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Fill: You Find Someone to Carry You

[(Anonymous)]

There have only been two instances in Matt’s life when he truly thought he was going to die. The first was when he was gasping for air with a collapsed lung on Claire’s couch, gasping and choking until she relieved the pressure. The second is now.

Matt’s shot in two places – his shoulder and the inside of his thigh. He was trying to prevent two goons with semi automatic rifles from robbing a bank and he just wasn’t quick enough (damn semi automatics). He managed to disarm them both and knock them unconscious despite his injuries before secreting himself in a dingy alley a few blocks away. He tries to apply pressure to both wounds at the same time, but the blood still seeps sticky and warm from under his fingers. They didn’t hit his femoral artery – he’d be dead by now if they had – but he’s still bleeding enough that he knows he’s not going to last long. He already feels hazy and disoriented from blood loss, but he forces himself to stay alert, to follow simple commands. Claire. Call Claire.

He takes his hand off of his shoulder long enough to reach for the burner phone in a pocket of his suit, but his thumb hovers above the keypad. Despite Claire’s medical training, despite her supplies, despite any sort of logic, there’s a voice in his brain shouting Foggy! Call Foggy! Maybe it’s because Matt’s in pain or because he’s so disoriented, but the voice seems right. Matt dials Foggy’s number.

Foggy picks up after the second ring.

“Hey, Matt! Everything alright?” Foggy’s trying to sound casual, but there’s a note of real concern in his voice.

Matt opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. He clears his throat and tries again. Just tell him what happened.

“I’ve been shot in my arm and my leg and I –

“What? You got shot? By an actual bullet?” Foggy’s voice is too high and somewhat hysterical. He’s not taking this as well as Matt had hoped. “Oh my god! Okay, where are you?”

Matt tells him where the alley is.

“I’ll be right there, buddy. We’ll get you to Claire. Just hang on, okay? Five minutes. Please, just hang on.”

He hangs up.

Matt forces himself to slow his respiration and his heart rate. If he’s bleeding out, there’s no need to speed up the process. He focuses on his breath and sends up a quick prayer that no one happens across him before Foggy gets there.

He hears Foggy’s heartbeat a block away, pounding fast. He’s sprinting, weaving and dodging around other pedestrians with a shouted “excuse me” before reaching the alley.

“Hey, Matt, you in there?”

“Right here,” Matt manages weakly. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. I wasn’t just going to leave you here.”

“I - I didn’t want to die alone.” Matt hates himself for admitting it, but he finds himself feeling less inhibited when he’s dizzy with blood loss.

In a second, Foggy’s at his side, taking off the mask. Matt can feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

“Wait, what? Who said anything about dying, alone or otherwise? Remember Games of Thrones? The God of Death and all that? Remember? Not today, okay? Not. Fucking. Today.” It sounds like he’s begging.

“Okay,” Matt says, making a promise he doesn’t think he can keep. “Not today.”

“Just hang on, Matt. It’s okay. Really, it’s okay. But we gotta stop the bleeding.”

Matt didn’t realize he had stopped applying pressure until Foggy says that. The thought floats fuzzily around his head until he grounds himself back in the present.

“What’re you doin’?” Matt slurs. Foggy’s wrapping something around his upper thigh.

“Tourniquet,” he explains. “I brought these two really awful scarves my sister gave me for Christmas last year that I thought I’d never use. Turns out I was wrong, huh?”

Foggy’s now tying a scarf around his arm. It’s uncomfortably tight and Matt groans a little in protest. Foggy pushes his hair back from his face, a soothing hand over his forehead, dry and warm. It’s only for a moment and Matt misses the feeling of it when Foggy moves away.

“Okay, now I’m gonna need your help. We gotta get a sweatshirt and some pants on you.”

“Wha’?”

“You can’t exactly traipse around the streets of New York in that ridiculous red suit, can you? Not that you’re really up for traipsing at the moment, but that’s not the point. We gotta slip these on.”

“Think of everything, don’ you?”

“Yeah, well, I try. Now arms up.”

With enormous effort, Matt raises his arms above his head and Foggy pulls the sweatshirt on over him.

“It’s got Mickey Mouse on it. You look very stylish.” Foggy keeps making jokes but Matt can hear the strain in his voice. Matt wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to do that. Matt can be the strong one and Foggy can just be Foggy, but it’s too complicated a sentence for him to manage.

By the time Matt pulls himself back out of his haze, he’s wearing a pair of jeans. He doesn’t remember Foggy putting them on.

“We’re leaving the helmet here, but we’ll come back for it. Let’s go.”

“Can’t walk,” Matt explains.

“I know, buddy. That’s why I’m doing this.”

In one fluid movement, Foggy slips one arm under Matt’s knees and one under his shoulders and lifts him with surprising ease. Matt vaguely thinks that this arrangement would be embarrassing under normal circumstances, but all he can think now is that Foggy feels warm and solid and Matt can hear his heartbeat so clearly with his head against Foggy’s chest.

“Your heart,” Matt mumbles, before he can stop himself. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah, good, just listen to my heart, okay? Just listen and stay with me. We’re going to Claire’s.”

Once Matt’s positioned snugly against Foggy’s chest, Foggy starts running out of the alley, his heart growing faster. Matt listens as the rhythm increases, blocking out everything but the percussive thump. He keeps running when they reach the street, carrying Matt as if he doesn’t weigh a thing.

Foggy dashes down the street and Matt presses against his chest, listening, but it’s not long before he feels his eyes begin to close. He’s so tired and it would be so easy just to drift off into nothingness. Simple, relaxed, painless. He feels unconsciousness begin to creep in around the edges of his brain until –

“Hey, you gotta stay with me.”

Damn Foggy’s voice. He just wants to sleep, to let go, but Foggy’s asking him not to. Matt will do anything he asks.

“Listen to my heart, remember? We’re halfway there. Five more blocks. Just listen.”

Matt listens, focuses. He said he wouldn’t die today and he doesn’t want to lie to Foggy anymore. He wants that promise to be the truth. So he listens. The rest comes in fragments.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

They run to Claire’s building.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Up the stairs and onto her couch.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Stitches and needles and a white hot pain so intense that Claire puts a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Finally a pill and a sip of water and an “Okay, buddy, you can sleep now.”

xXx

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

It’s the first sound Matt’s aware of when he wakes up. Foggy’s awake, sitting in a chair beside him back at Matt’s apartment.

“Hey! You’re up!” Foggy sounds pleased and a little surprised.

“How’d we get here?” Matt asks groggily. The last memory he has is of lying on Claire’s couch.

“I carried you back, kinda the same way we got to Claire’s.”

“Oh, right, thanks for that.” Matt feels a wave of humiliation as he recalls last night, being carried bridal style and snuggling against Foggy’s chest. Not one of his more dignified moments.

“Hey, no problem.” Foggy pauses. “So.. um, how much do you remember from last night?”

Something in his voice doesn’t sound right.

“I remember getting shot and then calling you and then you, uh, carried me to Claire’s. I kinda lose it after that; something really hurt and then I fell asleep. But that’s about it.”

“That was probably the impromptu cauterization. Not the nicest method, but you were bleeding out and we didn’t really have a choice.” Foggy swallows and Matt hears his heart rate pick up. “But you don’t remember anything else? You don’t remember saying anything?”

“I remember promising you I wouldn’t die.”

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it?”

“Is there more?” Matt feels a growing sense of dread. He could’ve said all sorts of embarrassing, private things when he was half-delirious with blood loss.

Foggy takes a deep breath and shifts in his chair.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you what you said because that’s what I’d want someone to do for me and I think you have a right to know. But I want to preface this by saying that I’m not going to hold you to anything you said last night. You hardly knew your own name so I’m not going to assume you meant any of those things you said. If you tell me you didn’t, we move on and I’ll never speak of this again.”

“Okay,” Matt says, dread now sitting heavy in his stomach. “Hit me with it.”

“Well, what you got to understand is that you were way out of it, completely delirious. So you would end up picking a phrase and just sort of repeating it over and over.”

“Like what?”

“You said my name a lot.”

“Okay.” Not so bad so far, but Matt assumes there’s more.

“And when Claire was cauterizing your wounds you kept begging me to make it stop and it probably only took about thirty seconds total, but it’s up there on the list of Worst Thirty Seconds of My Life. You were screaming for me to help you, Matt, and there wasn’t anything I could do and just… God, I thought I was going to throw up just listening to it.”

Foggy puts his head in his hands and threads his fingers through his hair, breathing fast, the way he does when he’s trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry. You know I’d never do that to you, but I just… last night I just wasn’t really there. I’m sorry.” Matt says softly. He clenches his jaw, hating himself. He can’t imagine what he must’ve put Foggy through.

Foggy sits back up.

“But that’s the thing, Matt – you’d never let yourself say that out loud, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel it. You still come into the office with cracked ribs and stab wounds and head injuries and you act like everything’s fine but it still has to hurt like hell.”

Matt doesn’t really have a counter argument to that, so he changes the subject.

“Did I say anything else?”

“Uh,” Foggy’s heart is speeding up again and Matt can feel blood rushing to the surface of the skin of Foggy’s cheeks. He’s blushing. “Here’s where we get into the more incriminating territory. Remember, say the word and we never speak of it again.”

“Just tell me, Foggy.”

“Well, there was a lot of ‘please don’t leave me,’ which I didn’t really understand because I wasn’t going anywhere. I kept trying to tell you that. A lot of ‘I’m so sorry’ too, which, again, didn’t make sense because you didn’t really have anything to apologize for.”

Matt presses his lips together. The neediness, the begging – it’s all pretty humiliating.

“What else?’

Foggy’s heart starts hammering, faster and faster.

“You, uh, you told me you loved me. A lot. And you kept reaching out towards me until I finally sat next to Claire’s couch and just sort of… held you hand until you fell asleep. And then you woke back up and kept asking to go home. Claire didn’t want you to, but you were getting yourself pretty worked up and we didn’t think that was good for you so I took you back here. And then there was more of the ‘don’t leave’ type stuff. And a little more of the ‘I love you’ stuff. And then you fell asleep. That was pretty much it.”

“Oh,” is all Matt can say.

“Seriously, you probably didn’t even know who you were talking to, so just say the word and this is all permanently forgotten. Wiped from my memory Eternal Sunshine style.”

Foggy’s heart is still rabbit-quick.

“But what would happen if I didn’t tell you to forget all of it?” Matt can’t believe he’s asking this, but he remembers Foggy carrying him last night, feeling warm and content in his arms. He’s not ready to give that up, never feel that again.

“If you... what?" Foggy clearly wasn't expecting that answer, but he quickly regains his composure. "Then I guess I’d say something like ‘wow, Matt, I’ve wanted to hear that for a really long time! Maybe we should go out when you’re not half-dead on the couch.’”

Matt smiles ear to ear.

“I don’t want to wait until I’m not half-dead. Let’s go today.”

“Move fast, don’t you, Murdock?” Foggy teases. “How about we order in? Chinese sound good?”

“Perfect,” Matt says, and he means it.

Re: Fill: You Find Someone to Carry You

[(Anonymous)]

Oh my gosh, this is so lovely.