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Matt tilted his head back, bleary, unseeing eyes trained on a sky he’s long forgotten the beauty of. His chest aches and his throat tightens as the sound of Foggy’s slowing heart fills his ears again. The sound of Karen’s desperate cries echoing through him.
He closes his eyes tightly, lowering his head as he lifts his hands to cover his ears. No amount of pressure rid him of the sounds that have been haunting him for months now. He knew it wouldn’t, it’s all in his head after all.
He’s always found his ability to hear heartbeats fascinating. A detail about himself that he frequently took advantage of, that he thoroughly enjoyed at times even. He could sniff out lies, confirm truths, overhear interesting details and stories from people, could understand people in ways that he wouldn’t be able to otherwise due to his lack of sight. But never once, amidst all of that, did he think he’d have to listen to the slowing of his best friend’s heart until it inevitably came to a stop. He couldn’t listen to heartbeats the same way anymore. Each one reminded him of Foggy, each one he feared would suddenly slow and stop as if it were Foggy.
“Red,” a gruff voice called from across the rooftop.
The voice pulled him from his thoughts, finally silencing the repeating memory and allowing Matt to breathe for a moment. He half lifts his head, hands hovering near his jaw, prepared to cover his ears again, despite knowing that never works.
“You alright?”
It finally registered in his brain who exactly is on the rooftop with him. He’d usually curse himself for not being more aware, but he didn’t have the energy to do that right now. He tilts his head away again, lowering his hands to rest in his lap. “What are you doing here, Frank?”
Frank sighs, stepping closer.
Matt could tell he’s nervous. He didn’t know why. Maybe it’s the fact a blind man is sitting at the edge of a very tall building, but he knew Frank wouldn’t underestimate him like that. Though maybe it’s not the blindness that has him nervous.
“I heard about Foggy,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Red.”
He scoffs. “You’re sorry? I wasn’t expecting that. I was expecting a ‘I was right’ from you.”
“About?”
Matt sighs, so he hadn’t heard that detail. “I tried to kill the man who did it.” Frank stayed silent, so he continued explaining. “I had him in my hands right in this very spot, Frank. I think he was planning on jumping off himself, but I stopped him. I held onto him, kept him from escaping. But then, his heart stopped. I heard Foggy’s heart stop, Frank. And I… I lost it. I fought with it for a bit, but then I just, threw Poindexter. He was supposed to die. I… I wish he did.” His hands fumbled with one another in his lap as he admitted the very thing he’d been battling with since that night. Although, it wasn’t the type of internal battle he’d hope to feel. He doesn’t regret it, he wants him dead, he wanted to kill him for taking Foggy away from him. But that part of him that clings to God, to religion, that kept that stable moral of not killing going, fought against it.
Matt lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “So you were right. I really was just one bad day away from becoming you.”
“That’s not true,” Frank finally spoke up. “If you were me, you woulda made sure that guy was dead. If he lived, you’d make sure it didn’t stay that way. He’s in holding though, waiting for his trial. You’re still you, Red.”
He sits with that, restless hands stilling for just a moment as he tries to wrap his brain around that. “Why are you comforting me, Frank?”
“Cause I know what it’s like,” he responds. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love ripped away from you. It was a good night, wasn’t it? Everything felt good and right, yeah?”
Matt can only manage a nod.
“I know what that’s like and… I wanted to make sure you were holdin up alright.”
“Wanted to make sure I wasn’t becoming you.”
Frank sighs. “If that’s how you want to think of it, sure.”
“I put down the cowl, Frank. There’s no need to worry about that. I’m focusing on being a lawyer. I’m done with this vigilante stuff. It’s what got Foggy killed.” He turns his back to Frank when the man came to sit beside him.
“You like this to Karen too?”
“Oh she’s gone.”
Frank looked over at him, staring at the back of his head as confusion overtook him. “Really?”
Matt lets out a little laugh, “Yeah, she just packed up and left. San Francisco. Haven’t heard from her since everything.” He curses at the tears falling down his cheeks and tosses his glasses aside in favor of grounding the edges of his palms into his eyes.
“Easy, Red,” Frank murmurs, lifting a hand to rest it on his back. “Don’t isolate yourself.”
“I’m not, I’ve got a new firm starting up with Kirsten McDuffie, the assistant DA, and Cherry. He’s retired from the NYPD now, but he wanted to help me out. He actually found out about Daredevil that night. He came up to the roof with a gun to help and saw me without the helmet. So I’m not alone.”
“You are.”
Matt sighs and properly covers his face with his hands.
“Emotionally you are.” Frank sighs. “Look, I know I’m not good at this, but I’m probably the best person to talk to about this shit. You can’t just keep it bottled up, Red, it’ll eat you alive and you’ll do shit you’ll regret.”
“Why are you here? I haven’t seen you in god knows how long.”
Frank lets his hand slide off of Matt’s back. “I’m not sure myself.”
Matt nods, but has no other reply. He curls in on himself more, wishing the grief eating at him would just disappear.
“Did you love him?”
“What?”
“Did you love Foggy?” Frank repeats, watching the way Matt shifts to partially face him.
Matt knew he didn’t mean it in the way of loving friends. Or in the way of loving family. Frank wouldn’t ask if it was either of those, it would’ve just been obvious.
“You can tell me, Red.”
He could only manage a nod as he slowly returned to his previous position.
Frank nods to himself and places his hand on Matt’s back again, tempted to try and pull him closer, but he didn’t try. “It’s okay.”
Matt’s expression contorted into something ugly and messy as he felt himself rapidly unraveling. Tears began to fall uncontrollably and a sob trapped in his throat choked him violently. Grief and the guilt and relief of the confession hit him all at once, overtaking him and shaking him to his very core. He shattered like a tea cup falling to a floor. Pieces of him and his various masks and facades scattered across the rooftop around him. He felt raw and bare, empty, yet so full. It was too much.
This time, Frank didn’t hesitate. He got off the ledge and pulled Matt down with him so that they’d both be secure and safe. He curls around him, arms and legs providing security as the lawyer falls apart before him. His hands attempt to cover Matt’s ears, trying to dull out the noise of the city as he holds him together. He doesn’t say much, only holds him, rocks him, and tries to tell him it’s okay. He doesn’t even know if Matt can hear him. His heart aches as he remembers wishing someone had been there to hold him together after his wife and children died. He wishes he had let someone in all that time ago.
“I miss him so much,” Matt sobs, clinging to Frank like a liferaft amidst the raging sea he’d found himself in. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”
“I know, Matt, I know,” Frank tries to soothe him, shifting a hand off his ear and into his hair. “You’ll find a way, you will.”
“I don’t want to!” His words are ripped from him suddenly by chokes and sobs, it takes him minutes to recover his breath enough to try and continue. “I just want Foggy…”
Frank can’t find a response for that, just holds him tighter and does his best to hold the both of them together.
Matt doesn’t remember falling asleep, he doesn’t remember leaving the roof, yet he finds himself tucked into bed at his rundown loft. He can tell his eyelids are puffy and swollen, which he remembers the crying. He remembers the grief, the guilt, the relief.
As he pushes himself up, his memories of the night slowly fade back in. He remembers Frank’s words, the way he held him until he stopped crying. He doesn’t know how to feel about the comfort it brought him.
A heartbeat in the other room draws his attention and so does the smell of freshly brewed coffee. He pushes the questions and memories aside for now, and focuses on getting himself up. He’s still dressed how he was last night, so Frank must’ve carried him home.
He steps out into the main area of his loft and hears Frank’s gruff good morning and returns it with a tired question of, “what are you still doing here?”
“Someone had to make sure you’d be okay,” he replies, pressing a mug of coffee into Matt’s hands as soon as he was close enough.
“Carrying me home and putting me to bed wasn’t good enough?”
Frank chuckles, but the humor fades quickly. “After what I witnessed last night, it’s not.”
Matt frowns and turns away, taking a sip of the coffee. A part of him is surprised Frank still remembers how he likes it. “So I’m guessing everything I remembered really did happen.”
“I can’t read your mind, Red, so I can’t really confirm that.”
Matt rolls his eyes at that and makes his way to the couch. “You don’t have to stay, I’m fine, Frank, really.”
Frank sighs. “I don’t believe that.”
“You’ll have to.”
“Let me be here for you,” Frank presses.
“Why should I?”
Frank struggles to find a response, so he stays silent.
“I don’t want your pity, Frank. You can leave now.”
“It’s not pity that I’m giving you.”
“Then what is it?”
“Care.”
“From you? Really? I didn’t think that was possible.”
Frank has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from lashing out and he takes a step back, setting his mug on the counter and opting to clean up his mess til he could respond calmly. “People change,” is all he said when he finally trusted himself to speak again.
“Did you used to be a big softy?”
“I tried to be. It’s hard when the military beats it out of you, but I tried, for my wife, for my kids. Losing them took it from me again… but I’m tired of being bitter and angry all the time.”
“Really? I thought that was your whole thing?”
“Matt.”
The usage of his actual name and the tired edge to Frank’s voice grabbed his attention and a pang of guilt shot through his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to plan his next words. “I don’t want you to go through what I had to.”
“I’ll be fine, Frank.”
“You say that, but last night was…”
“I get it, last night was a mess, but I’ll be fine. It’s only been two and a half months. I just need time.”
“You shouldn’t be alone. And don’t you dare bring up your law firm buddies if you’re not gonna actually let them in.”
Matt’s response died in his throat. “Why do you want to take care of me so bad?”
“I said it already. I don’t want you to go through what I had to. In the moment, I felt like I needed to be alone. I felt like isolation was best. But now, looking back on it, I wish I had someone there to pull me out of it. I wish I had someone there to support me. I wish I wasn’t alone through my grief. I had a friend, but I kept him at a distance. He tried, but at the same time, I set such harsh boundaries that he didn’t even dare to try too hard. That’s how I became the Punisher. It wasn’t just grief, it wasn’t just the fucked up justice system, it was being left alone with it all.” He sighs, putting his hands on the counter by his mug. “This state doesn’t need a second Punisher.”
He didn’t have an argument for that. He couldn’t even think of anything that could fairly rebuttal that admission. “So, what is this going to look like?”
“I’ll leave right now if you want me to, but I’ll visit. We can go drinking, or we can stay here, I don’t know. It’s up to you.”
Matt weighs that choice in his mind, but his heart beats it to the punch. “I don’t want you to leave.” He sighs, head tilting down to face the mug in his hands. With those words out there between the two of them, there was no point in fighting anymore “Is there anything on TV you like watching?”
“A few.” It felt like an abrupt change in subject, but he knew it was a start. Matt was trying to give him an opening, he’d be an idiot to not take it after all of this.
“Why don’t you come show me?”
Frank smiles. “Alright, I can’t promise they’ll be any good though.”
“Oh yeah?” Matt laughs, mind wondering what the hell the Punisher would spend his time watching that’d make him say that. He realizes though, he doesn’t have to guess or wonder. He could actually find out and that seemed… nice. He spent so much time at odds with Frank, he didn’t realize it’d feel so nice to get to know him. Maybe it’s just some sort of trauma bond, but right now, he’s not going to let that matter to him.