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daredevilkink2015-06-22 07:24 pm
ddk_mod) wrote in daredevilkink2015-06-22 07:24 pm
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Prompt Post #4
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Stick V. Nelson-Murdock Part 2.2
(Anonymous) 2015-06-29 02:38 am (UTC)(link)The first breath was like fire, scalding his throat and making his ribs creak with the effort of it. The first bystander reached him then, already speaking with someone on the other end of the line. He spared a moment to feel guilty for contributing to an already pressing traffic problem. Somehow that seemed like his most pressing concern- get out of the street, which required standing first. Except that his legs didn’t want to cooperate and everything just seemed so damn bright.
He blinked the spots from his eyes and tried to stand again, annoyed when someone else approached from behind and pinned his shoulders, telling him to “Stay down” and “Don’t move.” He was conscious, he was breathing, couldn’t they see that? It was fine, and he needed to get into the office to tell Matt he was all right before he noticed all the commotion. No way his super-senses hadn’t picked up on that, and Matt’s relation with motor vehicles was questionable at best after all his own accident had cost him. He needed to be standing by the time Matt got here.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you’re fine. The ambulance is coming and you’re going to be fine.” It was aggravating how shaken the woman sounded, voice shaking worse than his hands were. He was fine.
“No, really, I just need to-”
The numbness fled all at once, cuts and scrapes and… frostbite? All of them checked in at once. Foggy gasped aloud, profanity pouring from his lips that probably would have made Matt’s old man blush.
Matt.
He could hear the sound of shoes pounding against the pavement, a counterpoint against the tap of a cane Foggy knew was a bare afterthought. Much as he hated himself for it, he was selfishly relieved; Matt was here and everything was going to be all right again because Matt simply wouldn’t let it be otherwise. The pain in his head finally let itself be known, nearly robbing him of consciousness just as Matt skidded to a stop at his side, completely forgetting to pretend he was anything less than a human wonder.
“Don’t touch him, sir- please-”
“Foggy. Shit, Foggy.”
Desperate hands cradled his face more gently than Foggy would have thought possible given how badly they were trembling. He tried so damn hard not to cry but it hurt and Matt’s face was a study in tragedy, fingers drifting over his face to glide across his eyes and over cuts and bruises he was only beginning to feel now. His fingers came away coated in blood, more than Foggy thought a body had a right to. It was enough to rob him of the last vestige of consciousness; he slipped under to the wail of sirens and an almost inaudible prayer.
“My God, please. Jesus, no.”
All the prayers the nuns had been at such pains to teach him deserted Matt, reducing him to incoherent pleas for mercy and bargains he would damn well keep if Foggy would just wake up and say his name right now. What the hell had happened?
He had heard the collision from his office, and though he would have been hard-pressed to say exactly how, he had known immediately that it was Foggy. Why the hell had he been in the street, what the hell had hit him, where was the driver? Matt was going to rip open the bastard’s rib-cage and squeeze their heart until it burst. He was going to enjoy the warmth of their blood on his hands, the same way he cringed from the feel of Foggy’s coating him now- his hands and cuffs were stained with the blood of the most important person in the world and someone was going to pay for it.
God helped those who helped themselves. Not a Catholic teaching according to his upbringing, but one that Matt had taken to heart at a very young age. Prayers turned to questions, shot like bullets at anyone who would listen. “What make was the car?”
“I saw it. Ford, silver-”
“Which direction did it go?”
“Wait for the police, they’ll-”
“Whichfucking way?”
“Headed South.”
“Plate?”
“New York. Had a 3 in it.”
None of which helped him, but it gave him a string to cling to, frail as it was.
The screech of tires taking a corner too fast and the deafening yelp of sirens had him tensing, unconsciously leaning over Foggy’s body to form a makeshift shield. He was Foggy’s emergency contact, but the paramedics wouldn’t know that; they would take Foggy from him and leave him trailing behind while Foggy might wake up panicking in an ambulance of all things. He had to be there, he had to go.
Nevertheless, he forced himself to pull away and surrender contact when he felt the medics draw near, taking comfort from the rattling tap of the stretchers wheels. Eight minutes to the hospital from here and Foggy’s heart was still going strong, his breathing was still normal though Matt could hear the groan of fractured ribs every time he drew a breath. He should have woken again; the extended unconsciousness pointed to a concussion or worse. Matt refocused, pushing away his anxiety in favor of his new mission: get into the ambulance by whatever means necessary.
“Sir, please, you need to move.”
He did, if reluctantly. There were more important battles to fight.
“I need to come along- would you prefer me in the back or front?” Never take no for an answer. Never even allow that it might be.
“I’m sorry, unless you’re related-” Matt could hear velcro and the click of metal pins, the shift of fabric as Foggy was ever so carefully moved to the bed. The medic’s tone was not unsympathetic, but it was an answer Matt was not willing to hear.
“We’re partners. I need to be there.” Let them infer from that what they would. Matt knew he had no legal leg to stand on but… he could hear the consideration in their silence, the slight increase in each one’s pulse. They were imagining their own loved ones here, spouses and partners and best friends. He could feel their mute acquiescence like the moment rain dispelled a humid day, the questioning glances and nods exchanged between them.
“Your cane-”
“I’ll leave it.” His voice was hoarse, cracking under a strain he hadn’t felt since that night spent replaying over and over the feel of his father’s still face under questing fingertips.
“No, here, prop it in the corner.”
For once he didn’t protest when one of them thoughtlessly snatched at his sleeve, guiding him after the stretcher and into the back cabin to a chair in the corner. The stretcher rattled in, Foggy rousing slightly from his unnatural faint at the jostling.
“Matt?”
“Here, Foggy. Right here.” It was a miracle he could get anything past the lump in his throat; his voice ached with the strain of it.
“Good.” Fear and relief mingled in equal measure. Almost Matt wished he could have slept through the trip to the hospital instead of clinging to the edge of the stretcher, pulse flying at a hundred and five beats per minute, gamely trying to answer every question while ignoring his pain.
Pain scale rating? “Four.” Foggy said, and Matt could feel the guilty glance in his direction, hear the way Foggy’s teeth clenched when they hit a pothole. He swallowed down the vomit that gave the lie to his words, gamely trying to force his limbs into some semblance of normal movement. His wrist was fractured- buckle fracture unless Matt missed his guess, and his shoulder popped ominously when he shifted against advisement. His neck wasn’t broken, but the medics couldn’t know that.
All the while Matt held his tongue, seething quietly. Every muffled whimper, every smothered curse might as well have been a knife twisting in his skin. He counted them all, each one of them a reminder of why he had never wanted Foggy drawn into his world, each one representing a minute that he was going to make the driver weep for his redemption.
God help them both.
Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock Part 2.2
(Anonymous) 2015-06-29 02:49 am (UTC)(link)--- *sobs* Foggy, you are too good for this world.
Matt was here and everything was going to be all right again because Matt simply wouldn’t let it be otherwise.
--- HIS FAITH IN MATT *cries*
Prayers turned to questions, shot like bullets at anyone who would listen. “What make was the car?”
--- Oh, Matt, vengeance is not what you or Foggy need right this second. T_T
Jesus, Matt's desperation and panic and holy fuck, Stick better get his ass served to him on a fucking hot plate, oh my god, Foggyyyyyyyy! ;____; I need to go read or write something fluffy now. ;_____;
Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock Part 2.2
(Anonymous) 2015-06-30 02:22 am (UTC)(link)Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock Part 2.2
(Anonymous) 2015-06-29 03:58 am (UTC)(link)I am on the edge of my seat now. Aaaah.
T_T
Can't wait for the next part. I really really love this so far!
Re: Stick V. Nelson-Murdock Part 2.2
(Anonymous) 2015-06-30 02:23 am (UTC)(link)