daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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Matt frowned as he flipped the pancakes in the frying pan, one ear perked up like he was listening for something.

"Is something wrong?" Karen asked as she got ready to leave to check in on the office and pick up necessary files so that Matt could work from Foggy's apartment.

Matt sighed. "No, nothing. Just listening to Foggy singing to himself in the shower. He's doing Les Mis today. Yesterday it was the soundtrack to the movie Beetlejuice." He chuckled to himself, but Karen could tell that it was a desperate attempt to lift his own spirits.

"It's nice to hear him sing, isn't it?" she said.

"I just..." Matt said, stumbling over his words, "I wish it wasn't the only time I heard him do it anymore. I miss the sound of his voice, Karen."

"I know," Karen said, and she thought that she did.

"No," Matt said, slamming his hand down on the counter. "You don't. Because you get to see him, Karen. You get smiles and tears and silly faces. His voice - the way he used to joke and fill the silence with nonsense, the way that he would narrate the world for me that I couldn't experience, gestures and television and even the weather - that was all I had with him for so long. And as much as I love being able to feel him, know what's going on in his head, and being able to share things with him that I've never been able to share with anyone, it's not the same. I love him now, I do, but I miss who he was."

"Matt," Karen said gently as she headed towards the door, "You know he knows that, right?"

The bathroom door creaked open, and Foggy's slowly stepped out in his robe and clutching a towel like a security blanket.

"I'm going to leave you two alone," Karen said. "I'll be back in a little while. You two don't party too hard while I'm gone." The door shut with a thud behind her that seemed to echo in the quiet of the apartment.

"I'm sorry," Matt said finally. "I know how hard this is for you. It's selfish for me to want something you can't give me. For me to make you feel bad about any of this."

Foggy walked towards Matt and shook his head no. "Matt," he finally said and Matt gasped when he saw Foggy's lips move as he said it, heard his voice for the first time in weeks. "I'm sorry," Foggy said. "I got caught up in all this. I didn't think it meant that much to you."

"Of course it does," Matt said. "It meant..." but he stopped himself "means," he corrected, "everything to me."

"Okay," Foggy said, and he hugged Matt to him. "I'll try. I promise I'll try."

Matt just cried softly into his shoulder while Foggy rubbed his back.

"Do you want me to do Les Mis out here for you? The acoustics aren't as good, but the shower won't distort it." Matt laughed at him, a feeling of relief sweeping over him that he hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. "Since you like my voice so much," Foggy continued, "Despite you telling me in college, oh what was it again... that it reminded you of a cat being run through a wood chipper? It was very descriptive, I remember."

Foggy laughed too. He had forgotten how great it felt and resolved to make it happen more often.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Matt asked as he packed his laptop into his bag.

Foggy laughed at Matt's fussing, and gently sent him feelings or reassurance.

"I know, I know," Matt said with a smile. "I'm a mother hen. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I worry about you."

"I know, buddy," Foggy said, "But I'll be okay. I need you as a partner more than I need you as a friend today. Because of me, we haven't picked up enough business lately to make sure we can keep the lights on, so you and Karen need to make this one count. Land this client, Matt. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" Matt asked.

"Yeah!" said Foggy, "I've been really getting into the zone with you when we meditate, and all those techniques you taught me - the breathing exercises, how to find focus points - they've been really working. Go, already!"

Foggy practically shoved Matt out the door and locked it behind him, reaching out to ensure that he hadn't been too rude. It amused him that Matt seemed to be having a harder time letting go than he did.

As Foggy leaned against the door, he was pleased to find that even as Matt got further away, he could still feel him on the edge of his consciousness, and could feel Karen even though she was already at the office. They were a part of him now, and knowing that helped him calm himself as a flood of emotions battered him and a mild panic began to rise in his chest.

He breathed deeply and counted the breaths as Matt had taught him, then closed his eyes and set to work separating the various emotions happening around him into distinct thoughts, feelings and memories belonging to individual people. In the past few weeks, he had learned that taking the care and energy to separate them helped him keep them separate from himself and establish the distance he needed to function. It was tiring, but he was getting better at it. He hoped that someday he could learn to do it instinctively and effortlessly, the way that Matt had learned to block and use his senses as necessary.

As he slowly sifted through all of the emotions happening around him, he became aware of a particular set of strong feelings coming from the other side of his front door. There was a child there. And they were having a panic attack.

He opened the door a crack and peered out. His neighbor's son was sitting on the floor, banging his head against his own front door repeatedly. He couldn't have been more than ten years old. He looked up and caught Foggy staring, gasping in surprise. Foggy panicked and slammed the door quickly.

Slowly, he opened it again so that the kid could see him. "Hey," he said. "Where's your mom?"

"I don't know," said the boy. "She was supposed to be here when I got home from school."

"You don't have a key?" Foggy asked.

"No," said the boy. "She's always here."

The kid was freaked out. Where the hell was his mother?

"Does your mom have a cell phone?" Foggy asked. "You could use my phone to call her."

"I don't know her number," said the boy. "Where is she? She's supposed to be here. I'm not supposed to be home alone."

"I'm sure she's fine," he said, and Foggy gently reached out, worried that the boy would sense what he was doing even if he might not know how he did it, and tried to send a sense of calm and reassurance his way. He visibly calmed, and Foggy breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I'm Foggy," he said.

"That's not a real name," said the boy.

"Is too," Foggy insisted, sensing that the boy might respond to him stooping down to a child's level. Kids always loved that, he knew.

"I'm Mark," came the response, accompanied by a small smile.

"I'll tell you what, Mark," said Foggy, "why don't you come in and wait with me for now, and I'll see if maybe the super has your mom's number so we can find her."

"Okay," Mark said, shuffling through Foggy's front door with his backpack in his hand.

While Mark got settled on the couch and turned on the television, Foggy looked up the super's number in his own cell phone and made the call. The conversation was brief, but productive. The super couldn't give out another tenant's phone number, but he agreed to call Mark's mother to let her know what was going on.

With that out of the way, Foggy hesitantly took a spot on the couch next to Mark, who had found an episode of Spongebob Squarepants to watch.

"What's wrong with you?" Mark asked abruptly.

"What?" Foggy asked. "That's a really rude question. Why would you think something's wrong with me?" He knew that there was no malice behind it, only a child's curiosity.

"My mom says that you're weird. I heard her talking to Mrs. Owens on the other side of us, and she said that you're a drunk," Mark said. "Mrs. Owens said that you stopped coming out but that you had friends living with you and she's talked to them. She said you must be hard up if a blind guy's the one taking care of you. I've seen him around sometimes with his sunglasses and his cane. He's real serious all the time. Are you dying?"

Foggy giggled at the child's stream of consciousness train of thought. "No," he said. "Not dying. Just having a hard time, like Mrs. Owens said. Boy, this building's full of busybodies. How did I not know that before?"

Mark shrugged like he didn't know, and Foggy appreciated how literally the kid took his question.

"My friend Matt is really serious all the time, isn't he?" Foggy asked.

"I'd be serious too if I couldn't see anything. I'd have to concentrate real hard to know where I was going," Mark said. Foggy liked Mark a lot.

"Do you have homework or something you should be doing?" Foggy asked.

"Nope," said Mark. Foggy knew he was lying, so he turned off the television. Mark whined and threw his arms up in the air like he was having a seizure. But eventually he pulled a stack of homework out of his backpack and spread it over Foggy's coffee table.

Later that night, Matt went to put his keys in the door, but was surprised to find it open. When he and Karen entered, their eyes widened at the site in front of them.

There Foggy sat, surrounded by a half-dozen moms from the building, listening intently as they gossiped and complained while their kids sat at his dining room table with coloring books open. "I cannot believe he did that to you!" Foggy said, and Matt and Karen recognized through their connection to him that Foggy was actually encouraging the women to continue, sending them feelings of confident empowerment as they dished. "I know, right?" one of the women said.

Foggy noticed that his friends were home and looked up, a sheepish grin on his face. "Oh, uh, hi guys!"

"Hi," they said, not sure what exactly they were looking at. As Karen looked over at Matt, she was amused by the wide grin on his face, fondness apparent. In her head, Karen could almost hear Matt saying "That's just like Foggy, isn't it?" and realized that maybe all the time she and Matt had spent together had bonded them too, even if they didn't have mutant powers.

Oh Foggy, you're a gossip too!

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Prompt Post #4

FILL: A World of Emotions (6b/7)

Re: FILL: A World of Emotions (6b/7)