Part of him knew he had been unfair. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.
He clutched the phone in his hand, but he didn’t call Karen, nor Foggy’s parents.
Day 81
Matt belatedly realized he hadn’t shed a single tear every since Foggy has disappeared, as he heard the man whose leg he had just broke sobbing into the concrete.
Day 102
“Already going away? You hadn’t even got inside.”
Matt turned toward Father Lathom. He hissed.
“Jesus, look at you.” He murmured, and in another time, maybe Matt would’ve playfully pointed out the profanity.
“I was just walking by.” He replied, voice flat, resuming his walk. The priest followed him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to have a chat? I haven’t seen you in forever.” Father Lathom said, forcing a peaceful tone out. “What happened, son?”
Matt found himself letting out a cold chuckle. “My human half went missing.”
Day 172
Stick didn’t even try to conceal his traces.
“What do you want?” Matt asked, tiredly, the instant he stepped in his apartment. It had been a long day at court and a long case. He had a ton of paperwork to take care of alone at the office and Jennifer Walters had asked him out for drinks again. He had no patience to spare, today.
“Just checking on you.” Stick replied from his couch, sipping at one of his beers. “Glad to see you’ve upgraded from that piss you called beer.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you, get out.” Matt replied flatly, launching his suitcase on one of the armchair and stripping from the suit and shirt. Stick chuckled.
“What an attitude, finally learning something?” He put the bottle down the coffee table with a clink, standing. “I’ve heard what happened to your little pal. People always talk about the five stages of grief, or shit like that. By the look of it, you are going through all of them at the same time.”
Matt froze. He had done the impossible to find a lead on Foggy’s disappearance, and failed. But, incredibly and dumbly, he hadn’t took into consideration Stick and his war.
“Do you have anything to do with it?” He murmured, dangerous. Stick sighed.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, boy. If it was me, you’d know. I’d make a point of it, trust me.” He replied. “No, I’m not dumb enough to touch your things, learned my lesson, long given up on getting your head out of your ass. Whoever it was, it had nothing to do with us.”
He sounded sincere, but then again, it was not like Stick hadn’t lied plenty to him in the past and sounded honest. Matt slowly walked to him untile they were standing barely inches apart.
“If I discover you and your war have anything to do with this.” He said, slowly. “I will find you, and I will kill you.”
Stick full-on laughed in his face. “You won’t have the balls, boy. You never did.”
“Don’t test me.” Matt growled, voice low, gaining another laugh.
“You are adorable.” Stick replied, ironic. “But again, boy, I know you don’t have it in you. I can test you right now.”
“Stick—“
“This stuff.” Stick continued, ignoring him, walking toward the boxes still sitting under the fire hose. “It’s your friend’s, right?”
“Stick, I don’t have any patience for this bullshit today—“
“What’s this, a photo album?” Stick said, picking it up and browsing it, running his fingers all over the pictures. “What is even the point of keeping this, boy? Matt studying for Tort.. Really? You are that much of a sap?”
“Put that thing down, I’m warning you—“
“Selfie with Matt. Passed the tort exam!” Stick read out, in a sing song voice. Then took the picture, and crumpled it in his fist.
Matt snapped.
Day 186
“I…” The man sniffed, voice trembling. “I thought you didn’t kill—“
“I’m done playing nice.” Daredevil replied through his teeth.
Day 432
People had been screaming, loudly. They had been screaming, and running, and everything reminded him of years back, of portals opening in the sky and aliens pouring out of them. So he put on the suit, and went out, because that’s what he did when he wasn’t being judge and jury for criminals. He helped. He tried to make out what was happening for people’s frantic speaking, and all he could understand was that there had been portals, again, but not in the sky, this time. Portals at sidewalk level, sucking people in and spitting other things out, portals—
Suddenly, he felt pure darkness and the sensation of being on a roller coaster, then he was back again on solid ground, inside a building. A office, going by the sounds, in New York—
This New York was not his New York.
The city was the same, but he still could feel something different. It was on his skin, on his tongue, in the way the city reverberated to his senses.
And this office was not his office. Mainly because he had stopped having a office a month prior.
“You are one of those, aren’t you.” A feminine voice he could not recognize sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll send you back in the blink of an eye, so don’t freak out, ok?”
Matt wanted to ask what the hell she was talking about, but was cut off by two men opening the door and stepping inside, clearly engaging in some kind of playful banter that was interrupted when they -presumably- laid eyes on him.
“What—“ One of them, the taller one, said, and his voice sounded strangely familiar.
“He popped out of nowhere in the middle of the office.” The woman explained curtly, and the man sighed.
“I’ll go call Stephen.” He said, sounding tired as he walked into another room.
“I’ll go cancel today’s appointment, it’s not like we can send him somewhere else.” The woman said, walking out as well.
The last man looked around, before sighing. “Honestly, those two.” He muttered. “C’mon, Matty, don’t stay there on the floor, we have perfectly fine couches. Are you hurt? Hungry? Do you need anything?” The man said, taking his hand gently to help Matt on his feet. He added, as is it was an afterthought “You have a me in your universe, right?”
Matt managed to stop gaping for a second. He knew that voice, even if te timbre was slightly different. He knew that smell, even if it was nearly covered by the stench of some kind of chemicals. He knew that hand, even if the fingers felt too thin under his. He knew the smell of that shampoo, even if his hair was shorter.
“Foggy?” He managed to breath out.
—
“Something gone wrong with some kind of magic. Or maybe it’s the Avengers’s fault, wouldn’t have been the first time.” Foggy sighed, pushing a cup of tea in Matt’s now gloveless hands. “Anyway, there’s been a lot of universe rifting lately, and we have got a lot of visitors from other universes similar to ours. You are just one of many, but don’t worry, we know how to send you back home, so just relax until Strange gets here, ok?”
For all he was understanding, Foggy could’ve been speaking actual punjabi. But this Foggy (not his Foggy, apparently.) Had help him out the suit, tutted when he seen how thin and unkempt he was. Gently cleaned the blood off his face and gave him tea and cookies.
Now he was sitting at his side on the couch, watching him with mild interest.
“You look really young, and also like shit.” He said, raw honest. “Not that I’m surprised, mind you. Things rough on your side of the multiverse? Do you want to talk about it?”
Matt gulped around a knot in his throat. “Foggy?”
“Yeah, that’s my name.” He replied, gently, with a smile in his voice.
Matt let the cup of tea drop on the floor with a loud crush, closing his fists on Foggy’s shirts and pressing his forehead against Foggy’s chest with a single, dry sob. —
“Ehy, ehy, it’s ok… It’s ok…”
It wasn’t ok, Matt wanted to wail as this Foggy petted his hair and hugged him like he had knew him for a lifetime. It wasn’t ok, it was never gonna be, because you aren’t home with me.
All he could do was sobbing harder, instead.
—
“The woman you met was Kirsten. Do you have a Kirsten? No? You two are constantly dancing around each other, is in equal parts funny and irritating. But you’d make a cute couple.”
This Foggy was talking nonsense at him, letting Matt cling to him. He had stopped sobbing, finally -still dry, still no tears-. But he wasn’t gonna let Foggy go, ever.
“You look really different than my Matt. I thought the gingerness was a constant of the multiverse, but I had been proven wrong, don’t I? Dark hair suits you, even if it’s strange. And you are a bit shorter too, it’s kinda cute.”
"You never went universe hopping, did you? You looked very confused, earlier. It wouldn't be surprising, you are really young. Well, get used to weird stuff if you keep wearing your superhero garbs—“
"I'm not a superhero." Matt managed to choke out.
"Oh, so you do know how to talk." Foggy teased him playfully. He patted Matt's hair gently. "I don't like how sad you look, Matty. Want to tell me what's wrong?"
What's not wrong?. "You..." Matt licked his lips nervously. "You are gone." He finally forced out, voice low and choked. Foggy tensed.
"Oh." He said, in a whisper. "I'm sorry. What...?"
"It's been more than a year." Matt continued, hands tight on this Foggy's shirt. "You were there and then the next day you were gone. Disappeared without leaving a single trace. I searched for you everywhere, in every way I could possibly think of. But you were gone."
"Oh, Matt, I'm sorry—“
It was as if Matt couldn't stop. He kept talking. "I turned away every person that ever cared about me. I... I did the unthinkable. I killed a man." A cold, hysterical chuckle escaped his lips. "Willingly. I killed many more after him. I closed the firm not much time ago, I was alone and I wasn't working anymore anyway."
Foggy had tensed significantly, and Matt let his shirt go as if he'd got burned.
"You did what?" Foggy asked, breathless, and choked. "Oh, I— Why did you— All that, because of me?"
"Not because of you. Because I'm me>/i>." Matt replied in a defeated whisper. “You’ve always been my moral compass. Without you, I’ve got lost.”
"Matt..." Foggy started, his voice tense, as he shifted slightly away from him unconsciously. The door opened. The other Matt entered, followed by another man.
"... Am I interrupting something?" The other Matt asked, half jokingly half serious. Foggy immediately stood, walking toward his friend.
Putting a safe distance between himself and Matt. It was understandable, really, but Matt was sure he could convince him to forgive what he had done—
"Yes, of course." The man called Stephen replied in a calm, collected tone. "Ready to go back, Matthew?"
What? "I don't want to go back." Matt replied, breathless.
The declaration was followed by long seconds of silence.
"But you have to." Stephen reasoned calmly. "This was an unnatural occurrence, you have to get back to your own universe. Your presence would create even a bigger rift-"
"I'm not going back." Matt replied, stubborn, voice trembling.
He could hear Foggy and the other Matt exchange a look, and he distantly wondered if this Matt could see.
"Look, it's not a available choice, your presence here could become dangerous for the entire planet, and the entire universe after.” Stephen said, sounding slightly impatient. “It’s not something up to debate.”
Matt took a step back, and the other Matt instantly surged forward and grabbed his arm, growling “Don’t even think about it.”
“You can’t—“ Matt choked, trying to fight against the other him’s surprisingly strong hold. “I don’t want to go back!”
“Stephen—!” The other Matt half-yelled, dodging Matt’s punch. He turned Matt’s arm on his back, painfully, closing the other arm around Matt’s neck.
“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK!” Matt screamed, trashing against his counterpart to no avail. The other Matt was obviously more experienced, because he didn’t give even an inch. “DON’T SEND ME BACK, < i>PLEASE!”
The last thing he heard before the sensation of being on a roller coaster was this universe Foggy’s choked sob.
Day 432, reprise
Matt fell badly on his knees and his hands hit concrete as he tried to find his balance back, barely gulping down the bile that was rising in his throat. Loud noises surrounded him, people screaming, was he back? HIs sense were on the fritz, nothing made sense—
“He came out of there— shoot!“ Someone booming voice said above the deafening noise.
“But he looks human—“
“Shoot!”
Matt had tried to stand, confused, wobbly on his legs. He was pretty sure he tried to stand, but he heard a loud noise that made his ears ring now he was back down, concrete pressing on his face, pain radiating from his abdomen—
Sounds came muffled, indistinct, under the ringing still in his ears, but he could feel the blood seeping over the shirt that Foggy -The other Foggy, the one that petted his hair and called him “Matty”, the Foggy that shuffled away from him when he discovered just how really fucked up Matt was- had gave him, spilling on the concrete.
The other Foggy had let him go without a protest, the other Foggy that heard him scream and did nothing—
He felt something on his cheeks. Blood—? Oh. No.
Hi tears were back.
The other Foggy had done nothing.
Not his Foggy, not the one that had disappeared a lifetime ago, leaving him alone without a guidance in a world that did its best and succeeded in chewing Matt up and spitting him out as broken as it gets—
Not his Foggy that— Smelled— In that way that Matt was smelling right now.
An hand on his head, an hand on his shoulder, firm and familiar.
The light shuffle of long hair brushing shoulders.
Re: Fill: These days we've lost. (Last part)
Part of him knew he had been unfair. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.
He clutched the phone in his hand, but he didn’t call Karen, nor Foggy’s parents.
Day 81
Matt belatedly realized he hadn’t shed a single tear every since Foggy has disappeared, as he heard the man whose leg he had just broke sobbing into the concrete.
Day 102
“Already going away? You hadn’t even got inside.”
Matt turned toward Father Lathom. He hissed.
“Jesus, look at you.” He murmured, and in another time, maybe Matt would’ve playfully pointed out the profanity.
“I was just walking by.” He replied, voice flat, resuming his walk. The priest followed him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to have a chat? I haven’t seen you in forever.” Father Lathom said, forcing a peaceful tone out. “What happened, son?”
Matt found himself letting out a cold chuckle. “My human half went missing.”
Day 172
Stick didn’t even try to conceal his traces.
“What do you want?” Matt asked, tiredly, the instant he stepped in his apartment. It had been a long day at court and a long case. He had a ton of paperwork to take care of alone at the office and Jennifer Walters had asked him out for drinks again. He had no patience to spare, today.
“Just checking on you.” Stick replied from his couch, sipping at one of his beers. “Glad to see you’ve upgraded from that piss you called beer.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you, get out.” Matt replied flatly, launching his suitcase on one of the armchair and stripping from the suit and shirt. Stick chuckled.
“What an attitude, finally learning something?” He put the bottle down the coffee table with a clink, standing. “I’ve heard what happened to your little pal. People always talk about the five stages of grief, or shit like that. By the look of it, you are going through all of them at the same time.”
Matt froze. He had done the impossible to find a lead on Foggy’s disappearance, and failed. But, incredibly and dumbly, he hadn’t took into consideration Stick and his war.
“Do you have anything to do with it?” He murmured, dangerous. Stick sighed.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, boy. If it was me, you’d know. I’d make a point of it, trust me.” He replied. “No, I’m not dumb enough to touch your things, learned my lesson, long given up on getting your head out of your ass. Whoever it was, it had nothing to do with us.”
He sounded sincere, but then again, it was not like Stick hadn’t lied plenty to him in the past and sounded honest. Matt slowly walked to him untile they were standing barely inches apart.
“If I discover you and your war have anything to do with this.” He said, slowly. “I will find you, and I will kill you.”
Stick full-on laughed in his face. “You won’t have the balls, boy. You never did.”
“Don’t test me.” Matt growled, voice low, gaining another laugh.
“You are adorable.” Stick replied, ironic. “But again, boy, I know you don’t have it in you. I can test you right now.”
“Stick—“
“This stuff.” Stick continued, ignoring him, walking toward the boxes still sitting under the fire hose. “It’s your friend’s, right?”
“Stick, I don’t have any patience for this bullshit today—“
“What’s this, a photo album?” Stick said, picking it up and browsing it, running his fingers all over the pictures. “What is even the point of keeping this, boy? Matt studying for Tort.. Really? You are that much of a sap?”
“Put that thing down, I’m warning you—“
“Selfie with Matt. Passed the tort exam!” Stick read out, in a sing song voice. Then took the picture, and crumpled it in his fist.
Matt snapped.
Day 186
“I…” The man sniffed, voice trembling. “I thought you didn’t kill—“
“I’m done playing nice.” Daredevil replied through his teeth.
Day 432
People had been screaming, loudly. They had been screaming, and running, and everything reminded him of years back, of portals opening in the sky and aliens pouring out of them.
So he put on the suit, and went out, because that’s what he did when he wasn’t being judge and jury for criminals. He helped.
He tried to make out what was happening for people’s frantic speaking, and all he could understand was that there had been portals, again, but not in the sky, this time. Portals at sidewalk level, sucking people in and spitting other things out, portals—
Suddenly, he felt pure darkness and the sensation of being on a roller coaster, then he was back again on solid ground, inside a building. A office, going by the sounds, in New York—
This New York was not his New York.
The city was the same, but he still could feel something different. It was on his skin, on his tongue, in the way the city reverberated to his senses.
And this office was not his office. Mainly because he had stopped having a office a month prior.
“You are one of those, aren’t you.” A feminine voice he could not recognize sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll send you back in the blink of an eye, so don’t freak out, ok?”
Matt wanted to ask what the hell she was talking about, but was cut off by two men opening the door and stepping inside, clearly engaging in some kind of playful banter that was interrupted when they -presumably- laid eyes on him.
“What—“ One of them, the taller one, said, and his voice sounded strangely familiar.
“He popped out of nowhere in the middle of the office.” The woman explained curtly, and the man sighed.
“I’ll go call Stephen.” He said, sounding tired as he walked into another room.
“I’ll go cancel today’s appointment, it’s not like we can send him somewhere else.” The woman said, walking out as well.
The last man looked around, before sighing. “Honestly, those two.” He muttered. “C’mon, Matty, don’t stay there on the floor, we have perfectly fine couches. Are you hurt? Hungry? Do you need anything?” The man said, taking his hand gently to help Matt on his feet. He added, as is it was an afterthought “You have a me in your universe, right?”
Matt managed to stop gaping for a second. He knew that voice, even if te timbre was slightly different. He knew that smell, even if it was nearly covered by the stench of some kind of chemicals. He knew that hand, even if the fingers felt too thin under his. He knew the smell of that shampoo, even if his hair was shorter.
“Foggy?” He managed to breath out.
—
“Something gone wrong with some kind of magic. Or maybe it’s the Avengers’s fault, wouldn’t have been the first time.” Foggy sighed, pushing a cup of tea in Matt’s now gloveless hands. “Anyway, there’s been a lot of universe rifting lately, and we have got a lot of visitors from other universes similar to ours. You are just one of many, but don’t worry, we know how to send you back home, so just relax until Strange gets here, ok?”
For all he was understanding, Foggy could’ve been speaking actual punjabi. But this Foggy (not his Foggy, apparently.) Had help him out the suit, tutted when he seen how thin and unkempt he was. Gently cleaned the blood off his face and gave him tea and cookies.
Now he was sitting at his side on the couch, watching him with mild interest.
“You look really young, and also like shit.” He said, raw honest. “Not that I’m surprised, mind you. Things rough on your side of the multiverse? Do you want to talk about it?”
Matt gulped around a knot in his throat. “Foggy?”
“Yeah, that’s my name.” He replied, gently, with a smile in his voice.
Matt let the cup of tea drop on the floor with a loud crush, closing his fists on Foggy’s shirts and pressing his forehead against Foggy’s chest with a single, dry sob.
—
“Ehy, ehy, it’s ok… It’s ok…”
It wasn’t ok, Matt wanted to wail as this Foggy petted his hair and hugged him like he had knew him for a lifetime. It wasn’t ok, it was never gonna be, because you aren’t home with me.
All he could do was sobbing harder, instead.
—
“The woman you met was Kirsten. Do you have a Kirsten? No? You two are constantly dancing around each other, is in equal parts funny and irritating. But you’d make a cute couple.”
This Foggy was talking nonsense at him, letting Matt cling to him. He had stopped sobbing, finally -still dry, still no tears-. But he wasn’t gonna let Foggy go, ever.
“You look really different than my Matt. I thought the gingerness was a constant of the multiverse, but I had been proven wrong, don’t I? Dark hair suits you, even if it’s strange. And you are a bit shorter too, it’s kinda cute.”
"You never went universe hopping, did you? You looked very confused, earlier. It wouldn't be surprising, you are really young. Well, get used to weird stuff if you keep wearing your superhero garbs—“
"I'm not a superhero." Matt managed to choke out.
"Oh, so you do know how to talk." Foggy teased him playfully. He patted Matt's hair gently. "I don't like how sad you look, Matty. Want to tell me what's wrong?"
What's not wrong?. "You..." Matt licked his lips nervously. "You are gone." He finally forced out, voice low and choked. Foggy tensed.
"Oh." He said, in a whisper. "I'm sorry. What...?"
"It's been more than a year." Matt continued, hands tight on this Foggy's shirt. "You were there and then the next day you were gone. Disappeared without leaving a single trace. I searched for you everywhere, in every way I could possibly think of. But you were gone."
"Oh, Matt, I'm sorry—“
It was as if Matt couldn't stop. He kept talking. "I turned away every person that ever cared about me. I... I did the unthinkable. I killed a man." A cold, hysterical chuckle escaped his lips. "Willingly. I killed many more after him. I closed the firm not much time ago, I was alone and I wasn't working anymore anyway."
Foggy had tensed significantly, and Matt let his shirt go as if he'd got burned.
"You did what?" Foggy asked, breathless, and choked. "Oh, I— Why did you— All that, because of me?"
"Not because of you. Because I'm me>/i>." Matt replied in a defeated whisper. “You’ve always been my moral compass. Without you, I’ve got lost.”
"Matt..." Foggy started, his voice tense, as he shifted slightly away from him unconsciously. The door opened. The other Matt entered, followed by another man.
"... Am I interrupting something?" The other Matt asked, half jokingly half serious. Foggy immediately stood, walking toward his friend.
Putting a safe distance between himself and Matt. It was understandable, really, but Matt was sure he could convince him to forgive what he had done—
"It's nothing. Hi, Stephen." Foggy said, sounding unsure. "Ready?"
"Yes, of course." The man called Stephen replied in a calm, collected tone. "Ready to go back, Matthew?"
What? "I don't want to go back." Matt replied, breathless.
The declaration was followed by long seconds of silence.
"But you have to." Stephen reasoned calmly. "This was an unnatural occurrence, you have to get back to your own universe. Your presence would create even a bigger rift-"
"I'm not going back." Matt replied, stubborn, voice trembling.
He could hear Foggy and the other Matt exchange a look, and he distantly wondered if this Matt could see.
"Look, it's not a available choice, your presence here could become dangerous for the entire planet, and the entire universe after.” Stephen said, sounding slightly impatient. “It’s not something up to debate.”
Matt took a step back, and the other Matt instantly surged forward and grabbed his arm, growling “Don’t even think about it.”
“You can’t—“ Matt choked, trying to fight against the other him’s surprisingly strong hold. “I don’t want to go back!”
“Stephen—!” The other Matt half-yelled, dodging Matt’s punch. He turned Matt’s arm on his back, painfully, closing the other arm around Matt’s neck.
“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK!” Matt screamed, trashing against his counterpart to no avail. The other Matt was obviously more experienced, because he didn’t give even an inch. “DON’T SEND ME BACK, < i>PLEASE!”
The last thing he heard before the sensation of being on a roller coaster was this universe Foggy’s choked sob.
Day 432, reprise
Matt fell badly on his knees and his hands hit concrete as he tried to find his balance back, barely gulping down the bile that was rising in his throat.
Loud noises surrounded him, people screaming, was he back? HIs sense were on the fritz, nothing made sense—
“He came out of there— shoot!“ Someone booming voice said above the deafening noise.
“But he looks human—“
“Shoot!”
Matt had tried to stand, confused, wobbly on his legs. He was pretty sure he tried to stand, but he heard a loud noise that made his ears ring now he was back down, concrete pressing on his face, pain radiating from his abdomen—
Sounds came muffled, indistinct, under the ringing still in his ears, but he could feel the blood seeping over the shirt that Foggy -The other Foggy, the one that petted his hair and called him “Matty”, the Foggy that shuffled away from him when he discovered just how really fucked up Matt was- had gave him, spilling on the concrete.
The other Foggy had let him go without a protest, the other Foggy that heard him scream and did nothing—
He felt something on his cheeks. Blood—? Oh. No.
Hi tears were back.
The other Foggy had done nothing.
Not his Foggy, not the one that had disappeared a lifetime ago, leaving him alone without a guidance in a world that did its best and succeeded in chewing Matt up and spitting him out as broken as it gets—
Not his Foggy that— Smelled— In that way that Matt was smelling right now.
An hand on his head, an hand on his shoulder, firm and familiar.
The light shuffle of long hair brushing shoulders.
“Matt?”
His Foggy.