his draw and onto the floor in his haste to find the spare pair of sweatpants he keeps for Matt. He hadn’t realised he hadn’t given them away to charity with all the other stuff he hadn’t needed in his apartment move until he was unpacking again, and by then he just decided to keep them. When he darts back of of his bedroom Matt is still sitting exactly where he left him, but when he throws Matt the pair of pants he plucks then gracefully out of the air.
“Well, goodnight.” Foggy says, and doesn’t hang around to hear Matt’s reply. He doesn’t know how he’d respond if Matt wanted to talk right now. Even so, he thinks he heats Matt say that he does care. But it can’t be true, he won’t let it be true. If it were, if Matt did care, he wouldn’t have pushed Foggy away, cut him off so cleanly. Done the one thing that would hurt Foggy more than anything. Being shot had been less painful than having Matt brush him off after it, watching Matt’s back as he walked away and left Foggy with a bullet hole on a stretcher.
If Matt thinks that was him caring, then they were never on the same page about anything that they were to each other.
If Matt thinks that was him caring, then Foggy wants to hold him and never let go, find whoever hurt Matt in the way that they did and beat them to a pulp, make them spend the rest of their life in gaol. Foggy would trade in all his morals and become Daredevil himself for the day if it meant he could get his hands on whoever made Matt think that hurting people and pushing them away, isolating himself, was the only way to protect the people he cares about.
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Matt starts visiting him apartment. Not on any regular schedule. He doesn’t always come in, sometimes he just sits on Foggy’s fire escape and waits. Other times he does enter, but Foggy isn’t there and finds Matt sleeping on his couch when he gets back from being out with Karen or Marci. When everything aligns and they manage to be at Foggy’s place together Foggy puts on the television to prevent the need for conversation. He’s angry but he’s not a dick, so Foggy still ends up talking for most of the time while he narrates what’s happening on the screen, but it’s not fun like it was before; he doesn’t make things up to confuse Matt or make him laugh, he’s as professional as an actual audio description. Besides, Foggy’s chatter means Matt doesn’t have the opportunity to talk back, even though he doesn’t seem inclined to do so anyway.
In fact, Matt only speaks to him to answer a direct question: is he’s hungry, is he’s hurt and is there anything going on in Hell’s Kitchen that Foggy needs to know about? About two months in, Foggy comes to the horrible realisation that these reluctant, stilted conversations are more than Matt ever told him about what was going on with him than when they were actually friends, and he has to leave in the middle of an episode of The Simpsons to sit under the water in his shower to come to terms with that. Matt has gone by the time he gets back.
Matt stays away for a week and a half after that and Foggy thinks he’s finally given up on the uneasy peace between the two of them to actually make some new friends, when his doorbell rings and it’s Matt on the other side. Not Daredevil, not a weary vigilante with no one else to go to, just Matt Murdock, in one of the suits he used to wear to work, with his cane and his dark red glasses hiding his eyes.
Back during college it had taken weeks for Foggy to figure out that Matt didn’t wear his glasses a a fashion statement or to make others less uncomfortable around him. Sure, Matt doesn’t like it when people dance around his blindness, but he has no desire to hide it for the comfort of others. No, Matt has always worn his glasses like armour, impenetrable glass separating him from the rest of the world, allowing him an easy retreat from situations and helping to mask his emotions. With his glasses and his scruff and a sharp smile Matt has always been able to look dangerous, predatory, like he’s seconds away from shattering your self-confidence with how smart and beautiful he is, like you should quit before you even begin because he already has your number.
Without them, you can see how big his eyes are; wide and soft.
Matt hasn’t worn his glasses around Foggy in private for years. He misses it now with a desperate ache, Matt’s long lashes blinking slowly and sleepily as they worked late into the night, the way Matt would turn his entire body towards Foggy’s voice as if he were trying to make eye contact. But Matt’s jaw tightens when Foggy steps aside to let him in and Foggy can guess that Matt needs his armour more than ever right now.
Matt sits on the couch before he opens his mouth. “I’ve been speaking with Father Lantom.” he says and Foggy sucks in a sharp breath. Matt never talked about his religion much except to make jokes or to make other people uncomfortable - sometimes both - but he has been asking Foggy to go to mass with him once a fortnight for the entire time they’ve known each other. Over the years it became more of a tradition than an actual question.
At least he had, until Frank Castle came onto the scene and called into question his entire ethos. And then Elektra, and Matt had fallen into a spiral like Foggy hadn’t seen since the first time she left. Matt has a tendency to get caught up in people, and back in college Foggy had tried to be supportive, but it was difficult to offer it when Matt wasn’t around anymore; in class, or in their dorm room. That first time Foggy had mostly been worried, because Matt had told him how hard he had worked to get into college to honour his father, how much he wanted to be a lawyer so no one else’s children were left behind when parents got out of their depth. And then he’d skipped classes to go to fancy parties with Elektra and Foggy had worried about him. But this time he’d been too angry - at Matt’s avoidance, disappearances, lying - to see it for what it was.
Foggy wears the part he played in Matt’s crisis of faith with a hint of pride for making him doubt the goodness in vigilantism, and a whole lot of shame for making Matt feel like he couldn’t talk to him. And more on top of that for contributing to him doubting the existence of his God. Foggy may not be sure whether or not he believes himself, but he had never wanted to take that faith, that hope, from Matt. Even when they were close, Foggy had still known that God was sometimes all that got Matt through the day; that promise of love and forgiveness. The face that vigilantism won out in the end only makes the guilt deeper.
But if Matt is meeting with his priest again, it can only be a good sign. It can only mean that Matt is starting to believe again.
“He says I need to be more honest about how I feel.” Foggy stifles a little snort of derision, but Matt probably knew it was coming anyway, because he pauses for a second before continuing. “To talk about and come to terms with my past before I can make meaningful connections in my future. And I think he’s right. so here I am. Just please don’t interrupt me.”
Foggy nods and Matt visibly steels himself before continuing. “I’ve been in love with you since college.” He says, no hesitation, and Foggy opens his mouth to say something, anything, in reply to that and Matt glares at him as a reminder but joke’s on him because Foggy couldn’t say anything if he tried. He never let himself hope, even dream that Matt may have feelings for him. Matt very rarely displayed an interest in men at all, and when he did they were always as stoic and distant as Matt himself, and Foggy had long ago created categories for Matt’s approach to men in his head; quiet and studious for dating, loud, excitable and outgoing for the best friend. And then Foggy had tied a neat little bow around his relationship with Matt and never tugged the string to see how it all might unravel because anything else was just a waste of his affections.
“Marci always knew. That’s why she hated me so much. She was always expecting you to choose me over her.” Matt huffs a little. “I could’ve told her not to worry. You’d been nothing but friendly to me since that first day, but still–. I never said anything because I always hoped that you would. And when she broke up with you, you were so upset. And I was happy about it. That’s when I decided that I could never tell you, that we could never date– You deserve better. I’m not a good person– I–”
And Foggy finds his words, can’t hold them in any longer. “Stop, Matt. Just stop.” And miraculously, Matt does, falls quiet in his ramblings and tuns his face away, down to where he’s twirling his cane in his hands. Shame manifests itself in the same way no matter what, and Foggy is furious that Matt feels like he has to be ashamed of his feelings. “You’re not a bad person, Matt. You’re just not. So you can stop with all this martyr crap. You want to help people, to protect them. You think there’s good in everyone, that everyone deserves a chance at forgiveness, but you won’t cut yourself the same break and it kills me. And yeah, okay, you may not be the best person either. You keep making decisions for me and don’t even bother to ask me what I want. You lied to me, over and over again, even after you promised that you wouldn’t. And you come here, you dump all this on me, even though you know that I’m still not sure how I feel about having you back in my life. You really hurt me, Matt, and I don’t think you realise just how much. But you’re not a bad person. You’re just a person. A person who makes decisions, and yeah some of them are bad, but some of them are good and noble and heroic.” And Foggy takes a deep breath and pulls on that string, softens his voice. “And for the record, I’ve been in love with you since college, too.”
At some point Matt had started crying quietly, and Foggy doesn’t notice until he speaks, his voice cracking as he chokes out “I’m so sorry, Foggy.” And no matter how mad Foggy has been at Matt, no matter how angry he likely he still will be, it all melts away in with the way that Matt’s face crumples, the way Matt curls in on himself as he cries and Foggy may have walked out on him once before like this but he can’t again. Instead he sits down on the couch, reaches around Matt and pulls him in so his head resting on his chest, his arms keeping him tight to his body. Foggy doesn’t tell him that it’s okay, that they’re okay, because they’re not. But as Matt lets out a little whimper and turns his head so his face is pressed against him, Foggy knows that one day they will be.
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Matt cries himself to sleep that night, and Foggy considers for a moment picking him up and bringing him to his bed so he doesn’t have to spend the night curled up awkwardly on Foggy’s couch, but even asleep Matt looks exhausted, his eyes sunken and stained dark against too pale skin and Foggy doesn’t want to risk waking him. Instead he pulls away slowly and softly lowers Matt down so he’s lying on the couch. Foggy loosens his tie and takes off his shoes and then carefully removes his glasses which must have hurt, with the tightness with which he and Matt were pressed together but of course Matt didn’t complain because he thinks of pain as penance. Foggy vows that he is going to sit Matt down and explain to him about taking care of himself.
It’s only when he’s lying down in bed that Foggy realises that he’s started making plans for the future that involve Matt again. And this time it’s Foggy’s turn to fall asleep with silent tears rolling down his cheeks.
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They decide to start over again. Properly, this time. They know what happens now if they don’t really try, and they both never want to go through that again.
Foggy doesn’t quit HC&B, because he’s honestly doing good work there. He may hate the corporate atmosphere, but he can also help people like Jess and the other people with abilities who are making themselves known throughout Hell’s Kitchen. He can one day help Daredevil, without giving away Matt’s secret or his own clear conflict of interest. Besides that, HC&B is good for him. The knowledge that he was headhunted, even if it was by Marci’s recommendation, does wonders for his self-confidence as a lawyer, and the way that the job forces him to step out of his comfort zone in court and find solutions for his own cases will be excellent experience for when he and Matt set up Nelson & Murdock again. Because truthfully, it is inevitable that they will.
But for now Foggy is trying to ease Matt back into the real world.
Matt has never been a stunning conversationalist. He’s good with words when he needs to be, can turn a jury on a dime in court, but when it was just the two of them he always prefers to let Foggy do the talking and laugh at his jokes. The month alone and isolated as Daredevil have done him nothing but harm, and getting him to sit back and tell a story is almost painfully difficult. It’s like Matt is constantly surprised by his own voice. It speaks to how many days and nights he must have spent in silence, the only sounds being his own breath and the suffering of the city, and Foggy feels awful having contributed to that even in a small way.
Matt also seems incapable of relaxing in a crowd, of leaning back and having a drink with friends (or in his case, friend. Singular.), but Foggy still insists on the two of them eating out every Wednesday night. If Matt is going to get back into everyday life then he has to actually do it. Forcing Matt to go outside and spend time with other people is so completely reminiscent of their time in college - of coaxing Matt outside when he would threaten to not leave their dorm for anything other than classes for weeks on end and curl up under his covers and get stuck in his own head - that Foggy has such a profound case of deja vu the first night and can not think of anything to say. He’s afraid Matt will give up after that, run away again and write Matt Murdock off as a failed experiment. But he’s at Foggy’s window the next night, Daredevil cowl covering his head until Foggy lets him in.
That’s the other thing they’re doing, these nightly visits. Not every night, but three or four a week, Matt tapping on his widow just as the sun starts to rise and his patrol ends. Sometimes they discuss cases even though attorney-client privilege prevents Foggy from mentioning names. But mostly they talk about Daredevil’s patrol. Foggy remains uncomfortable with Matt’s vigilantism, but the two of them shutting any conversation about it out is not an insignificant part of why their friendship fell apart the second time. Foggy is coming to terms with it, though; with the idea that sometimes he and Matt’s moralities do not intersect. It had helped that he had met Jess’ friend Malcolm, who was similarly conflicted about the way she sometimes went about her business.
Matt avoids telling him about the fights because he knows Foggy doesn’t like to hear about him getting hurt in mundane ways, let alone because of a confrontation he deliberately sought out. Instead, Matt talks about what he hears, smells, senses on the street: the dealings of Hell’s Kitchen’s underworld, bragging about a crime or planning another; victims, pleading and screaming and sobbing; the stench of the alleys, trash and blood and fear, of the city and the smog; the buzz of the streetlamps and neon signs; people leaving bars and restaurants, the click of their shoes and their laughter; families in their homes, happy to be together; the sound of sizzling and the smell of food; heartbeats, as people come together for the first time, as they fall in love, as they break apart. Life; the good, and the bad.
Matt’s visits can’t be accurately anticipated, so Foggy starts heading home from work earlier so he won’t be tired if he has to wake up at five in the morning. Marci notices almost immediately that something is up, and when she asks he has to tell her some of the truth. He doesn’t tell her about Daredevil, but he does tell her he’s reconnecting with Matt. He lies and says they have dinners together, but the basis of truth allows him to not feel guilty. He’s getting to be a better lawyer every day.
She’s happy for him, says his moping was affecting his performance in bed, but also that it’s a shame she won’t be able to appreciate his better moves because they probably shouldn’t sleep together anymore. Foggy thinks back to Matt telling him that she’s always known how the two of them felt for each other and feels a stab of guilt at the idea that he might have always have been using Marci. He’d never thought so before, never related not being able to be with Matt with being with Marci, but what if it had been subconsciously?
His worries must show on his face, because Marci rolls her eyes. “Please. It was all about me, Foggy Bear, and you know it.” she scoffs. “You were always my favourite booty call. If you and Murdock don’t work out again, you know where to find me. But until then, we should drop the benefits. You are the romantic type, after all.”
Marci doesn’t say that Matt should join them for after work drinks, and it’s comforting to know that some things will never change - Marci and Matt will never get along, even if the do like each other in some weird, frenemies way. Put them in a room together and they’ll do all they can to never be near each other, but Foggy knows that Matt enjoys Marci’s bluntness, the way she treats him like everyone else. And Foggy remembers, clear as day, Marci getting drunk - after the first (and last) time she ever lost a mock trial at college because of some stupid sexist lecturer - and tearfully telling him that Matt was good people because he was the only one other than her that really appreciated how great Foggy was. She doesn’t remember that night, and Foggy is saving bringing it up for when he really needs it. Probably when she eventually finds out about Daredevil.
In fact they don’t mention Matt again for the rest of the night, until Marci picks up her bag, stands, and then sits down again. “I have a question.” She says, and Foggy gestures for her to go on. “When did you and Murdock start ‘hanging out’ again?” Foggy tells her. “Huh.” She says. “You were exceptionally good in bed for a few weeks there. Guess I must’ve been getting some misdirected angry-sex. Nice to know Murdock is good for something.”
And Foggy is only slightly embarrassed to realise that she’s right, because it really was good sex.
Marci smirks at him and she stands again and pats him on the shoulder as she walks passed. Foggy finishes his beer quickly, a huge grin on his face.
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Karen has known he’s been spending time with Matt again since that first night. He’d let her know immediately the next day because he’d vowed not to lie to her again. But even so, he waits three weeks before he tells her that he and Matt are trying to be friends again. He can’t quite settle on why - because he didn’t want to jinx it? because he didn’t want to get her hopes up about them all reconciling? because he’s selfish and he wanted Matt for himself for a while? - but he does eventually ask her if she wants to have dinner with the two of them next Wednesday.
They’re sitting at the bar waiting for the rest of their Superpowered Support Club to arrive and Karen freezes with her whisky halfway to her lips. She’s been trying out the hardened reporter stereotype for the past month or so now, and it’s really working for her. Foggy is sometimes randomly hit with pain at the knowledge that they messed up the chance of anything happening between the two of them, because the sight of Karen focused, with steel determination her her eyes, a glass of whisky in one hand and a triumphant smile on her lips is something to behold. Not that Karen isn’t always beautiful, but she’s particularly striking when she is confident and self-assured. As painful as the breakup of Nelson and Murdock was, it was also probably for the best. For Karen and Foggy, anyway.
Karen thinks hard about Foggy’s question before finally settling on “I’m not ready yet”. Her ability to hold a grudge, to see the world as Right and Wrong on her own moral scale, is astounding. Foggy wishes he had her conviction. He has the brief, uncharitable thought that she’s being unfair; that if Foggy, who has known Matt far longer and far better than her can forgive him then why can’t she, before he angrily reminds himself that their situations are completely different. Foggy and Matt have known each other for years, and when he found out Matt lied to him it was like a punch to the gut, like nothing had ever been real, like he didn’t matter to Matt except for as a convenient excuse. But where Matt was his best friend, he was Karen’s saviour. He’d protected her, taken her in when she was at her most vulnerable, when she was scared out of her mind and under fire from all directions and he had saved her. Both as Matt Murdock and as Daredevil. And to find out that both of them had betrayed her, had lied to her, must have been devastating. Disillusioning. A loss of faith that at least one person would always be looking out for her and on her side. Their pain at Matt’s lies may have been equal, but they were not comparable, and Foggy does not begrudge her the right to her continued anger.
An awkward silence falls between the two of them after that, but they are quickly saved by the arrival of Claire and Malcolm, Jess and Trish following along behind. Neither one of them mentions Matt for the rest of the night.
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It’s not always good.
This whole honesty thing Matt’s trying, it occasionally brings up things Foggy would honestly probably be happier not knowing. Things like what Matt was doing after Foggy got shot.
“I sat on the roof of the hospital and listened to you. Claire thinks that you’re my anchor to humanity. I was waiting for the Hand to show because there were kids there that Elektra and I rescued from them, but all the time I was listening to you. You kept changing the channel to check the basketball scores, even though you say it’s a garbage sport and baseball is the Great American Pastime.”
Matt smiles at him like that’s supposed to be a joke, but Foggy isn’t laughing. “You left me.” He says, and the fury he’s feeing must be obvious in his voice or his heartbeat because the grin falls immediately off Matt’s face. “I got shot. I was scared and in pain and I asked you to stay and you left me.”
“The Punisher–” Matt starts, but Foggy talks over him, voice rising in volume.
“Don’t give me that– Don’t even try with me, Matt. You were there! You just said so yourself. There waiting for the Hand. Frank Castle didn’t even factor into it. You were there, sitting on the roof, and you didn’t even think–. You could have waited with me! You could have–”
“Fisk threatened you.” Matt says, and he doesn’t raise his voice but it’s dropped like a dead weight and Foggy’s rant comes crashing to a halt.
“What?”
“I visited him. In prison.” And Matt’s voice is flat. “Not as Daredevil, just as me. And he threatened you. And I thought– If he would threaten the partner of the lawyer who took him down, what would he do to Daredevil’s best friend, the one person he can’t live without?”
Foggy can’t decide if he’s more sad for Matt or angry at him right now, so he does what he does best when he’s overwhelmed and retreats to facts. “Firstly, did it ever occur to you that Fisk coming after me would have nothing to do with you? I was there in court too, remember? We took him down together, along with Karen. So stop trying to martyr yourself, Matt. It’s getting pretty boring. And, frankly, insulting. Secondly. You could.”
This time it’s Matt’s turn: “What?”
“You could live without me. You have been. You were, even before we stopped being friends. Karen and I hardly saw you, and she spent more time with you than me. You were gone from our lives long before we dissolved Nelson and Murdock. You were just too wrapped up in your own stuff to notice. And look, I get it. You had to save the world from mystical ninjas or whatever. And seriously if we weren’t trying to be honest with each other, with that story I’d think you were a little racist. But you were busy, and Karen and I moved on and learned to rely on each other without you, because you’d already left us before you walked out that door.”
Matt looks stricken, and Foggy is afraid he’s gone too far in trying to get Matt to see how much he hurt him and Karen. He’d never wanted to hurt Matt back.
“No. Foggy, I–” Matt swallows. “I was going to run away with Elektra after we finished the Hand. Because you left and I– I couldn’t stand being who I was, being Matt Murdock, without you. So it was easier, being Daredevil. Elektra could make the decisions and I could just be there. And then she died, and– I haven’t been back to my apartment. Before you asked me to stay, I was just sleeping wherever I could find a safe place. I hadn’t had a friendly conversation in months. No one had just talked to me. No one had touched me that didn’t want to hurt me. I was completely alone. I wasn’t living. Just surviving.”
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After their Wednesday dinners they usually go their separate ways, Foggy to his apartment and Matt to wherever he’s hiding his Daredevil outfit. Tonight Matt walks along side him and they’re a block away from Foggy’s place before he notices how far they’ve come and Matt hasn’t left yet. There’s a few restaurants with outdoor dining still serving after they turn onto Foggy’s street, so he holds his arm out for Matt to take.
Matt reaches for him, but instead of tucking his hand into his elbow, Matt reaches farther around and takes his hand, twines their fingers together, just as they step around the corner.
Foggy freezes; because it’s symbolism and literalism all rolled into one, they’ve turned a corner, and all he can do is stop and laugh while Matt smirks at him, half shy and half triumphant.