“I...” Matt manages to roll himself onto his side, facing Foggy. “Yes.”
“Did somebody tell you?” There are so many different kinds of hurt in his voice.
“Course... not. A couple of them were talking about it while I was going through some briefs.” It's technically true, and easier than explaining that they were two rooms away at the time.
“Well, where is he?”
Matt realizes he can't shake his head while lying down, so he lifts his uninjured hand instead. “You shouldn't know. They shouldn't be... able to get to you, too.”
“They won't have to. Because we're telling them. As soon as somebody walks through that door.”
Matt's ribs are protesting, and he takes stock of his injuries. His hand is ruined, useless, who knows for how long. His lip and cheek are swelling, and he can feel a lump rising on the back of his head. If it's a concussion, he's probably in no state to tell. There's a stab in his side and stomach every time he tries to breathe. And then there's everything that he doesn't want to think about, the bites and the cuts and the tearing, throbbing pain inside him.
“No.”
“You can't be saying this. You – this is our only chance. We've got to get you out of here.”
“We'll find something else.”
“What else could we possibly find? I don't even know how long you'll be – ” his voice breaks down, and for a few seconds all Matt hears are quiet, choking breaths. “I don't know how long you can hold on. Newcomb can take care of himself. He's got protection. But you're right here, and Matt you're – ”
“They won't let us go. They'll kill us, or... you heard him... they'll sell us or...”
“You idiot! It's better than watching you die!” Foggy cuts off abruptly. “I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just... I'm scared, Matt.”
The fear is seeping into Matt's bones too. The room's dank, hot air is smothering him, it feels like a tomb already, except that a tomb wouldn't stink of blood and sweat. He doesn't know when the man will be back. For a moment all he wants to do is tell Foggy the location and throw himself on their mercy, whatever they do to them. But he can't even let himself consider that.
“Foggy, we've... what have we done at Landman & Zack? We've sat in while they were filing lawsuits against sick old men. While they were trying to put... gag orders on kids with lead poisoning. All we've done, every single case – ” he breaks off coughing and has to stop, compose himself “ – is make sure that people who are suffering get as little as humanly possible. But we've finally got one case – one – that stands a chance at helping somebody. I don't care what it takes. I'm not going to screw it up.”
They're both silent for a long time. Matt listens to Foggy's uneven, terrified breathing, his occasional sobs. He hears him steady his voice. “Okay. But what... I don't know what else we can do.”
“I'll figure it out. Somehow.” Matt doesn't bother trying to smile, because he's sure it would make him look even worse. But he tries to at least make sure he's not wincing in pain. "Don't worry."
Re: FILL 9/? Matt & Foggy are kidnapped. (non-con/torture)
“Did somebody tell you?” There are so many different kinds of hurt in his voice.
“Course... not. A couple of them were talking about it while I was going through some briefs.” It's technically true, and easier than explaining that they were two rooms away at the time.
“Well, where is he?”
Matt realizes he can't shake his head while lying down, so he lifts his uninjured hand instead. “You shouldn't know. They shouldn't be... able to get to you, too.”
“They won't have to. Because we're telling them. As soon as somebody walks through that door.”
Matt's ribs are protesting, and he takes stock of his injuries. His hand is ruined, useless, who knows for how long. His lip and cheek are swelling, and he can feel a lump rising on the back of his head. If it's a concussion, he's probably in no state to tell. There's a stab in his side and stomach every time he tries to breathe. And then there's everything that he doesn't want to think about, the bites and the cuts and the tearing, throbbing pain inside him.
“No.”
“You can't be saying this. You – this is our only chance. We've got to get you out of here.”
“We'll find something else.”
“What else could we possibly find? I don't even know how long you'll be – ” his voice breaks down, and for a few seconds all Matt hears are quiet, choking breaths. “I don't know how long you can hold on. Newcomb can take care of himself. He's got protection. But you're right here, and Matt you're – ”
“They won't let us go. They'll kill us, or... you heard him... they'll sell us or...”
“You idiot! It's better than watching you die!” Foggy cuts off abruptly. “I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just... I'm scared, Matt.”
The fear is seeping into Matt's bones too. The room's dank, hot air is smothering him, it feels like a tomb already, except that a tomb wouldn't stink of blood and sweat. He doesn't know when the man will be back. For a moment all he wants to do is tell Foggy the location and throw himself on their mercy, whatever they do to them. But he can't even let himself consider that.
“Foggy, we've... what have we done at Landman & Zack? We've sat in while they were filing lawsuits against sick old men. While they were trying to put... gag orders on kids with lead poisoning. All we've done, every single case – ” he breaks off coughing and has to stop, compose himself “ – is make sure that people who are suffering get as little as humanly possible. But we've finally got one case – one – that stands a chance at helping somebody. I don't care what it takes. I'm not going to screw it up.”
They're both silent for a long time. Matt listens to Foggy's uneven, terrified breathing, his occasional sobs. He hears him steady his voice. “Okay. But what... I don't know what else we can do.”
“I'll figure it out. Somehow.” Matt doesn't bother trying to smile, because he's sure it would make him look even worse. But he tries to at least make sure he's not wincing in pain. "Don't worry."