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Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

45.

"What did you do to him today?" Karen asks as she enters the kitchen. At Matt's raised brows she points behind herself at the staircase. "Jackie? I was showing him the Amsterdam pictures and he just fell asleep. We didn't see most of the pics, we didn't even get to the presents yet! What did you do today?"

"Softball in Central Park," Matt says. "Barton's in town with his kids, Luke brought Dani, they played a few rounds. But this might be a good thing," he adds, "Jack falling asleep. Otherwise you'd have to show those pictures all over again to Kirsten."

"I don't mind coming over again, Matt," Karen grins, "as long as you don't cook."

"Very funny," he murmurs. "You're staying?"

Karen shakes her head. "I need to go back home, take a long bath, sleep in my own bed for the first time in seven months. My own bed, Matt."

"It is a nice bed."

Foggy looks at his watch. Nine o'clock. "I should get going too," he says. "I need to be at the office early tomorrow."

"Foggy, it's Sunday," Matt reminds.

"And we still have a potential client coming in for a talk." Foggy grins. "The publishing business is not for the weak, Murdock."

Matt walks them to the door. He hugs Karen and bids Foggy goodbye with a wave of his hand. Foggy and Karen get into the elevator together; Karen is trying very hard to look anywhere but at him.

"So," he starts, "a PhD. What's the topic?"

Karen shoots him an irritated glance. "The international criminal jurisdiction over superpowered individuals," she tells him nevertheless.

"Wow."

She nods. They fall silent again. Once they get out of the elevator, Karen rushes towards the door; Foggy follows her.

"Karen!" he calls after her. "Are you taking a taxi?"

"I'm going to take a walk."

She leaves the building and starts walking, towards the park. It's going to be summer soon and the days are long now, so it's still quite bright outside. The sun is setting over New York and reflects gold in Karen's hair.

Foggy catches up with her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

She huffs angrily. "Yes, actually, I do."

"You're angry with me."

"No shit," Karen says.

"Because I left."

"Because you--" She starts laughing, loud and hollow. It's an ugly laugh. Karen he remembers never laughed like that. "That's certainly one way to put it."

Foggy frowns. "I don't follow."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't, actually." She looks at him, clearly surprised. "Karen. I don't know what happened after I... left."

Karen blinks. "You mean he didn't--" She sighs and hits her forehead. "Karen, you dumb idiot. Of course he didn't tell you. It took him a year and a half to tell Kirsten, and he didn't have any complicated history with her."

Foggy catches her elbow. "Karen, please," he says quietly. "I want to know."

She laughs. "I doubt that," she says. "But you definitely should know." She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Walk me home."

They walk in silence for a few minutes. Foggy wonders if Karen still lives in the same apartment she did before. Before he gets the chance to ask, Karen takes up her story.

"The first two months after you left were hell," she tells him. "Matt was miserable, kept blaming himself and I didn't understand why, because what could he have done to help you? It was--a bad time, for both of us. And then Marci came, started bossing us around, but it turned out for the best, because finally there was a reason to do anything. The added bonus was the fact that it took her a week and a half to figure out that Matt was Daredevil."

Karen chuckles, then carries on, "I didn't believe it at first. But he admitted that she was right, and she guilt-tripped him into telling us everything. Then I understood, why Matt felt guilty, why you blamed him. It was his fault, in part. It wasn't good, but it was okay, those first few weeks with Marci. She got a temporary job filling for you, and we just kept waiting for you to come back. It was tough, the fact that you didn't talk with anyone but me, but we knew that you were getting better, so there was that. We waited. Nothing was getting better for us, especially for Matt, and now I'm pretty sure that he flat out stopped eating at some point, but I didn't notice it at the time. We kept waiting. Matt kept waiting. After six months your landlord called him, told him that he got an offer on your flat and was going to rent it again. He told him that he was willing to wait one more month and then someone would have to come and pack your stuff."

"It didn't get thrown away?" Foggy asks. There were some photo albums in there that he'd like to get back and thought lost forever now.

"No." Karen shakes her head. "At the end of that extra month Matt and I went to your place and packed everything. We got all the boxes into storage, turned your keys in to the landlord, and went home. The next thing I know, Marci is calling me, telling me to go to the office and get anything that was signed by Matt, because she needs a sample of his handwriting and signature, and then to get my ass to Metro-General as quickly as I can, because it's bad--"

"Wait, hold up a second." Foggy swallows thickly. "I don't--I don't understand, Metro-General is a hospital, why a hospital, what happened?"

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you?" Karen asks, faintly disgusted. She shakes her head again. "Fine, you know what, fine. After we got all your stuff in storage, each of us went home. I went home, got a tub of ice cream from my freezer and decided to binge watch Gilmore Girls, the way I used to after Union Allied. So while I was watching Lorelei and Rory and crying into my Ben&Jerry's, Matt went back to his place and tried to kill himself."

Foggy's heart stops. He's--he's pretty sure that it stops beating. He goes as white as a sheet. His heart still stubbornly refuses to move.

"Thank God Marci is stubborn and paranoid, otherwise no one would have known for days, it was a goddamn Friday evening. Thankfully Marci is stubborn and paranoid, she found him. She saved his life." Karen looks at Foggy pointedly, and her eyes are hard and cold as ice. "She called you. She called you a hundred times. I called you a hundred times, left dozens of voice messages. 'Hi, Foggy, sorry to bother you, but Matt's dying, maybe you could give a crap?' But you never answered. You never called back."

"I--"

"Marci had to forge a power of attorney letter so that we could anything, have any say whatsoever when it came to Matt. Things like 'please don't keep him heavily sedated' or 'the smell of antiseptic makes him puke'. These are the things a next of kin usually says and handles, but you were listed as his next of kin and you weren't picking up the damn phone. So Marci risked her career and forged the letter, Claire helped us get it into the hospital files. Those two weeks Matt spent in the hospital were the worst two weeks of my life, and I think that says a lot."

"I never called you again after that," Karen admits after a short pause. "You weren't worth it."

Foggy runs a hand over his eyes. It shakes all the way. "Why--why would Matt--"

"Because he loved you." Foggy makes a small noise. "No, I mean... He was in love with you."

"No," Foggy says and it comes out like a small laugh. That's just ridiculous. "No, that's--No."

Karen shakes her head sadly. "Marci swore up and down that you didn't know, and I didn't believe her at first. How could you not have known? Matt was your best friend, there were days when you would spend eighteen hours straight together. How could you have possibly not known? I couldn't wrap my mind around it."

"I didn't," Foggy whispers. He feels as if his stomach got filled with lead and dropped to rest somewhere around his knees.

"Yeah, I know that now. I used to think that you wouldn't have pulled that shit if you knew. I understand that you were hurt and you blamed Matt, but that was--cruel. You told us that you'd be back and then you left, and you never once talked to him. Not once. Matt loved and missed you, and you didn't even have the decency to pick up a phone and call him. 'Hey, Matt, I'm not coming back, I blame you for everything and I don't want to see you again.' That would have been kinder than what you did."

Karen stops him in the middle of the sidewalk by pressing a hand to his chest. She looks straight at him and her voice is sharp. "And now you're back," she says quietly. "I don't know why or what you want, but I won't let you hurt him again. Matt's happy now, and getting to this point was not easy. I will not let you fuck this up. I'll kill you before that happens."

She pats his chest, small movement of her hand against the material of his shirt, right over the pocket where he put Jack's folded picture.

"I can walk the rest of the way alone."



46.

Alcohol becomes his best friend the moment he steps into his apartment. It even makes him call Marci.

"Why didn't you tell me?" the tequila in his blood slurs into the phone.

"Foggy, it's 2:50am on my day off," Marci hisses in reply.

"You didn't tell me," Foggy says, takes the half-empty bottle in hand and takes a swig . "Why didn't you tell me?"

She doesn't even have to ask what he's talking about. She knows. She just knows. Fucking hell, they all just know. No wonder Kirsten dreamt of kicking him in the face. He'd love to kick himself.

"I promised myself that if I'd ever see you again, the heel of my shoe up your ass would be last thing you feel in your life," Marci says sweetly. "But I grew to love my Manolos, and you weren't worth it, so by the time you reappeared, I've come to the conclusion that it was better to leave that matter where it belonged, in the past."

"You should have told me."

"Perhaps. Next time I'll remember." She sighs. "Now fuck off, Foggy-Bear."

She hangs up. He hurls the phone at the wall.



47.

He doesn't go to work. In the five years he's worked at this company, he never once took sick leave. He's plenty sick now, sick because of the alcohol, sick because of what Karen told him, sick because he's an asshole, sick because Matt still smiles at him.

No one makes a fuss. They wish him a swift recovery and Foggy laughs and hiccups and wishes the earth could swallow him whole.



48.

Matt calls him on Wednesday.

It's a new phone that buzzes on his desk, the previous one having been destroyed in mysterious circumstances that he refuses to provide the details of.

Foggy takes one look at the caller id and feels instantly sick.

He doesn't answer that call, nor any of the six that follow.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Wow is too small a word for everything you have managed to cram into this fic so far. Thank you.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: Thank you! I wasn't sure about this part, but I'm glad it works.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Matt did love him and Foggy never knew. That must be some fucked up shit what will mess with everything. Matt blaming himself for what happened to Foggy and now Foggy feeling guilty for something that is in the past.
Marci was teh oen that kept them grounded, no wonder she is mad at Foggy and Karen looks like that she doesnt want to do anything with him.
How they could ever go back being friends, there is always gonna be that cloud looming over them.
And everyone hates Wendell lol.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: Yup, Matt has been in love with Foggy for years, that's why he took Foggy leaving so hard. But he moved on and got over it. (Mostly. *evi cackle*) Marci and Karen got very protective of him and that's why they're less than thrilled about Foggy edging himself into their lives again. It was difficult enough the first time round.

I just love taking a piss out of Wendell.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh for fuck's sake Foggy, you're doing it again. >(

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

His response mechanism to emotional trauma is not the best, is it? :(

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, god... I need to hug everyone.

Fill: All Our Yesteryears [10/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: We're getting closer and closer to the end! Just one or two parts after this one and we'll be done. I hope you enjoy. :D

***

49.

The rest of the week passes in a blur; he's the first person at the office in the morning and he's the last to leave, in the dead of the night, long after even the janitor has left. Foggy tries to bury himself in work, but it doesn't work as well as it did in the past.

When the weekend rolls around, he hits the bottle. The floor of his living room is quite cozy, so he sits there, surrounded by progressively more empty bottles of gin, and stares at the wall. It's a nice wall, in a soothing shade of peach. Foggy tries very hard to numb himself into not thinking and to resist the urge to throw his buzzing phone off the balcony.

He spends a lot of time thinking about Matt anyway. The phone survives.

Somehow he manages to drag himself to work come Monday morning. His smiles are strained and he curses everyone in his mind. He hates this job.

The week goes on.

Rinse and repeat.



50.

On Friday morning an unknown number appears on the screen when his mobile starts buzzing cheerfully. Foggy eyes it suspiciously, but decides that it's rather unlikely that Matt would steep down to tactics such as using burner phones to try and reach him.

It's not like he'd be worth it, anyway.

Deciding that he's probably safe, Foggy picks up. "Yes?"

"Hi, Franklin," says the woman on the other side of the connection, "it's Kirsten."

"Kirsten," Foggy says, throat suddenly tight. God, oh God. "I'm sorry, Kirsten, but I'm busy at work--"

"This is a professional call," Kirsten says. "There's this case I'm handling, it involves questions of copyright, and I've always been crap at intellectual property law. I'm calling for help."

"Help," Foggy repeats. He takes a deep breath. "If you could send me the files, I'll--"

"It's more urgent than that," Kirsten interrupts him. "I need to know something before 3pm. Perhaps we could meet over lunch and you'd fill me in with the basics?"

Foggy glances at his watch. 12:45pm. "My lunch break starts in half an hour," he tells Kirsten. "Take your case files and meet me at the Italian place down the block from the office. You know which one?"

"The cute corner place, I know." Kirsten sighs in relief. "Thank you, Franklin, you're saving my life."

Foggy grunts his acknowledgement and hangs up. Only after he does it it occurs to him that — while he is pretty much what passes as a specialist these days — there are at least six other people Kirsten could have discussed this with, including her own husband.



51.

It's precisely 1:14pm when Foggy gets to the Italian bistro, and Kirsten is already there. She's sitting by a small table in the back of the restaurant, and she waves at him when she notices his entry. He joins her by the table and takes the menu when a waiter appears to hand them out.

"Forgive me for saying this, but you look like shit," Kirsten says.

"Then my looks have finally managed to catch up with how I feel."

Kirsten hums. "I've been reliving my urge to kick you in the face."

Foggy closes his eyes. "You should kick me in the face."

"Aaand it's gone." Kirsten closes her menu and puts it down. Foggy opens his eyes again and looks at her. "Jack misses you. He wants to know if you're angry with him."

He didn't know he could feel any worse than he already does, but yup, he can. "What? No, no, God." It physically pains him to talk. "No, it's not--Fuck."

Kirsten nods empathically. "Yeah. He's a lot like Matt. If I don't keep an eye on him, he'll end up convincing himself that just because he has no evidence of it, it doesn't mean polar bears dying is not somehow his fault."

Foggy cringes. "How--How's Matt?"

"Busy out of town, it's Steve's bi-annual 'let's try to poach Matt for the Avengers' initiative time. Also, currently not on speaking terms with Karen." Foggy's brows raise in surprise. "He wasn't happy when he found out that she told you. They argued. Loudly."

"She was right to tell me." Foggy puts his head in his hands and murmurs through his fingers, "he must hate me."

"Well, if you think that's how people who hate you act then I'm not sure what you'd expect from people who actually like you." Kirsten waves the waiter back to their table and hands him her menu. "I'll take the mushroom ravioli. Franklin?"

"Wine."

Kirsten frowns and cocks her head. "When was the last time you ate anything?"

Foggy shrugs. "I don't know. Tuesday maybe?"

She sighs. "He'll have the same," she tells the waiter, who nods and collects Foggy's menu as well. "And a bottle of sparkling water, we'll pass on the wine." The waiter leaves. Kirsten laces her fingers together and rests her chin on them. "So."

"So. The case?"

Kirsten smiles sweetly. "What case?"

"Your--" Foggy's eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. Of course. Of-fucking-course. "There is no case, is there?" Kirsten shrugs. "You lured me here under false pretenses to talk about Matt?"

"No, actually." She folds her hands on the table and leans towards him a bit. "I lured you here under false pretenses to talk about you."

"Me?" Foggy blinks. "Why would want to talk about me?"

"Because it's the second time you get hurt and run away. Your response to emotional trauma is shit, frankly, and people I love suffer as a consequence. I don't know what is it about you, but you make the Murdock boys love you so effortlessly. My dad would sure like a few tips on that."

Foggy hunches in his chair, folds in on himself in an attempt to look smaller. Damn. Damn it. "The third time," he says, because the other part of Kirsten's speech? He's not touching with a foot-long pole. Kirsten blinks, confused. Foggy takes a breath. "It's the third time. When I found out about--Matt's second job, I--I ended up walking out on him and slamming the door behind me."

"He never told me. Well. Your track record is abysmal, then." Kirsten sighs again and drums her fingers on the table's surface. It seems she's steeling herself to say something, and Foggy feels a shudder go through his frame. "You limp."

"Excuse me?"

"It's almost unnoticeable, just a barely-there slight shift of weight," Kirsten carries on. "You favour your left leg. It's much less obvious than your hand — that one is obvious, and not just because of how it looks. You flex your fingers a lot, you rub your left hand over them when you're distracted, it seems to ache a lot and I think it gets worse when you have to grip something for longer periods, like a pen or a fork. That's the part everyone sees. But you also limp, and that I can promise you is not obvious to most people. Just the ones who have intimate knowledge of such injuries."

"And you have because of Matt?"

Kirsten shakes her head. "Because of my college's athletics department," she clarifies. "I was the team captain of the cross-country relay team. We've done it all in all conditions imaginable and I've seen my fair share of broken legs and bones sticking out of places that they shouldn't stick out of. I know what a clean break looks like and this wasn't one." It's not a question, but Foggy shakes his head 'no' nevertheless. "Then kudos to the surgeon, because he did a damn good job. It's easy to fuck up."

"The surgeon and more than half a year of physical therapy. My aunt's sister in Kansas is a therapist. Not having to pay was very nice on my wallet." Foggy clears his throat. "No one noticed before, you know? Not even my wife."

"Matt noticed," Kirsten says. "Your steps sound uneven to him." She bites on her lower lip. "This doesn't make your wife sound--good."

Foggy smiles. "Ella was--She didn't care. She didn't care about any of that shit. She was new and exciting and safe, she was wild and loud and larger than life, and I got swept up in her. I think...I think I even loved her, at some point."

"How long were you two married?"

"Close to three years."

"That's a long time to be married to someone you think you loved at some point."

Foggy grimaces. "I was thinking about going back to New York when I met her," he tells Kirsten. He's never told this to anyone before. "And I didn't. I went to San Francisco with her, after her, because it was safe, she was safe. I suppose I held onto that marriage as long as I did, because I didn't want to think that the thing that I've abandoned my whole life for was not even working."

"Fair enough," Kirsten nods. She plays with her cutlery.

"How do you do it?" Foggy asks quietly. "How can you not be afraid?"

He doesn't have to clarify. Kirsten knows what he means.

"I am afraid," she admits, equally quiet. "I'm scared all the damn time. I wake up in the morning and I wonder if I get back home that evening, if Matt gets back home or if this is the last time I see him, if Jack ends up growing up with only one parent."

"Then why--"

"My mother died when I was six," Kirsten tells him. "Just a year older than Jack is now. She was shot. It was a Saturday morning and we've run out of milk. Mum went out to buy some in the corner shop, just four minutes away from our house. She never came back. She went out to buy milk and she never came back."

"I suppose it comes down to the fact that we can be certain of nothing," Kirsten continues after a pause. The waiter brought their ravioli and a bottle of water, and Kirsten thanked him with a smile. "One of us could be killed because of Daredevil. I could just as easily be taken and tortured because of a case we're handling and because we make life miserable for mobsters. But I could also be run over by a car outside our office. I might die in a traffic accident. I might get shot while getting milk for my kid."

"Association with Daredevil definitely makes one's life more dangerous," Foggy points out.

"True," Kirsten admits. "But it's the question of worth. Is that extra danger worth it? Back when we first met, Matt tried very hard to push ma away. He said he didn't want to be responsible for another of his loved ones getting hurt. It was sweet, in a way, but also condescending as hell. Because it was my decision. I chose to be with him. I knew the risks and I chose to be with him."

Kirsten pours water into their glasses while Foggy stabs his ravioli with a fork. He is hungry, he knows he is, but the sole thought of actually eating, of chewing and swallowing anything, makes his stomach turn.

"So we're back to the question of worth. The extra danger, the risks. We could die any day, but there's the possibility of dying horribly. Is being with Matt, being a part of his life, worth taking that risk?" Kirsten takes a sip of her water. "Contrary to what Matt thinks, I've thought long and hard about this. And I've decided that yes, of course it is worth it. He is worth it. I'd rather take the possibility of a horrible death, the fear and the pain and the grief that will no doubt come one day over not being with him. Over opening a newspaper one morning, or getting a Google alert, and finding out that he's dead, and regretting the time we didn't have. I know regret. I know what regret looks like, I've seen it go downhill right into a crippling depression. I don't want it. I'll take Luke Cage pounding on my door in the middle of the night to tell me that something bad has happened over regret any day. I'll take all the time we can have over having no time at all."

Foggy puts his fork down and away. He won't be eating anyway. "I--never thought about it that way."

"And that means you're less of an optimist than Matt likes to paint you as."

They sit in silence for a moment. Kirsten eats her lunch while Foggy drains one then two then three glasses of water. He never thought about that, about the choices he made. After he found out about Daredevil, he came back. He came to Matt's gym and he offered him their friendship back. He offered to come back, and he did. He knew it was going to be dangerous — and perhaps he couldn't imagine just what exactly those dangers entailed, but he knew. And it was his choice to stay. What happened, it might have been Matt's fault, but it also was his choice that led to that, and he didn't see it.

"He misses you," Kirsten says. "He blames himself and thinks that every bad thing that ever happened to you is his fault, but he misses you. And then he considers that to be selfish, because you'd be safer and happier without him around and yet he can't stop."

"Karen said he loved and missed me," Foggy whispers, so quiet that Kirsten has to strain and lean forward over the table to hear him. "After I left."

"He did. Even at his lowest and angriest, even long after he met me, he still loved and missed you." Kirsten moves her hand and covers Foggy's with it, entangles their fingers together. "He never stopped. It's not something we talk about a lot, because discussions about your first big love can turn awkward quickly, trust me on that, but I know he didn't. He still loves and misses you."

She lets go of his hand. "For a long time I only knew of you from Matt and from what Karen and Marci were willing to seethe out to me. Matt doesn't have any photos from law school, no videos, nothing, so I kept imagining you as that smug asshole that you just want to punch at first sight. I liked that mental image that I had, and I couldn't understand why would Matt be sad that you weren't at our wedding or why would he want to name his son after you. You were that asshole who abandoned him." She starts playing with the rim of her glass. "And then I met you. You're a kind and big-hearted damaged person who I know for a fact cares a great deal about both of my boys. Hating you quickly became impossible, and I realised why Matt could have missed you all those years. You're an easy person to love and an easy person to miss."

"I shouldn't be." Matt shouldn't miss him, for fuck's sake, Jack shouldn't miss him, he's only known him for a few months.

"Perhaps." Kirsten drains the contents of her glass. "But you are, and I'd be grateful if you stopped being an asshole. Go be a friend, I was told you're good at that."

"We're not friends, Kirsten," Foggy laughs bitterly. They aren't, he and Matt. There is too much history between them now, too much hurt and betrayal hanging over their heads like a storm cloud. All the hurt feelings and despair and sadness that threatened to fall on their heads at any moment leaving them anxious and unsure; they knew it would rain eventually, but it wasn't possible to have an umbrella with them at all times. "We're not even the same people we were back then."

"Maybe you're right," Kirsten says. She waves at the waiter and requests the bill. "But I didn't know you back then. I only know you as you are now, and Matt was already broken when I met him."

They split the bill and Foggy declines Kirsten's offer to walk him back to his office.



52.

That night Foggy leans over the railings on his balcony and looks at New York.

When he came back to the city close to seven months ago, he didn't expect to find it so changed. To find the people in it so changed. Sure, he didn't think everything stayed exactly the same — he's not an idiot, and six years is a long time — but he didn't think he wouldn't be able to recognise anything. He never thought that his leaving would have had any impact on anyone, let alone one this big. He was just Foggy Nelson, the side addition to Matt Murdock's awesome and handsome and lawyer, the inevitable plus one that was difficult to get rid of.

Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

They aren't those people anymore. Foggy ponders what he told Kirsten at lunch and realises that it holds more truth than he thought. They really aren't those people, and they most certainly aren't friends. Men who tried to play-pretend a friendship for a few weeks at best. Lousy losers trying to cling to an idealised and untrue image of something long-gone at worst.

Matt has his own world now. A wife and a son — a sweet, amazing son and Foggy feels a pang of guilt at the thought that, if things went differently once, he could have been Jack's godfather and Uncle Foggy — a prospering practice that he runs with someone he trusts, a circle of friends who go to the zoo and play softball in Central Park and celebrate Halloween together. Foggy doesn't fit into all that. He's the spare part that will ruin everything if you try to squeeze it in. Just look. He already caused a falling out between Matt and Karen.

They aren't friends. They're just two strangers who were friends once, who once knew each other and knew how to care about each other.

It'll be better if he leaves, it occurs to him suddenly.

Yes, yes it would be. It will be. He could go back to San Francisco, far enough not to cause any more trouble in his world that's not his anymore, far enough that all the miles between would ensure that they stay apart. He still has some people in San Fran, he could get a job. He even misses the beaches a little bit.

He'll call Matt. He'll call Matt and he'll explain everything — he'll not be an asshole this time, no disappearing act, you leave properly this time, Nelson, finish a job, finish a relationship, finish a life. Matt'll agree with his reasoning, because Matt is a smart and reasonable man. He'll see that Foggy is right, he'll see that it'll be better that way, he'll see that it's the only way to get his nice and put-together life back.

The seven months Foggy Nelson spent in New York will be filed away as an anomaly, perhaps will become an anecdote that will be told years in the future, and Jack Murdock will blink and say that he doesn't remember the man for whom he drew a picture in arts class when he was five.

It'll be better if he leaves. It'll be better, because Matt and his family deserve the best.



53.

On Monday morning, Foggy turns in his resignation. In the evening, he starts packing.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

FOGGY YOU IDIOT DID YOU LISTEN TO ANYTHING SHE SAID AT ALL XD

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

He did. And he concluded that a) he made Matt miserable once, b) Matt was better now and was happy and had a family, c) he was making Matt miserable AGAIN. So obviously the thing to do is to remove himself from the equation. I'm not saying that it's the best line of reasoning ever. ;)

Foggy's meeting with someone next time, and that someone will make him see reason a little bit.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

I get why he wants to elave, he feels that Matt is betetr of without him, after all Matt has made a life without him, he wasnt there for Matt and Foggy thinks is better to o away than try to start things from scratch cause like he said there is always gonna be that cloud over them.
It's interesting what Kirstn said, the part where Matt still has feelings for Foggy-. They need to talk, Matt and Foggy and then the three of them (Matt, Foggy and Karen) maybe slap Foggy a little bit to put some sence into him.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Objectively, Foggy removing himself would be the best and the healthiest emotionally thing for Matt. There existed a certain balance in Matt's life before Foggy reappeared in it, and Foggy knows that.

Of course Matt still has feelings for Foggy. He still loves him; it may not be a romantic love anymore (though that will forever stay with Matt, you never forget your first true love), but Matt does love Foggy as a best friend and brother.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

ASKFHIOSGOIHSDFOIHSDLfk.

That's a clear representation of incoherent babbling, right?

Foggy, NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

You're breaking my heart with this fic in a wonderful wonderful way.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: I'm sorryyyy! Foggy is going through a crisis of faith now. Thankfully, there IS one person that can help him with that, and Foggy is definitely meeting up with them in the next part.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

FOGGY NO YOU FOOLISH AVOCADO

IF YOU LEAVE I AM PRETTY SURE MATT WILL ACTUALLY CRY AND THEN CHASE YOU ALL THE WAY TO SAN FRANCISCO

MATT YOU BETTER CHASE HIM TO SAN FRANCISCO

Uuuuuuugh I just want these two idiots to be HAPPY GOSH DARNIT.

...Seriously though, Matt, catch a plane to San Fran. Catch Foggy dramatically at the airport. DO SOMETHING. MY HEART CANNOT TAKE THIS.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: *cackles* Oh boy. Matt could do some chasing, and Kirsten would be all for it (shh she knows how important Foggy is to Matt, and she's confident enough in her marriage that she can come to Matt and tell him "go get him"). However, that wouldn't be the best for them. Foggy needs to decide to stay HIMSELF. He needs to accept that Matt wants him in his life, that Foggy himself wants to be a part of that, and then he needs to decide to stay.

The question is, will he do that?

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Hello, lurker here. *waves shyly*

This story breaks my heart. I try to turn away (because hello broken heart, shattered really) and yet I just can't because it's amazing. Foggy is so human and destroyed. I just want to hug him so hard and give him a heart shaped lollipop and let him know he is loved.

I don't know how you did it, but in this story I don't dislike Kristen as much as I normally do. (I'm such a Matt/Foggy freak, that I kinda grr a little when I know that she's Matt's wife, but only a little. LOL) Her voice of reason is needed since everyone else is so emotionally scarred.

I kinda agree with the commenter above me, I want a big dramatic bromantic airport scene, with slow motion running. LOL But I know whatever you have planned will be fantastic. Can't wait for the next part.

*will stop bothering you and go back to lurking creepily*

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [11/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: Hello! *waves back* I'm glad that you're enjoying this despite the pain and Kirsten (I personally am a big fan of her, so it's a double compliment when you say she works for you).

Kirsten is the one person who came aboard the Crazy Train pretty much after the dust had settled, after The Thing (Matt never calls what happened to Foggy as anything but 'The Thing'), after the suicide attempt, after Karen and Marci managed to drag Matt out of his depressed black hole. Kirsten is the most objective of them all - Matt sugar-coats everything because it's FOGGY we're talking about and he loves the man, while Karen and Marci are on the opposite side of the spectrum in their anger.

I can't promise a dramatic bromantic airport scene, but there will be something like that. That one scene is actually the very first thing I wrote for this fic; everything so far has been leading up to THAT ONE MOMENT.

There's actually a scene that never made this fic (maybe I'll do a BTS? or a deleted scenes fic, or a companion piece from Matt's POV, because DAMN I have the material for that) in which Matt freaks out a bit, because ~feelings~ and he and Kirsten have a nice conversation about first loves and the difference between a true love and a soulmate. There's also that OT3 thing that sort of wrote itself, but we're not going there.

Fill: All Our Yesteryears [12/?]

[(Anonymous)]

A!A: I'm moving in the next three days, so I cannot promise an update before that. I'll try, but I honestly cannot.

***

54.

Wendell is less than happy with this development. He flies in from San Francisco unannounced, scaring the crap out of the East Coast director in the process. It's kind of nice, Foggy thinks, to know that you're such a valuable employee that your boss is willing to travel across the country to sit you down and try to talk you into not resigning.

Wendell's perplexed and surprised that his pep talk doesn't work. Nor does the promise of a substantial raise.

"It's not about the money," Foggy tells him. It really isn't, though the raise would be--that would be something. "I simply need to find something new. Move on with my life."

"Have you thought this through, Franklin, really thought this through?"

Foggy nods. "I have, sir."

Wendell sighs and tells him that his resignation has been accepted and the standard period of notice of two weeks applies, unless Foggy is in a hurry. Foggy is not in a hurry, and those fourteen days will be perfect to put all his affairs in order.

It's Tuesday afternoon. By that time in two weeks, everything will be over.



55.

Early Friday afternoon Foggy heads to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee — he could tell his assistant to make it and bring it, or even tell him to run to the closest Starbucks and bring something fancy — but there was something soothing in walking through the quiet corridors of his floor to make his own; he wonders briefly if Karen ever learnt how to make coffee that didn't make you want to pour it all down the drain.

On his way back to his office — a cup of steaming cappuccino in hand — he passes a group of interns, who huddle together when they notice him. Most of them throw fearful glances at him, as if they were afraid that he's lost his mind and would do something unwise any second now. But there are a few — one or two, to be honest — who smile when he passes and give him small thumbs up. Foggy assumes that by now all of them have heard that he's leaving in just over a week.

Foggy passes them without a word, but does wave at the kid sitting on a couch outside the conference room. Back in his office, Foggy puts down his cup and seats himself behind his desk. For the next week he's still the head of this department, and that means he has a lot of work to do. He won't leave his successor with piles of letter and documents and contracts to sift through, everything will be in order, nothing will be misfiled or missing or ignored, and--

Foggy frowns. Wait a moment.

He gets up and peeks out of his office. On the opposite side of the corridor from him, on the couch outside the conference room, there indeed is a kid. A very familiar one at that.

"Jackie?"

Jack raises his head and beams when he notices Foggy in the doorway. "Hi, Mr. Franklin!"

Confused, Foggy lets go of his doorframe and steps closer to the boy. He has a big and heavy-looking book opened on his lap, and he's swinging his legs lazily. His Iron Man backpack is sitting next to the couch.

"What are you doing here?" Foggy asks.

Jack sighs. "I'm waiting for Grandpa," he explains. "We were going to the park, but then he had to come to the office so he told me to wait, but it was a while ago so I think he forgot."

"He forgot?" Foggy blinks. "How long have you been sitting here?"

Jack shrugs. "An hour? I don't know. Miss Jan told me to sit here."

Miss Jan, Miss Jan... Foggy struggles to place the name, but finally comes up with a face to go with it. Janice Portland, the assistant director here.

"This couch isn't very comfortable," he tells Jack, who nods his confirmation. "Maybe you should go to my office. I have, uh, paper and some pencils, you could draw something?"

"I have my crayons!" Jack says, excited. He closes his book and shoves it into the backpack, which he grabs and drags after him. He takes Foggy's hand as they go. "Won't Miss Jan be angry?"

"I don't care," Foggy mutters under his breath. Out loud, he says, "absolutely not. Plus my office is much nicer, and has a great view of the city."

Back in the office, Foggy drags a second chair to his desk and clears out some space for Jack. The kid does indeed take out crayons from his backpack, takes a blank sheet of paper from the stack Foggy pushed towards him, and starts drawing. Foggy observes him when he settles back behind his desk. There's a line between Jack's brows and he frowns the same way Matt does when he concentrates; unlike his father, though, Jack sticks out his tongue and catches it between his teeth. It's a very childlike thing to do, so who knows, maybe Matt used to do the same when he was Jack's age — it's not like there's anyone to ask. Or perhaps this Jack takes after Kirsten. Or maybe it's simply a Jack thing.

"What were you going to do in the park?" Foggy asks. Shit. He can't concentrate on the documents now.

The focused line between Jack's brows disappears as he tears his eyes away from his picture and looks up at Foggy. "Grandpa told Mummy he'd take care of me today," Jack says. "Mummy and Daddy are busy, and Grandpa promised to take me to the swings. Daddy doesn't like swings, they make him dizzy."

"That they do," Foggy murmurs, remembering a certain end-of-first-year party. Disaster, that. "When are your mum and dad coming to pick you up?"

"They're at work until the evening." Jack looks back to his picture and picks up a brown crayon. He sticks out his tongue again.

Foggy glances at his watch. "That's still at least five hours from now. What did Miss Jan tell you?"

"To wait at the couch."

"Unbelievable." Foggy stands up. "I'm going to go and see your Grandpa, okay? Wait here, Jack, I'll be back in a moment."

Foggy marches out of his office, startling an inter hovering just outside. Unbelievable. He catches an elevator and goes up four floors to Wendell's office. He sees Janice Portland when he steps out.

"Really?" he asks, voice full of sarcasm, as he passes her by. Janice frowns, not understanding, but Foggy doesn't stop to explain. He goes straight for Wendell's office, ignoring the secretary who tells him that Wendell is busy, and walks inside without knocking. What's the worst Wendell could do if he gets angry, after all. Fire him?

Wendell is on the phone when Foggy comes in. "Excuse me for a minute, Derek," he says and puts the phone down. "Franklin! I didn't expect to see you today. Did you perhaps reconsider my offer...?"

"Your grandson has been sitting on the couch outside my conference room for the past hour."

Wendell frowns. "Really? I told Janice to take care of him."

"She gave him an architecture of New Orleans album to read and left him there," Foggy says and doesn't bother to hide his displeasure. Un-fucking-believable. She couldn't even be bothered to find a book that would be appropriate for a five-year-old, let alone one that would be of interest to Jack in particular. "He said you were going to go to the park."

"Something popped up." Wendell grimaces and Foggy actually believes that he's feeling sorry for this disaster of a grandfather-grandson bonding day. "You know how it is."

Foggy does know how it is. Conferences at ungodly hours and author meetings on Sunday mornings. Yeah, he knows. He's been working here for more than five years now, he knows. So he nods and leaves the office.

"What is your problem?" Janice asks when he gets back to the elevator. She doesn't get in with him; Foggy doesn't ask what is she even doing at this floor.

"Next time someone asks you to look after a kid and can't be bothered to, at least ask what the kid would like to read."

The door closes before Janice finds a satisfying reply. Foggy gets back to his floor and stops by the office of Alana, his senior subordinate that he's hoping — and lobbying for, if he's being honest — will take his place once he leaves next week. Alana is--she's nice. Handles the interns when he just cannot stand them anymore and that alone is a reason why she should take his place.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off," he tells Alana. "Keep an eye on everything."

He doesn't tell her why. He doesn't tell her anything. Again — worst case scenario, they can fire him for skipping work (unlikely, he's never done that before), but it would hardly matter, considering the fact that he's already on the out. So he just drums his fingers on Alana's doorframe and leaves, goes back to his own office.

"Pack your things, kiddo," he tells Jack as he enters. Jack jumps in his chair and quickly shoves something under his papers, with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face and bright red colour rising in his cheeks. Oh, bless. He even blushes like Matt. "We're going swinging."

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [12/?]

[(Anonymous)]

Yay yay yay! Jack saves the day! (or it turns into a horrible mess where someone thinks Jackie has been kidnapped. Excuse me while I just sit here and gnaw on my knuckles for a bit.)

I have so much awesome I want to say about your fic.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [12/?]

[(Anonymous)]

<3

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [12/?]

[(Anonymous)]

I can survive three days without this fic or more than that i have faith i can do it (not like im checking on my phone for an update every two hors or anythign like that , right).
Onto teh chpater now. Jackie, you are so freaking sweet, i guess he is used to be left behind his dad and her mom have that kind of work and he is just used to it, kinda sad.

Re: Fill: All Our Yesteryears [9/?]

[(Anonymous)]

I love the story that you've managed to write, truly. Concisely, it's about two friends having drifted apart, lived their own lives separately and have come back into each other's lives and having to learn to adjust to being strangers that are getting to know each other again. It's beautiful.

But I may be overly sensitive, and that's on me, but Matt's choice to be a vigilante had the repercussion of making Foggy a victim of violence. And i get that you're illustrating that Matt hadn't taken it very well, and out of sight is out of mind. The people that have stayed, all they can see is Matt's spiral and the fallout of Foggy having left--not what prompted him to leave.

But I am mad at Kirsten's initial conversation with Foggy after realizing who he is (wanting to kick him in the face, but begrudgingly coming to conclusion that maybe he didn't deserve it), Marci's and Karen's conversations with him--that they are mad at him for leaving. That after physically healing from his injuries, Foggy should have stayed to tend to Matt--to reassure him that the act of torture was okay and completely not Matt's fault (exaggeration on my part-I know that's not your point).

That to be broken and allowing one to make decisions that are easy and are actually in one's own self-interest is unforgivable? That Foggy's torture was terrible, but not nearly as much as the effect it had on Matt?

I just get the vibe of victim-shaming and I hate it. And like I said, I'm probably being overly sensitive, but that just has been my take away from their conversations--and that interpretation is entirely on me and my own issues and probably not at all what you intended. I could have and probably should have steered away from leaving a comment at all, but I just needed to put my thoughts to words.

This really is beautifully written. But not my cuppa. Thank you for sharing, nonetheless.