It was exactly on time, just like it had been the last time they’d come to a reckoning like this. Foggy supposed she should probably take her painkillers in time to be sure she’d be in order for the final fitting into her wedding dress scheduled to take place that afternoon. If the wedding was still on at that point. It had been about a month since the day(she’d had her period then too) she’d come home to find Matt’s face pressed against the window, as if he could see that stupid billboard they put up with for reduced rent, and he’d told her, his voice almost dead, what he had heard in one of the apartments down the block, and what had happened when Child Services had come in. Three weeks since he’d admitted to her what he wanted to do, although then she’d told herself that didn’t mean he’d actually do it. A week and a half since he’d come in, his hands covered in blood, and just had a complete breakdown, and while she wasn’t sure how much she could blame him for the deed itself, his confessions of how it had felt had truly horrified her. Six days since she’d caught him ordering things online, and he’d admitted he was going to do it again. That this was going to become a regular thing. Since she’d finished screaming at him, they hadn’t talked to each other much. They’d slept on opposite sides of the bed, her saying nothing as he’d walked out and then walked back in hours later riddled with cuts and bruises, but every night she’d heard him begging her in his sleep not to leave him. Something which a month ago she’d never thought she’d even consider. He’d had to have trained all those years for this. That was among the things she’d screamed at him. That’d he’d had to have known, within him, that he’d do something like this. He’d probably known, too, how she was going to react. Now, at least, she had a better idea of why he’d always dreaded her leaving him, that it hadn’t been just because everyone before her had. She’d spent the week putting off a decision. She hadn’t even breathed a word of any of this to her family; even though it made her cringe with guilt to think about how much money they were sinking into a wedding that might now be called off. She didn’t take the painkillers. The pain wasn’t as bad as it was going to get later, and for now it was just enough to ground her, steel her, make her feel, somehow, that this needed to be done this morning. He’d been gone when she’d woken up, but she had a pretty good idea where he was. Sure enough, she stepped into Fogwell’s Gym and there he was, dancing around the punching bag like it was a real live opponent. The disturbing thought hit her that it might be easier to him to forget it wasn’t when he couldn’t see it, and it was probably absorbing heat from his fists. This was the uglier, nastier side of Matthew Murdock, which she’d seen a glimpse of once, when a college boy had tried to rape her and Matt had unleashed that dangerous temper all over him, but for the most part, she’d been as blind as he was when it came to seeing it-except now her eyes were working perfectly. He slowed and stopped, and asked, “How’d you know I was here?” “Known about your outlet for a while,” she said simply. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it had something to do with your dad. Now I know better.” “Know better about a lot of things, I guess,” he said, and went back to punching, hitting out his pain, she feared. “Yeah, like you have some anger issues,” she said. “Wanna to talk about it?” He looked like a man glaring at her when he stopped again. Then he stopped, sniffed, and said, “Why haven’t you taken your painkillers? You need water? I’ve got it in my bag.” “Didn’t bring my pills.” “I’ve got some. You can have them.” The pain in his voice was almost more than she could bear. But she had to bear it, and worse, because she had to ask the next question. “What happens when you come home still angry?” “You think I’ll hit you?” He asked it mostly matter-of-factly, but a little appalled. That was a good sign, she supposed. “You think I’d want to?” “It would make my decision easier if you did,” she sighed. He stepped back and folded his arms. “I am not going to help you justify leaving me, Foggy. I remember hearing Marci preach about how a woman doesn’t need justification to leave a man and you agreeing with her. And even if you did, well, I guess I’ve provided you with more than enough anyway.” Then he turned and went back to punching the bag. But he abruptly stopped when Foggy said, “You know, I have spent the last six days thinking of every reason that I should. Thinking about what it would be like staying with you, night after night, not knowing where you are, knowing if you keep this up, you’re going to get yourself killed-you know that, right?” “I can take care of myself,” he said, and started upwrapping his hands, then stepped towards her, but stopped, as if he dared not come any closer. “And what about me? Do you know what I’ve really been thinking, Matt? That this is going to end with me as a widow if I’m lucky. If I’m not, well…you ever stop to think what would happen if you went to jail? Or worse? There’s no way we can claim I didn’t know what you were doing. Even if I got off with a light sentence I’d still probably be disbarred…” Tears were in his eyes now, and she could hear the grief in his voice as he said, “This city needs me in that mask, Foggy.” Foggy had a couple of times over the week fantasized she could get him to stop for her. Although the truth was, the idea of having that type of power over a fellow human being made her sick. Looked like she didn’t, anyway, which was relieving. Even if it hurt, beyond what she’d even anticipated, hearing it confirmed he was going to choose this madness over her, even though he clearly thought now he couldn’t have both. And her next words were, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does. But I don’t.” Tears were coming from both of them now; down below her innards clenched hard and for a moment she thought she was going to jackknife. She knew what the sensible thing to do now was, to protect her heart, her career, maybe everything she had in life, or possibly even her life itself. It was to finish it, walk out, deliver the news to her family. But no, she knew, because she’d spent six days trying to decide to do that, and hadn’t. Her decision had only been left still unmade. But as she paused, he turned towards his bag and said, “Foggy, let me at least give you the painkillers, please.” And that was it. That was the Matt Murdock she knew, and that meant she wasn’t going to save herself; she was going to give him this one, crazy option. “That’s all I need.” It broke from her involuntarily. “I only ever needed the man I love. The man I love enough that even after six days of telling myself all the reasons I need to call off this engagement, I still don’t want to give him up. The man I still desperately want to share everything with. Our home, our hearts, our careers, our thoughts, our dreams, bills, crushing debt…but in a year’s time, Matt, is he still going to be the man who comes home to me? Or will this man in the mask who goes out and hits people and enjoys it consume him?” And then finally he came to her, pill, water bottle, and even crackers in hand, and say, “I can still give you him, Foggy; I swear it. Honestly, even if being married to me is too much for you to handle, I still want to go into practice with you; I want everything you’re willing to give me.” His voice was still shaking, though the tears had momentarily stopped. “But if you are, I promise I will be your loyal partner both in the office and at home, I will never raise my hands to you, and I will always love you.” As she took the pill from his hand, she laid a finger on his wrist, and felt his pulse, hammering, of course, and she didn’t have his ability to read people, but she believed him completely. She took hold of that wrist as she took the water bottle in her other hand and swallowed the pill, and by the time she had swallowed a second cracker she was sure of everything. “I can do this,” she realized it out loud. “I can be there, I can endure you going out, and keep the first aid kit stocked. And I’ll keep your secret-I’ve already kept one, right, what’s another? And I’ll keep the firm going on the days when you’ve gotten yourself injured, and I’ll be there to help on those nights when you can’t live with yourself, because really, baby, those are definitely happening, and there’ll be times I hate you, but even then, I promise, Matt, I will always love you.” And then they were kissing, hard and desperate, him nearly lifting her up off the floor as he pressed her against the boxing pen. There was blood on his hands from where he’d punched the bag too hard, and she could tell he had a bad cut on his back that was still bleeding a little too. When she thought about it, and the blood between her legs really starting to come out now, it almost felt appropriate, as did the pain steadily getting worse in her stomach, as well as in her heart, but that was pain she had chosen, because having this man in her arms for as long as he lasted was still worth all of it. She would think of this moment two weeks later, when they again made promises to each other and kissed, this time in front of Father Lantom and her family, and so were united in the eyes of the world, the law, and the God Matt believed in. And Foggy understood and appreciated the significance of all that, she really did. But even then, on what she had once believed would be the biggest day of her life, all she could think was it was impossible to feel any more utterly and irrevocably committed to Matthew Murdock as she had already felt, that no words or gestures could do it more than the ones they’d shared in that empty gym that morning.
Prescription Strength (6/8)
It had been about a month since the day(she’d had her period then too) she’d come home to find Matt’s face pressed against the window, as if he could see that stupid billboard they put up with for reduced rent, and he’d told her, his voice almost dead, what he had heard in one of the apartments down the block, and what had happened when Child Services had come in. Three weeks since he’d admitted to her what he wanted to do, although then she’d told herself that didn’t mean he’d actually do it. A week and a half since he’d come in, his hands covered in blood, and just had a complete breakdown, and while she wasn’t sure how much she could blame him for the deed itself, his confessions of how it had felt had truly horrified her.
Six days since she’d caught him ordering things online, and he’d admitted he was going to do it again. That this was going to become a regular thing.
Since she’d finished screaming at him, they hadn’t talked to each other much. They’d slept on opposite sides of the bed, her saying nothing as he’d walked out and then walked back in hours later riddled with cuts and bruises, but every night she’d heard him begging her in his sleep not to leave him. Something which a month ago she’d never thought she’d even consider.
He’d had to have trained all those years for this. That was among the things she’d screamed at him. That’d he’d had to have known, within him, that he’d do something like this. He’d probably known, too, how she was going to react. Now, at least, she had a better idea of why he’d always dreaded her leaving him, that it hadn’t been just because everyone before her had.
She’d spent the week putting off a decision. She hadn’t even breathed a word of any of this to her family; even though it made her cringe with guilt to think about how much money they were sinking into a wedding that might now be called off.
She didn’t take the painkillers. The pain wasn’t as bad as it was going to get later, and for now it was just enough to ground her, steel her, make her feel, somehow, that this needed to be done this morning. He’d been gone when she’d woken up, but she had a pretty good idea where he was.
Sure enough, she stepped into Fogwell’s Gym and there he was, dancing around the punching bag like it was a real live opponent. The disturbing thought hit her that it might be easier to him to forget it wasn’t when he couldn’t see it, and it was probably absorbing heat from his fists. This was the uglier, nastier side of Matthew Murdock, which she’d seen a glimpse of once, when a college boy had tried to rape her and Matt had unleashed that dangerous temper all over him, but for the most part, she’d been as blind as he was when it came to seeing it-except now her eyes were working perfectly.
He slowed and stopped, and asked, “How’d you know I was here?”
“Known about your outlet for a while,” she said simply. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it had something to do with your dad. Now I know better.”
“Know better about a lot of things, I guess,” he said, and went back to punching, hitting out his pain, she feared.
“Yeah, like you have some anger issues,” she said. “Wanna to talk about it?”
He looked like a man glaring at her when he stopped again. Then he stopped, sniffed, and said, “Why haven’t you taken your painkillers? You need water? I’ve got it in my bag.”
“Didn’t bring my pills.”
“I’ve got some. You can have them.” The pain in his voice was almost more than she could bear.
But she had to bear it, and worse, because she had to ask the next question. “What happens when you come home still angry?”
“You think I’ll hit you?” He asked it mostly matter-of-factly, but a little appalled. That was a good sign, she supposed. “You think I’d want to?”
“It would make my decision easier if you did,” she sighed.
He stepped back and folded his arms. “I am not going to help you justify leaving me, Foggy. I remember hearing Marci preach about how a woman doesn’t need justification to leave a man and you agreeing with her. And even if you did, well, I guess I’ve provided you with more than enough anyway.” Then he turned and went back to punching the bag.
But he abruptly stopped when Foggy said, “You know, I have spent the last six days thinking of every reason that I should. Thinking about what it would be like staying with you, night after night, not knowing where you are, knowing if you keep this up, you’re going to get yourself killed-you know that, right?”
“I can take care of myself,” he said, and started upwrapping his hands, then stepped towards her, but stopped, as if he dared not come any closer.
“And what about me? Do you know what I’ve really been thinking, Matt? That this is going to end with me as a widow if I’m lucky. If I’m not, well…you ever stop to think what would happen if you went to jail? Or worse? There’s no way we can claim I didn’t know what you were doing. Even if I got off with a light sentence I’d still probably be disbarred…”
Tears were in his eyes now, and she could hear the grief in his voice as he said, “This city needs me in that mask, Foggy.”
Foggy had a couple of times over the week fantasized she could get him to stop for her. Although the truth was, the idea of having that type of power over a fellow human being made her sick. Looked like she didn’t, anyway, which was relieving. Even if it hurt, beyond what she’d even anticipated, hearing it confirmed he was going to choose this madness over her, even though he clearly thought now he couldn’t have both.
And her next words were, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does. But I don’t.”
Tears were coming from both of them now; down below her innards clenched hard and for a moment she thought she was going to jackknife. She knew what the sensible thing to do now was, to protect her heart, her career, maybe everything she had in life, or possibly even her life itself. It was to finish it, walk out, deliver the news to her family.
But no, she knew, because she’d spent six days trying to decide to do that, and hadn’t. Her decision had only been left still unmade.
But as she paused, he turned towards his bag and said, “Foggy, let me at least give you the painkillers, please.” And that was it. That was the Matt Murdock she knew, and that meant she wasn’t going to save herself; she was going to give him this one, crazy option.
“That’s all I need.” It broke from her involuntarily. “I only ever needed the man I love. The man I love enough that even after six days of telling myself all the reasons I need to call off this engagement, I still don’t want to give him up. The man I still desperately want to share everything with. Our home, our hearts, our careers, our thoughts, our dreams, bills, crushing debt…but in a year’s time, Matt, is he still going to be the man who comes home to me? Or will this man in the mask who goes out and hits people and enjoys it consume him?”
And then finally he came to her, pill, water bottle, and even crackers in hand, and say, “I can still give you him, Foggy; I swear it. Honestly, even if being married to me is too much for you to handle, I still want to go into practice with you; I want everything you’re willing to give me.” His voice was still shaking, though the tears had momentarily stopped. “But if you are, I promise I will be your loyal partner both in the office and at home, I will never raise my hands to you, and I will always love you.”
As she took the pill from his hand, she laid a finger on his wrist, and felt his pulse, hammering, of course, and she didn’t have his ability to read people, but she believed him completely. She took hold of that wrist as she took the water bottle in her other hand and swallowed the pill, and by the time she had swallowed a second cracker she was sure of everything. “I can do this,” she realized it out loud. “I can be there, I can endure you going out, and keep the first aid kit stocked. And I’ll keep your secret-I’ve already kept one, right, what’s another? And I’ll keep the firm going on the days when you’ve gotten yourself injured, and I’ll be there to help on those nights when you can’t live with yourself, because really, baby, those are definitely happening, and there’ll be times I hate you, but even then, I promise, Matt, I will always love you.”
And then they were kissing, hard and desperate, him nearly lifting her up off the floor as he pressed her against the boxing pen. There was blood on his hands from where he’d punched the bag too hard, and she could tell he had a bad cut on his back that was still bleeding a little too. When she thought about it, and the blood between her legs really starting to come out now, it almost felt appropriate, as did the pain steadily getting worse in her stomach, as well as in her heart, but that was pain she had chosen, because having this man in her arms for as long as he lasted was still worth all of it.
She would think of this moment two weeks later, when they again made promises to each other and kissed, this time in front of Father Lantom and her family, and so were united in the eyes of the world, the law, and the God Matt believed in. And Foggy understood and appreciated the significance of all that, she really did. But even then, on what she had once believed would be the biggest day of her life, all she could think was it was impossible to feel any more utterly and irrevocably committed to Matthew Murdock as she had already felt, that no words or gestures could do it more than the ones they’d shared in that empty gym that morning.