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Crime didn’t sleep. Gangs never seemed to have time off. And the good Lord knew that Wilson Fisk had never taken a personal day in his life. He even ran his syndicate from prison.
So while Matt Murdock had promised his friends and loved ones again and again that he would look after himself, not burn the candle at both ends, and lead an overall more balanced life, he found it hard to actually follow through.
He never went out on Sundays or the night before he was due in court. That was enough. If he spent more time working, volunteering at the church, being a better friend to Foggy and Karen, learning how to be a son to Maggie, and going out as Daredevil than he actually slept, well, that was the price he had to pay.
And he’d certainly felt like his life was more balanced now. Work. Friends. Family. Church. Daredevil. He found time for all of them. He might not be leaving any time for himself and he’d certainly never heard of self-care, but his life was probably more balanced than it had ever been and that had to be enough.
If it meant going to work injured or trying not to nod off in church, then that was his cross to bear. He was feeling happier in general lately, in a better place by far than he had been in years. So if it’s not broke, why fix it?
Unfortunately for Matt, sometimes life had other plans. How did the saying go? When men make plans, God laughs. And he was certainly laughing now, Matt was sure of it.
Two days ago he’d been volunteering in the church nursery after Mass so parents could attend the social gathering. One of the children had been miserable and inconsolable, alternating crying and simply stretching out on the floor in a tiny sprawl. Matt had finally just picked the child up and figured he’d carry him though the next hour when the too warm toddler in his arms turned and sneezed full force into Matt’s face. Then he’d begun crying again, whining that his throat hurt. Great. Someone had brought their feverish, snotty child to the nursery rather than keeping them home, and now he was covered in the child’s germs.
Parents returned soon after and Matt forgot about the incident until two days later when he woke up with a sore throat of his own. He immediately downed some orange juice followed by endless cups of tea throughout the day. He couldn’t get sick. Getting sick messed with his senses and made it hard to do anything.
And he didn’t have time to take a sick day. This week alone he was due in court for three cases, he was tracking what he was sure was some kind of drug ring, Foggy had scheduled a big dinner for Marci that he had promised to attend and he was supposed to volunteer more time at the church.
He decided that ignoring it was the order of things. Ignore, stick close to the fluids, and hope for the best. He was a grown man after all. Surely the same bug that took down a toddler wasn’t going to have the same effect on him.
Matt stifled what felt like his hundredth sneeze that day into his arm. He was grateful to be in his office where Foggy couldn’t see him. This cold or flu or plague that he’d picked up on Sunday was steadily getting worse. But even as Matt was maybe willing to admit to himself that he was feeling terrible he would be damned if he admitted it to anyone else. If he admitted it, Foggy would demand Matt stay home that night. And it was the only night all week where he’d be able to go out as Daredevil. Every other night was spoken for either with court the next day or Foggy’s dinner for Marci. He had to go out that night.
He also had to power through court. Although if he admitted it to himself, he wouldn’t mind missing Marci’s dinner. If he still had this cold then, he might just admit to it in order to get out of going.
He sighed as he tried to concentrate on what he was reading. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his throat felt like he’d swallowed razor blades. He could barely hear anything, which is why he jumped a mile when he suddenly heard Foggy’s voice near him.
“You doing OK, buddy? That was a pretty loud sigh.” Foggy had clearly entered Matt’s office and he hadn’t even noticed. He felt a hot flush begin to crawl up his face, as he broke out in a cold sweat. This was embarrassing. Hopefully Foggy wouldn’t notice. Matt focused on what was in front of him and tried to ignore the trickle of sweat moving down his back.
“I’m fine.” He said quickly, trying to smile in Foggy’s direction. “Just this case I’m reading,” he gestured to the Braille documents he’d been trying to read for the last hour.
“Must be pretty engrossing; you nearly jumped out of your skin when I spoke. I’m used to you knowing exactly where I am with those bat ears of yours.” Foggy leaned against Matt’s desk and Matt was disconcerted to find that he hadn’t sensed Foggy getting closer. Worse, a tickle was beginning to grow in his throat. He tried to ignore it, but a few coughs broke free as he answered Foggy.
“Sorry, yeah, my mind was elsewhere,” Matt reached for his mug. His tea had gone cold, but the stubborn tickle in his throat kept returning. He knocked back the rest of the tea, hoping it would soothe his raw throat.
“You sure you’re OK?” Foggy didn’t sound like he believed him and Matt didn’t blame him. He sounded like a cat with a hairball, and he was sure he probably looked flushed and sweaty, too.
“Yeah, just had a little tickle in my throat. I’m fine.” Matt swore to himself that he wasn’t lying to Foggy. He did have a tickle in his throat and he would be fine once he kicked this flu. He squashed down the guilt of what he wasn’t saying and nodded back at his desk.
“I better get back to this. Unless you needed something?” Please don’t let him need something, Matt thought anxiously to himself.
Foggy continued studying him for another moment while Matt did his best to look unconcerned and busy. Eventually Foggy gave up and left the office, letting Matt slump back into his chair. This was going to be a tough few days. But the mind controlled the body, he reminded himself. He could push through his week.
Unfortunately, while the mind might control the body on an average day, Matt was beginning to find that despite his best efforts, this flu was definitely in control right now. He had headed home after work, fighting through the fatigue to get suited up.
He was struggling to navigate properly, but the night air helped clear his head a little as he headed down to where the gang he had been tracking were last seen. He found two men clearly waiting for a shipment, which was what he’d been waiting for. But sitting still and waiting was making him shiver uncontrollably in his suit, and he was constantly having to muffle a cough or sneeze that would give away his position.
He was starting to think he just wasn’t going to get anywhere that night when a truck pulled in. The two men immediately began unloading crates into the back of the SUV they’d brought. Matt waited until the main truck had left, then jumped the two men.
Exhaustion had slowed his reaction time to a crawl, though, which made him miss more hits than he landed. The congestion in his head was also making it harder to detect what was coming, so he was also taking more hits than usual that night as well.
And just when he thought that he might finally be able to win this, one of them pulled a knife. A lucky shot got the blade into one of the few areas not reinforced on his suit, and the slice was deep.
It took the last of his strength to pull away and when he’d rallied enough to face his opponents again, he found they had taken advantage of the moment he had slowed and were now pulling quickly out of the parking lot.
For one second Matt considered trying to track them. But the bleeding stab wound and his worsening symptoms were making it impossible to think straight. There was no way he’d be able to track them, let alone with any type of stealth.
Instead, he took a minute to try and catch his breath. His coughing had gotten worse and he could feel congestion settling into his chest as well. He groaned thinking of how far he had to go just to get back to his apartment.
Worse luck the stab wound was in a place he couldn’t easily reach. He pulled his burner from his pocket to call Claire, then remembered that she was in China with Colleen.
He thought of Maggie next and paused. It was one thing to show up stabbed and ask for some stitches, but it was entirely another to show up stabbed when he clearly had the flu. Matt had been getting to know his mother better over the last year, and one thing he was sure of was that he had a lecture waiting for him that was going to blister his ears. He could only hope that this was all that was in store for him. Knowing Maggie, she might decide to force him to stay at the church, follow him home to make sure he was taking care of himself, call Foggy to have him force Matt to take care of himself, or some unholy combination of these very unwelcome ideas.
Unless he wanted to bleed out while suffering from the flu at the same time, though, he didn’t have any choice; he was going to have to face his mother and ask for help.
It took him a while to get to the church. He didn’t have a change of clothes, and he wasn’t sure he could handle his usual parkour over the rooftops in his current condition. That meant sticking to alleys and trying to stay out of sight. Thankfully the only person he came across was an old wino who blessed him in surprise when he began sneezing uncontrollably a few feet from where the man had been dozing.
Hopefully the man wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, and would chalk it up to the booze.
Finally, Matt made it to the church. He slipped around to the side of the building and found Maggie’s window. It took him far longer than it usually did as he was having trouble orienting himself or hearing what was going on inside.
Steeling himself, Matt knocked gently on the window. He’d inherited his terrible sleeping habits from Maggie; she was usually up when he came by at night and if she wasn’t, she woke up fast.
Sure enough a moment later, she was pushing up the window. “Matthew! It’s late even for you. How badly are you hurt? I don’t see any blood, but it’s not like you to come here just as a cry for attention.” She ran an eye over him, but the suit hid blood well.
“Just stabbed a little,” Matt replied sheepishly. “I’d take care of it myself, but it’s in a spot I can’t reach easily.”
Maggie sighed. “Alright. Go around to the basement stairs. I’ll be there in a moment.” She slid the window shut.
Matt turned toward the back of the building. Now to find the basement stairs without being able to smell the particular scent of damp they gave off. He decided to stay close to the building, trailing his fingers along the wall as he went until he bumped straight into the railing with a hiss of pain.
“Are you alright?” It was Maggie. She must have seen him collide with the railing. Matt tried to rally, hoping to put off the oncoming lecture as long as possible.
“Fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” Matt smiled in what he hoped was her direction as he groped for the railing and used it to guide him down the stairs. Maggie was silent, clearly watching him. She was rarely silent, so he was positive this was a bad sign.
Inside, Matt followed closely behind her toward the area she left set up for him on nights like this. It was in the area he had been staying after Midland circle. Sometimes coming back brought a pang of homesickness with it, not for the basement itself, but for Father Lanton and the bond he had been starting to build with Maggie before he realized who she really was. He began getting lost in his thoughts as he tried to navigate as normally as he could; his clogged ears making him feel like he was on a boat pitching on the ocean.
He sneezed once as he sat down heavily on the bed, trying and failing to stifle.
“Bless you! Get that suit off so I can see the damage.” Maggie was already pulling on gloves and opening her first aid kit.
Matt pulled off his suit top and tried not to shiver as the damp air hit him. Maggie sighed when she saw the wound and began cleaning it.
“Well, it’s deep, but I don’t think it hit anything important.” She pressed a gauze pad soaked in alcohol to the wound and Matt shivered hard at the sudden cold. Maggie noticed and narrowed her eyes.
She took up her needle and began stitching him up. Matt sneezed again, jerking under her hands and hissing from the sudden pain.
“Bless you! Are you feeling alright? It’s too early for this cut to be infected and you feel very warm to me.” Maggie kept one eye on her work while she studied him.
“I’m fine. Gets hot in the suit.” Matt purposely kept his face turned away from his mother’s so she wouldn’t see the lie on it. Maggie hummed as she finished stitching him up.
“Alright, are you hurt anywhere else? You’ve been breathing a little shallowly; are your ribs alright?” She pressed her hands to his ribs, they were cold and as they touched his feverish skin he gasped, which made him start coughing. The slight tickle in his throat from earlier had become a deep, wet cough that hurt his raw throat and stole his breath, leaving him panting when he was done.
“Matthew Michael Murdock,” Maggie began sternly. Here it was, he’d been a fool to think he could get away from this lecture for long. “Do not lie to me. How long have you been ill and what in God’s name possessed you to go out tonight?” Maggie was snapping off her gloves, as she spoke. The sound made Matt cringe.
“I’m fine,” he protested, “I’m just a little bit sick, but it’s really nothing.” He braced himself for what was to come even as he prayed that she believed him.
Maggie merely pressed her hand to his forehead to better gauge his temperature. Then she sighed, got up and left the room. Matt was surprised. This was not what he was expecting at all. A sarcastic lecture, her bullying him into street clothes while she called a cab, the moment when she called Foggy - those were the types of things he expected. Not her sudden leaving. He began to get nervous, wondering if she was washing her hands of him once and for all.
Before he had too much time to go down that path Maggie was back again. This time she pushed a thermometer under his tongue while she gently pushed the hair back from his forehead, stroking it. “I wish,” she told him softly, “That you would just be honest with me. Or, barring that, that you would take better care of yourself. You must have been feeling awful when you went out earlier. And the fact that those friends of yours didn’t stop you means that you didn’t tell them you were feeling poorly either. You wouldn’t have told me if you could have gotten away with it, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head, but continued stroking his hair. Matt sighed and shut his eyes, relishing the sensation.
The thermometer beeped and Maggie pulled it from his mouth before he could reach for it. She sighed again as she read it, “102.8. You should be in bed, not gallivanting around getting stabbed.” Her words were as acerbic as ever, but her tone was kind. “I’m going to draw you a tepid bath to help get your fever down. Then I’ll find you something clean to wear.” Maggie gave his head one more stroke before she slipped out to the bathroom. A moment later, Matt heard water running. Maggie returned shortly after with clean clothes and a towel. She handed them to him, steered him to the tub and then left him on his own.
Matt shivered even more in the tepid water. He knew she meant well and this was probably necessary, but it was torture. He stayed in as long as he could, then got out, quickly toweling himself dry and dressing in the clothes Maggie had provided.
He made his way slowly back to the main room, sneezing heavily every few feet.
“God bless you! Here,” Maggie handed him a handkerchief, “Blow your nose, then come with me.” She waited for him to take care of his nose, then held out her arm for him. Matt took it gratefully, but wondered where they were going.
Maggie led him upstairs to a room just off the kitchen. It was much warmer than the basement and Matt was relieved to sink down into an armchair.
“I’m going to get you some tea and aspirin,” Maggie told him before she left again. Matt dozed for a few minutes. Now that he was sitting down and the adrenaline of earlier had worn off, he was fully feeling just how awful this flu was. There was no way he was going anywhere the next few days, work, court, and Foggy’s dinner be damned.
He woke to Maggie’s hand on his shoulder. She handed him a cup of hot tea, then settled herself beside him.
“ I want you to drink all of that; it’s an old home remedy, a little ginger and some pepper. I put some honey in it, too, in case your throat was hurting.” She brushed her hand over his forehead again, checking his temperature.
“It is, thanks,” Matt sipped the tea gratefully. “I’ll be honest, I thought you were going to yell at me. Maybe call me an idiot and bully me into staying downstairs for the night,” he confessed.
Maggie chuckled, “Well the thought did cross my mind. But you look miserable, and your temperature is much too high. Let’s get you feeling better first, then we can have a long talk about self care, and the best way to take care of a sick person, particularly when that person is you. Now, be honest; how long have you been ill?”
“Since this morning,” Matt sighed. “I think I picked it up from the church nursery Sunday. One of the kids there was sick.”
“That’s right, I forgot you were assisting Michelle down there that day. She mentioned that one of the parents who should have known better had brought a sick child against our policies. I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of that.” Maggie did sound sorry. She was now rubbing soothing circles on his back and Matt found himself getting drowsy.
“Finish that tea,” Maggie prompted him. “And I have some aspirin and water for you as well. Now, would you like to spend the night here? Or I can accompany you back to your apartment? You don’t look like you can find the door right now if I’m honest.”
Matt sighed again, then sneezed. “Is it a problem if I stay here? Just until morning. I’m really tired,” he yawned and felt his eyes begin to close on their own. Maggie was still rubbing his back and he leaned unconsciously into her hand. She was rarely this nice to him. Matt wondered what was prompting what from Maggie was the equivalent of intense coddling. He couldn’t be that sick. Maybe she did have some maternal instincts toward him after all.
“Bless you. It’s not a problem. You can stay as long as you like. There’s an empty room next to mine right now; you can stay there. I don’t want you in that damp basement with a fever.”
Matt protested that the basement would be fine, but Maggie was adamant. “I’ll be next door if you need me, and it’s much warmer there; you’ll be more comfortable. Come on, up you get. I’ll take you there now.”
Maggie’s last act before retiring for the night was to apply Vapor Rub to Matt’s chest over his protests. The smell was more than he could bear, and even though he wiped it away once she was gone the scent lingered. It contributed to his sleepless night. Every time he’d be about to drop off, he’d startle himself awake coughing, or he’d roll to one side and the wound in his side would pull angrily. But the room was warm and Matt was too exhausted to move. He had been tired for weeks, if he let himself think about it. It was no wonder a single sneezing toddler was all it took to bring him to his knees.
Morning was a long time in coming. Gradually, as the night wore on, the cut in Matt’s side had begun throbbing even worse than before. Coupled with a sick nausea that had him trying to lay very, very still. He knew that Maggie had cleaned out the wound, but it was deep; something must have gotten trapped in it, and the growing infection was now compounding his misery from the flu.
He finally rose around dawn when he heard the nuns and children in the orphanage begin to get up. He figured he’d quickly step out to the bathroom, then find Maggie to take a look at his wound. But as soon as he stood, the room began to pitch and sway around him. Matt swallowed thickly, and slid his feet along the floor to the door, opening it and hurrying as fast as he could to the bathroom, holding the wall. He made it just in time to vomit into the toilet before sounds began to slip further away from him and he slid to the floor in a faint.
When he woke next it was to Maggie lifting his head. “Matthew! Matty! Matty, what happened?”
Matt groaned and tried to keep the nausea at bay, “M’okay. Just got dizzy,” he slurred as he tried to stand, leaning on his mother.
“Hold, on don’t move just yet,” she admonished him. “Did you hit your head? What happened?” She ran her hands over his head, checking for injuries.
“No, just got a little nauseous and dizzy on the way to the bathroom. I’m fine,” Matt answered, then winced, “OK. Not fine, but I didn’t hit my head.” He felt Maggie study him for another moment.
“Right. Let’s get you back to your room,” Maggie took more of his weight that he had thought possible on her slight frame as she helped him back down the hall. “Get back in bed,” she told him. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
“Wait,” Matt stopped her as she turned to leave. He lifted his shirt, turning to show her the wound, “Does this look infected to you? It’s causing me a lot of grief; I’m wondering if something got trapped in there.”
Maggie came closer, frowning. The cut was bright red around the edges, and as warm as he was from the fever, the skin directly around the cut was even warmer. “I think it might be. Alright, I’ll bring the first aid kit and some painkillers with me as well. We’ll get you sorted out.”
As Matt waited for her to return, his burner phone began to ring. Cursing, he realized that Foggy had probably tried to reach him on his cell, and when he didn’t answer he probably got nervous.
“Hello,” Matt winced as he spoke; his throat really hurt and vomiting a little while ago had not done it any favors.
“Matt! You alright? You weren’t answering your phone so I went by your place. We have court tomorrow, and I wanted to get a jump on things. Where are you?” Foggy sounded anxious and a little angry. Matt sighed, knowing he had every right to be.
“I’m at the church. I really hate to do this to you, buddy, but I have to take a sick day. And by sick day, I mean I really am sick. I’ve got the flu,” Matt broke off coughing. It hurt, but he figured it would probably convince Foggy that he was telling the truth.
“Jeez, you sound awful. But why are you at the church and why do you have your burner phone,” Foggy was beginning to sound suspicious. “You were sick yesterday afternoon, weren’t you? I thought something was off about you, but you wouldn’t admit it. And despite that, you clearly went out, too, right? I checked the trunk; your suit isn’t here.” Foggy had left suspicious and settled on anger. Matt sighed again.
“I was really hoping I could power through, go out last night, be at work today, and then still make it to court tomorrow. But this flu was worse than I was bargaining for. I was slow and I got stabbed. Came to the church so Sister Maggie could patch me up, and it was clear I was in no shape to go anywhere so she put me up for the rest of the night. If I could go in today, I absolutely would, but there really is no way I’ll make it.” Matt’s voice was gone at this point, and he coughed dryly every few words. He really hoped that Foggy would let this go for now so he could sink back into oblivion.
“Matt, buddy. We really have to have a talk about self care, and how to take care of a sick person,” Foggy sounded resigned, which was somehow worse than his anger for Matt.
“Maggie said the same thing,” Matt whispered, trying to save his voice.
“Good, then I’ll have someone on my side at the intervention then. We really need to talk about that work/life balance, buddy. Alright. You staying at the church? You need anything?” Foggy was clearly entering acceptance, and Matt was relieved. He felt like a bullet had been dodged.
“I’ll probably stay a little longer than maybe head home. I don’t need anything though. One of us needs to show up at court this week, and I don’t want to risk giving you this flu, too.” Matt cringed inwardly thinking that he was probably contagious yesterday. And last night. He sincerely hoped he didn’t get Foggy, Karen, and Maggie sick as well.
“Thankfully, unlike you, I got a flu shot this year,” Foggy told him, and Matt sighed with relief. “But if it’s just me at court tomorrow, I have my work cut out for me. Can I give you a call later to talk a few things through?”
“Absolutely. Call with anything, and I’ll do my best to assist you,” Matt broke off coughing again, said goodbye and hung up. How could he keep feeling so much worse? It’s like his body was ready to plumb new depths of suffering.
When Maggie returned a few minutes later, she carried a tray with breakfast, a bottle of painkillers, and the first aid kit. She insisted that Matt eat before she tend to his infected wound, but he could only manage a few bites, just enough to get something in his stomach with the painkillers.
Finally, he pushed the tray away and asked Maggie to cut the sutures so she could clean out the wound again.
“You’ll have to be brave for me,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood as she cut the sutures. Immediately, blood and discharge drained out. She took the time to clean much deeper into the wound this time, irrigating it well to flush out anything that could remain before she stitched it back up. By the time she was done, Matt was limp, sweating, and lightheaded. And while he was known for being able to take a great deal of punishment without complaint, at this point, he felt so terrible that tears began to slip from his eyes and he heard himself begin to whine slightly.
Maggie didn’t normally tolerate self pity, but she clearly saw how hard this was on him, because she merely stroked the hair off his forehead and pulled his shirt back down. “Why don’t you get some sleep,” she told him softly. “I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
Matt nodded wearily. He was intensely grateful to Maggie for her care. It was funny, he thought as he drifted off. He’d long ago given up on having a traditional mother and son relationship with her, but right then, he finally felt as though the last barriers between them were gone, and he truly felt his mother’s love for the first time.