"Been watching the news lately?" said Brett Mahoney as he sat down at the counter of the Bagel Hole (Foggy was still working on the name).
"It doesn't seem like much going on in the world besides a dead vigilante," the bagel-maker said.
"A lot going on with that dead vigilante."
"That so?"
"Organized Crime think he was whacked by the Russians. Been all up in their business for the past few weeks."
Foggy pulled a cheese bagel from the rack and started to slice it. Brett always had the roast beef with horseradish sandwich on cheese.
"Nice nurse who pulled the body out of the dumpster said there was somebody sniffing around for him that night," Brett continued. "Be real nice if we could find out who that somebody was." Foggy put the sandwich in front of Brett, and Brett took a bite. "You interested in a conversation?"
"I could be persuaded. This guy got a name?"
"Matthew Murdock."
For a moment, the bagel-maker was lost in a forest of memories. A blind man, knocking on his door. Sleeping, only a few feet away. The smile...
"Matt," Foggy said.
"You know this guy?" Brett said.
"I know of him."
"Know him in the biblical sense?"
"I haven't thought of him since I was twenty-five."
"You think of him a lot when you were twenty-five?"
"I don't remember."
The bagel-maker remembers everything.
The facts were these: Matthew Michael Murdock, thirty years, three weeks, two days, eleven hours and fifty-one minutes old, was found in a dumpster in Hell's Kitchen, moments after expiring there. Who caused his expiration seemed to be a question only Matthew Murdock could answer.
The medical examiner was more than happy to grant the deceased an audience, due to the historical context.
"Um, I just want to, can I do this alone?" Foggy said. "On account of the whole historical context?"
"You got something personal you need to say?" Brett said.
"No," Foggy lied. Brett scowled. "OK, maybe, but I have nothing to gain but a small amount of closure."
"What you got open that needs closing?"
"I just want to tell him something - one of those stupid things that happens in law school I never got to tell him about."
"OK, well, you ask him who killed him first."
"OK."
"You only got a minute."
"I know."
"Sixty seconds."
"I know. Go grab a coffee, or something."
Brett shut the door to the morgue. The bagel-maker took a deep breath, and pulled back the sheet. Only a certain Pie-Maker could know how he felt upon looking at Matt. Great thought was taken as to where to touch him. The lips? Too forward. The cheek...the cheek. He pressed his finger against the cold skin. He watched Matt gasp, blind eyes opening wide, before a sheet was unceremoniously wrapped around his neck and Foggy was forced to his knees.
"Matt... wait..." he croaked.
"Foggy?" The sheet dropped away. "Why am I naked?"
"Long story, buddy. Might want to put that sheet to use." Foggy felt the sheet being pulled away. "Is it safe?"
"Nothing you haven't seen before."
The bagel-maker thought that there was a great deal he hadn't seen before, which he felt was the most important parts of Matt.
"So what's up? How are you? Haven't heard from you since graduation!" Matt said as Foggy turned around. He had the sheet twisted around his waist, showing off a chest that Foggy was positive had not been that chiseled in law school.
"Good! I mean - do you know what's happening right now?"
Matt shrugged.
"I had the weirdest dream," he said, "I'd been stabbed, and I was in a dumpster, and -"
"You were stabbed. And found in a dumpster. It's probably an odd thing to hear, I wasn't sure how to sugarcoat it."
"What?" Matt pressed a hand to his side. "Why can I hear my ribs moving?" He pushed harder, and Foggy saw a sickening bump form under his skin. "That doesn't hurt, why doesn't it - OH!" Foggy watched realization cross Matt's face.
"You only have a minute. Less," he said bitterly.
"What could I tell you in less than a minute?"
"You could tell me who killed you so, you know, justice can be served."
Matt smiled, and Foggy hadn't forgotten how his brain would do cartwheels whenever Matt smiled.
"That's really sweet," Matt said. "It was the Russians. The Ranskahovs. Not them personally, one of their thugs got a good one in..." He stopped, and pulled the sheet down on his side, exposing a raw wound that didn't seem interested in bleeding. He poked at it experimentally. "Huh."
"Why were you even fighting them?"
"They had a kid -" Matt's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Shit, they still have the kid! I have to go -"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Foggy positioned himself between Matt and the door, his arms wide so as not to touch Matt.
"Foggy, they've got a kid, they're human traffickers, I have to find him -" Matt reached out, and Foggy flinched back out of long habit, and regretted it instantly. For three glorious years, he'd relished every touch Matt had given him, basked in being able to be so close to someone without fear of his power coming into play. And now...
"Foggy?" Matt said, looking like he'd been burned. "Please, I need your help."
Matt's minute of life was nearly over. Foggy should have reached out his hand. He looked at his watch, and watched the second hand cross the twelve.
Re: Foggy/Matt or Foggy/Karen, Pushing Daisies AU
With apologies to Bryan Fuller.
***
"Been watching the news lately?" said Brett Mahoney as he sat down at the counter of the Bagel Hole (Foggy was still working on the name).
"It doesn't seem like much going on in the world besides a dead vigilante," the bagel-maker said.
"A lot going on with that dead vigilante."
"That so?"
"Organized Crime think he was whacked by the Russians. Been all up in their business for the past few weeks."
Foggy pulled a cheese bagel from the rack and started to slice it. Brett always had the roast beef with horseradish sandwich on cheese.
"Nice nurse who pulled the body out of the dumpster said there was somebody sniffing around for him that night," Brett continued. "Be real nice if we could find out who that somebody was." Foggy put the sandwich in front of Brett, and Brett took a bite. "You interested in a conversation?"
"I could be persuaded. This guy got a name?"
"Matthew Murdock."
For a moment, the bagel-maker was lost in a forest of memories. A blind man, knocking on his door. Sleeping, only a few feet away. The smile...
"Matt," Foggy said.
"You know this guy?" Brett said.
"I know of him."
"Know him in the biblical sense?"
"I haven't thought of him since I was twenty-five."
"You think of him a lot when you were twenty-five?"
"I don't remember."
The bagel-maker remembers everything.
The facts were these: Matthew Michael Murdock, thirty years, three weeks, two days, eleven hours and fifty-one minutes old, was found in a dumpster in Hell's Kitchen, moments after expiring there. Who caused his expiration seemed to be a question only Matthew Murdock could answer.
The medical examiner was more than happy to grant the deceased an audience, due to the historical context.
"Um, I just want to, can I do this alone?" Foggy said. "On account of the whole historical context?"
"You got something personal you need to say?" Brett said.
"No," Foggy lied. Brett scowled. "OK, maybe, but I have nothing to gain but a small amount of closure."
"What you got open that needs closing?"
"I just want to tell him something - one of those stupid things that happens in law school I never got to tell him about."
"OK, well, you ask him who killed him first."
"OK."
"You only got a minute."
"I know."
"Sixty seconds."
"I know. Go grab a coffee, or something."
Brett shut the door to the morgue. The bagel-maker took a deep breath, and pulled back the sheet. Only a certain Pie-Maker could know how he felt upon looking at Matt. Great thought was taken as to where to touch him. The lips? Too forward. The cheek...the cheek. He pressed his finger against the cold skin. He watched Matt gasp, blind eyes opening wide, before a sheet was unceremoniously wrapped around his neck and Foggy was forced to his knees.
"Matt... wait..." he croaked.
"Foggy?" The sheet dropped away. "Why am I naked?"
"Long story, buddy. Might want to put that sheet to use." Foggy felt the sheet being pulled away. "Is it safe?"
"Nothing you haven't seen before."
The bagel-maker thought that there was a great deal he hadn't seen before, which he felt was the most important parts of Matt.
"So what's up? How are you? Haven't heard from you since graduation!" Matt said as Foggy turned around. He had the sheet twisted around his waist, showing off a chest that Foggy was positive had not been that chiseled in law school.
"Good! I mean - do you know what's happening right now?"
Matt shrugged.
"I had the weirdest dream," he said, "I'd been stabbed, and I was in a dumpster, and -"
"You were stabbed. And found in a dumpster. It's probably an odd thing to hear, I wasn't sure how to sugarcoat it."
"What?" Matt pressed a hand to his side. "Why can I hear my ribs moving?" He pushed harder, and Foggy saw a sickening bump form under his skin. "That doesn't hurt, why doesn't it - OH!" Foggy watched realization cross Matt's face.
"You only have a minute. Less," he said bitterly.
"What could I tell you in less than a minute?"
"You could tell me who killed you so, you know, justice can be served."
Matt smiled, and Foggy hadn't forgotten how his brain would do cartwheels whenever Matt smiled.
"That's really sweet," Matt said. "It was the Russians. The Ranskahovs. Not them personally, one of their thugs got a good one in..." He stopped, and pulled the sheet down on his side, exposing a raw wound that didn't seem interested in bleeding. He poked at it experimentally. "Huh."
"Why were you even fighting them?"
"They had a kid -" Matt's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Shit, they still have the kid! I have to go -"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Foggy positioned himself between Matt and the door, his arms wide so as not to touch Matt.
"Foggy, they've got a kid, they're human traffickers, I have to find him -" Matt reached out, and Foggy flinched back out of long habit, and regretted it instantly. For three glorious years, he'd relished every touch Matt had given him, basked in being able to be so close to someone without fear of his power coming into play. And now...
"Foggy?" Matt said, looking like he'd been burned. "Please, I need your help."
Matt's minute of life was nearly over. Foggy should have reached out his hand. He looked at his watch, and watched the second hand cross the twelve.
"What if you didn't have to be dead?" Foggy said.
"That would be preferable," Matt said.
Foggy nodded. "Tell me about this kid."