Archive of Our Own

“Drink.”

“Foggy, we have a case to present tomorrow—”

Matt was interrupted with a bottle slamming on his desk, followed by the two tinks of cups sliding onto the wood. He tilted his head, then shrugged. Fine. He moved the braille display and closed his laptop, satisfied with letting them rest on the radiator. He knew the office space by heart, listening to Foggy roll his chair through the door into his room to sit across from him. Only one swift kick made it clear he had chosen to ride it the distance, rotating slowly with his arms out in triumph when he made it to the center of the small room in his well-aimed boost.

“You know I can’t see you do that.”

“Then how do you know I’m doing something?”

“I don’t need sight to see.” Matt struck his foot on the floor, wanting a better picture. Yeah, Foggy was smiling. He was grinning like a dopey idiot, a chunk of hair covering his eyes. Matt asked him once what his hair color was, and he now knew it was blonde, the color of musty wheat left too long in storage. Foggy had abandoned his suit jacket a while ago, his tie loose around his shoulders.

Matt folded his glasses on the table, the smell of alcohol stinging his nose. Liquid sloshed into two cups, then the cap was replaced. He held out his hand, waiting as Foggy pressed the cool handle into his hand.

“A coffee mug?” he questioned, taking a sip.

“Hey, if you think it’ll make us look professional to put shot glasses in the office, then you’re more than welcome to buy some.”

“I thought looking professional was just keeping our shoes on behind our desks.”

“And our pants.” Foggy put more weight in the words than they really deserved. “I doubt Karen will keep working here if she sees your underwear.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Given what you used to wear in college? Yes, absolutely.”

“Well, Karen can join us if she wants.”

Foggy snorted into his mug. “The first Friday of every month, we leave our pants and skirts at the door. We’ll buy a little coat rack for them.”

“If the client takes off their pants too, we work pro bono.”

“That is not how we keep clients.”

“Oh, so you were fine with it until money came into the picture?”

“Yes, Matt. We need money. We can’t pay for the office with coat racks and coffee mugs.”

“Then you should let me finish working on the case for tomorrow instead of drinking.” Matt downed his drink in a final swallow despite his earlier words.

“Take a break. Pass the time. Tell me a fun story, then afterwards you’ll be able to look at your file with a fresh mind.” Foggy kicked off one shoe, then another, the loafers thumping onto the wooden floor. He propped his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll do it if you take your feet off my desk.” Matt knew he wasn’t going to argue how he knew that, instead complying immediately. “Okay then. A…fun story…” 

“Think of one I wasn’t there for so I don’t know the ending.”

“Hm.” Matt hummed, drumming his fingers on the side of the mug. It calmed him down a bit to have that constant wave of information that he could control, receiving feedback on where everything was without the pressure of insistent sound pressing on his ears. “Did I ever tell you how I was blinded?”

Foggy shook his head, then stopped when he realized his mistake. “No, you didn’t. I always thought you were born with it.”

“I had vision for the first…nine years of my life?” It had to be nine. Yeah, definitely. “Then one day I was walking home from school. I wanted to get back soon since my dad had a big match that night and I wanted to wish him luck before he left. So I ran most of the way.” Matt’s blank eyes staring into the empty contents of the mug. “I guess God wanted to hasten my steps. I was right outside of the apartment, I just had to cross the street and I’d literally be at our doorstep. Then, when I was waiting for the signal…” He fidgeted with the handle, rolling the cup in his hands. “There was an old man trying to jaywalk. I guess he was just impatient. He would tell my dad later that he had really bad vision, so he truly didn’t see the truck coming, otherwise he wouldn’t have attempted it. But it was definitely going to run him down, so I pushed him out of the way.” He placed the mug on the table, lacing his fingers in his lap. “The driver saw the kid run into the road, even though he didn’t see the old man. He definitely would’ve hit me instead of that guy if he didn’t try to veer away. The truck turned on its side in the middle of the intersection, completely blocking everyone. It completely knocked the wind out of me, so I was down too. Something leaked out, and I was originally lying face down on the pavement. My dad ran out and saw it happen, tried to roll me over and wipe the liquid out of my eyes, but.” Matt shrugged nonchalantly. “You can’t get radioactive waste out of your corneas with a FerryHawks t-shirt.”

“Jesus, Matt.” Foggy poured him another drink and tapped on the back of his hand so he’d know it was in his cup. “I said tell me a fun story.”

“You also said to tell one you weren’t there for.” Matt cracked a smile when he brought the mug to his lips again. “I don’t have a lot of fun stories without you in it.”

“Being coy about that doesn’t make it less depressing.”

“Do you have any depressing questions, then?”

“Really?”

“The floor is yours. Ask me anything you want.”

“What was the last thing you saw?”

Matt swallowed. “My father. He was scared, and tried to cover my eyes with his sleeves. Then everything was burning, and my vision bubbled at the edges and closed in. After that, it was gone.”

“Just like…darkness? Completely?”

“Pretty much. I’ll never see color again.” I can get by in most other areas though. Matt felt the creeping realization with a chuckle. “I never got to look at a smartphone. Never. I saw computers, but they’re different from what I can tell. I think my laptop is smaller than those blocks they had in the computer lab at school.”

“They’re very different.”

“Tell me how.”

Foggy shrugged, finishing off his drink before serving himself another. “Uh, do you remember how websites used to look?”

“Yeah. They were just pages on the screen.”

“A lot of places have designs on them now. They put colors and logos and advertisements all around the corners.” He took a sip, the amusement ticking his tone. “Honestly, it’s really annoying because they’re intentionally placed where you’ll click on them.”

“So it’s just cluttered?”

“No, not really. Okay, yes, maybe a little, but it depends. Everything way back then was all chaotic. Now it’s neat and organized, as well as all over the place.”

“Huh.” Matt had no clue how to parse that information, but he would never really have to, so it was fine to appreciate the novelty in it. “I’ve noticed that they’re a lot slimmer. You can carry them around in a bag.”

“Yep. Although they’re not colorful anymore.”

“What.”

“Most computers are black, white, and silver. Oh, and rose gold if you’re an asshole.”

Matt nearly destroyed his braille display when grabbing for his laptop, holding it in both hands for Foggy to see. “What color is this?”

“Rose gold.”

“No way.”

“You’re right, it’s black.”

Matt knocked his head into the back of his chair when he laughed. “You’re such a dick.”

“I had you for a second though, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” No. Even though his heart rate increased when he had a computer shoved in his face, he definitely was lying. Matt knew how to recognize the signs in his friend before the words were even spoken. “I can’t believe they made computers so…boring.”

“I know, right?” Foggy clicked his mug on the table. “I would do anything to show up to court with a pink laptop like Legally Blonde. Did you see Legally Blonde?”

“Just missed it, sorry.”

“She shows up to Harvard law school with a really bad laptop. Actually, it may have been orange.”

“Harvard?”

“Yes, that’s the point of the movie. She goes to Harvard law school for a boy and then becomes a lawyer because he sucks ass.”

“Sounds fun. Wish I could watch it.”

“I mean, you have that uh…that descriptive audio thing, right?”

“Yeah, but it can be hard to find that in older movies.”

“I’ll help any time, brother.”

“Thank you.” Matt didn’t turn his head as he put the computer back on the radiator, stopping when he couldn’t feel the braille display. Shoot. He knocked his knuckles on the desk once for the audio response, scooping up the device as soon as he located it. He already had it stacked on his laptop before he realized his mistake. “I did pick up the correct thing, right?” He quipped to cover it up, “I didn’t just grab a piece of firewood off the floor?”

“No, you got it.”

“Lucky Murdock strikes again.”

“I don’t think you can call yourself lucky when you got super serum in your eyes.”

“Radioactive waste.” Matt pointed right at him, then waved his finger in the general area to make it less accurate. “It was radioactive waste.”

“Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. You have Turtle Power, Matt.”

“They stole that from me.”

“From a random kid in New York?”

“Yes.” Matt nodded solemnly like what he committed to wasn’t complete nonsense.

“If you share your radioactive waste, can you both do amazing flips on skateboards?”

“I can flip off of a skateboard, face first into the brick wall I crash into.”

“That does kind of suck, though.”

“Breaking my nose on a skateboard as an adult when you did that as a kid?”

“I told you that in confidence but no.” Foggy poked his arm with an accusing finger. “I mean that like…every time you hear about someone getting some weird chemical in their body they get superpowers. I mean, how many heroes do we have where they got radioactive bullshit in their blood and they became super strong or able to climb up walls? You’re blind forever.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sure there’s a world where nobody gets powers from radioactivity and everyone gets blinded or killed.”

“Yeah but you were helping someone. Everyone else just had that power dropped in their laps and did something with it afterwards. You already took that first step.”

“I guess so.” Matt could lift things that were a bit heavier, but it wasn’t quite super strength. It was more like he didn’t need to spend as much time working out to keep the muscle mass or his endurance in check. Not that he was avoiding exercise or anything, with his usual patrols. But he can’t claim to be working late when Foggy also mentioned his plans to do so that day. Now here he was, drinking and ignoring his responsibilities.

Like a normal person.

But Foggy took his prolonged silence as a different signal entirely. “I’m sorry man, I should’ve asked if you were fine with me—”

“It’s alright, Foggy,” he was quick to correct. “It happened a long time ago. You’d have to be pretty damn intentional if you wanted to hurt my feelings over it.”

“If you wanted power from that creepy sludge, what would it be?”

“Better vision than you.”

Foggy choked on his drink, pounding his chest with one fist. “A-asshole.”

“It’s true. If you get your powers from whatever got splashed, it would have to be my eyes, right?”

“Or the brain, if it got in your optic nerves.”

“The sensory part of it. Whichever one that is.”

“You took the class on brain goo, not me.”

“And it helps me much more with our law practice than your history of music class.” Matt rolled his eyes in his direction, holding out his mug for a refill.

“I know who Mozart is now!” Foggy swelled with pride as the glug glug glug of alcohol sloshed into the cup.

“Name one song by him.”

“...Hall of the Mountain King?”

“That was a hundred years after Mozart.”

“Oh, are you big on classical music now?”

“Ehhhh.” Matt did a so-so gesture. “But I’ll listen to Mozart with you if you let me get back to work.”

“Oh come on, it’s almost midnight. What more could you possibly have to do?”

“Recite what I need to say.”

“This is going to be a multi day trial, Matt, you don’t need a closing argument and I’m opening like always.”

“Then I guess my job is to listen to your opening statement.”

“That’s more like it!”

Foggy was amazed that Matt showed up early, already waiting on the courthouse steps when he approached.

“I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure you left your tardiness at home.” Foggy brushed his shoulder as he continued onward, patiently keeping pace as his friend tapped each step with the cane in his ascension.

“Maybe I wanted to see the opening statement for once, is that so unbelievable?”

“You say that like this is the last day we’re going to court.”

“We both committed to being all in, didn’t we?” Matt deftly dodged the door before it could hit him, stopping to let Foggy in first. “Can’t pay for the office if we only have three wins on record.”

“Let’s hope we make it four.”

“This is an open and shut case, we’ll be fine.”

“An open and shut case with a lot of evidence to sift through. Don’t get cocky.”

“Me? Cocky? When?” Matt pointed at his face with an offended gasp, eyebrows poking up behind his glasses. “How could you? I would never.”

“Look, the client is clearly scared because of the whole thing with the ex. Let’s stay as serious as possible to get it over with.”

“Cross my heart!”

“Matt.”

“Foggy, it will help if we don’t look worried. She was saved by—”

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen who said he would personally look out for her, yeah I got the spiel straight from the horse’s mouth.” Foggy stopped outside of the courtroom, scanning the benches for the woman. “He’s not going to be here, I know it. It’d be stupid for him to do that.” Nobody would be dumb enough to sit in on a court case when the building’s coated in security cameras.

“I don’t think he wears that mask all the time.”

“I’d hope not, it would make going on a coffee run awkward. There she is.” He pointed off to the girl hunched in on herself at a bench, a police officer close by for safety. “It’s time, bud.”

Of course, no case is ever as open and shut as Matt would want it. At first everything was fine, but the prosecuting attorney found ways to meander and try to argue that they should be allowed to put someone on the stand who did not need to be there.

He knew the accused was glaring holes into his back from the moment he got there, and it didn’t go away. Maybe it was because both he and Foggy decided to sit as close to the aisle as possible to put more distance between him and the defendant. But with Foggy up and actively arguing, Matt was handling the brunt of it. He could feel his fingers tingling from the strain of his grip on the cane, not loosening for a single moment. He has to be ready, just in case…

What? Just in case that man is stupid enough to start a fight in the middle of court? He lifted his cane slightly and stamped it back on the ground again, quiet enough to not disturb the others. The man was a head and shoulders taller than him, with his hair in an obscenely long ponytail. He elected to show up to one of the most professional settings possible in sagging cargo pants and a too-tight t-shirt. There was a metal stud in his lip, the scent of metal finally drawing a connection. His nose still smelled like copper under the bandage where Daredevil knocked him into the wall, a wall that was destroyed and he was now being sued for damages over. Yeah, he would fight in court, wouldn’t he?

I would win.

That wasn’t cockiness. That was just a fact. Someone who resolved their issues with punching in plaster and going after someone who left him a year ago would never stand a chance against a martial artist, blind or not.

But he didn’t know that.

He just knew that the lady he always thought was weak was being defended by a blind man and someone who seriously called himself “Foggy” in a professional setting. Both fresh out of law school.

And in a legal sense, they were kicking his ass.

Matt smirked, nodding approvingly as Foggy returned to his seat. Open and shut. Regardless of whether a vigilante interfered, the man showed up with the intent to do harm and damaged personal property in his rampage. The prosecutor can claim it could have been the Devil all he wants, but he has no one to walk into the courtroom and back that up.

Well, no one who would go against their client.

The judge called for ten minute recess anyway to go over whether there was really a witness to bring into it (there wasn’t, it was just a formality). Matt stood last, letting the others at his table go ahead of him. He pressed the tip of his cane into the ground.

The accused was still watching him.

What could he possibly want? Why him and not Foggy or the defendant? Don’t give any information away, just file out calmly. Make sure there’s someone between you and him. Do not fight in the courtroom.

He stopped when Foggy stopped, his cane knocking his heel before he settled to stand next to him. He squeezed the handle, letting the vibrations report back to him. The hairs on his nape gave him the same information as the sounds. Still being watched.

“Foggy, I’m going to head to the restroom. It’s down this hall and to the right, correct?”

“Got it in one. Try to be back soon, you’re up after recess.”

“I’ll be here, I promise.” Liar. He wanted to be completely present for this case since he ended up so…involved. This was not how he planned on being involved. Then again, plans rarely come to fruition.

He just needs to lay some bait really quickly, figure out what’s really going on, and settle it quickly out of court so they can finish it off in session.

Matt made the knocking of his cane extra loud as he passed, leaving a very clear path for someone to follow even if he disappeared out of sight for a moment. Everyone was already giving him their own feedback just by moving, but he needed the extra reassurance. As soon as he was out of Foggy’s way, the accused followed.

A hothead. Matt turned right, pausing when he was sure he was far enough away to avoid making a commotion. This man wants to hash it out with violence, huh? Well, he can handle that. All it took last time was one punch. Maybe he’ll mix it up with a kick. He definitely didn’t want his cane damaged though. He dropped it on the ground with a clatter, rolling it as far away as he could before turning back around to face him.

The man stopped when he saw Matt waiting.

“I couldn’t help but notice you were following me.”

“How could you know that?”

“I’m a really good lawyer.”

The man huffed, crossing his arms. “This is between me and her, alright? You don’t need to be involved.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, but I do need to be involved.” Matt cocked his head. “You trespassed and destroyed an expensive piece of personal property. Other than the accusations of assault, you at the very least need to reimburse her for the repairs. That’s what I do.”

“It wouldn’t have been broken if that Devil freak didn’t show up.”

“I think the three fist-sized holes in that wall would tell that story differently.”

“He did that.”

“Why would the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen break into her house the same time you’re breaking into the house and punch her wall?”

“Because he’s a creep.”

“That excuse will not hold up in court, I’m afraid. Please go back to your lawyer, I need to visit the restroom.”

“Fat chance, little man.” The accused stepped into Matt’s personal space, close enough that Matt would have to keep his elbow bent to touch him. He swallowed, not moving his head from where he had his empty gaze trained on his bicep.

“Are you calling me little because you’re taller than me? I couldn’t tell with your dainty footsteps.”

He could hear the fabric stretching on the tight shirt before he reared his fist back, but Matt was already on the move. He dropped to keep his weight on his hands as he swept out his legs, the man nearly collapsing on top of him. Matt rolled out of the way before that happened.

“I would not recommend attacking a lawyer, since we don’t need fists to hurt you.” Matt stood, already on his way to where his cane rolled. On the third step, he had someone else’s feet echoing back. Good, he was getting up. Matt would not have a good time in court if the accused was out cold in the hallway.

Unfortunately, the man was rushing toward him, not away.

Great.

Same arm positioned for the same punch right to his glasses, like he wouldn’t expect a repeat of the tactic. Maybe it was time to show off just a little bit. Matt calmly lifted his hand, meeting him before knuckles could brush his nose. He squeezed his fingers around the accused’s wrist, relishing the expression carved into his face. Shock and horror, repeated back in every line that his hand could pick up.

“How—”

“I told you. I’m a really good lawyer, and lawyers can defend themselves. I would recommend that you cease your actions immediately if you don’t want them brought against you in the trial.”

“Like hell you—” A second hand, this one gripped by the knuckles in a palm that he couldn’t break past no matter how much he pushed against it. “Huh?”

“You are incredibly dim if you think that you can win a court case by attacking the defendant’s lawyer.”

“Let go of me, freak!”

Matt popped his lips, pretending to carefully consider it. “No.”

“Let go or I’ll beat the shit out of you!”

“One, that is a threat of assault that will absolutely be mentioned when recess is over, and two, you are actively failing at beating a blind man so I highly doubt you can do better than this.”

“Matt?” Foggy called from down the hall.

Shit. Matt backed off, resting one hand on the wall. As soon as he did, he could feel someone else running their hand along it just around the corner. He leaned more heavily on it, dropping to a crouch. The accused probably thought he was going for another sweep and stumbled away before he could.

“There you are!” Foggy sighed, then took hastened steps to be at his side. “Hey, what’s wrong? Recess is over soon.”

“I…when I was leaving the restroom, I wasn’t paying attention. I got my cane knocked out of my hand by this man.” He purposefully pointed in the wrong direction. “I’m sure it was just an accident, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

“I see it, just stay right there for a second, okay?” Foggy drifted farther away before coming back and pressing the rod into his palm. “Sorry about that, it doesn’t sound very fun.”

“Don’t worry too much, it happens all the time,” Matt lied, standing slowly with the cane planted on the ground. The accused wasn’t moving. Oh, so he has enough sense to not fight with a witness, but he still doesn’t understand he should avoid assaulting someone in a courthouse?

Although maybe he should check just to be sure. There was no point scanning the walls and ceiling, he doesn’t need to worry about witnesses clinging to the mortar. Just a quick drumming of his fingers on the handle of his cane. No other footsteps in this part of the hallway, just him, Foggy, and the dumbest man he’s ever seen in court.

He was sure it would be fine.

Matt linked arms with his partner to swish his way back to the courtroom, but was met with someone’s shoes. “Excuse me, we need to be in there.”

“Court is adjourned.”

“What?” Foggy asked.

“Safety precaution. We’re calling it a mistrial.”

Matt tipped his head to the side, wondering if the confused puppy act would win him any favors. “What on earth could have happened?”

The man didn’t answer, instead walking away from them.

Foggy chuckled. “He gave you the look of death right there.”

“I—huh?” Was there a witness after all? But who could’ve seen enough to be suspicious, escape his augmented vision to find someone else, get the information to the judge, and convince them to declare a mistrial, all in the span of ten minutes?

“I don’t know, but I guess we have the rest of the day to look over the case.”

“Uh…huh. Yeah, I think I…” Matt bounced his heel on the ground. Nobody was there who wasn’t there before, he could tell. Nobody was looking at them. It wasn’t word of mouth, or someone running through with the information while he was distracted. “I think I better go home, actually. Get a quick rest, come at this with a fresh pair of eyes. We both stayed up too late last night anyway.”

“Is midnight ‘too late’ for you now, gramps?”

“Yes, Pappy Murdock needs a nap.”

Foggy held his arm a little tighter when he tried to pull away. “Are you okay, man? You know you can talk if there’s something up.”

“I’ll be fine. I just…I think this is getting to me a little, is all.”

“Do you have a-a history with this sort of thing? I would understand if you didn’t want to take these kinds of cases. This can be the last one forever.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s the mistrial. Something’s wrong.”

“Maybe they caught something weird on the security cameras.”

Matt could feel his heart squeeze. “The what?”

“There are security cameras, remember? I described them for you.”

“N-no, those are dummies.” He’s checked and made sure they’re dummies. He would not be idiotic enough to try any of this if they weren’t dummies.

“The old ones were, yes. They installed real ones a few weeks ago once they were given more funding for security.”

His breath escaped him. He couldn’t inhale, couldn’t have a new scrap of oxygen in his lungs. “Those are dummies. They aren’t real. They can’t see anything.”

“They’re real—Matt, are you alright? Matt?”

“Where would the security room be. Where.” He phrased it more like an order than a question. Can’t breathe. Can’t find more air.

“I-I don’t know. Do you need to sit down?”

“Find the security room.”

“Matt, people don’t keep the footage on site anymore, not in big buildings like this. It’s probably in some server room across town. Please, take a breath.”

“Server cross town.” He can’t make it that far. If they already saw the footage and declared a mistrial because of it, then they have to have someone who sent it from that room immediately. Someone who will make plenty of copies before he gets there. Copies he can’t find. Copies he can’t get rid of. Copies that someone can easily take and leak.

“Matt—”

“Goodbye.” He stumbled when he broke away from Foggy, not even bothering with using the cane. He held it tight in his grip as he weaved through the crowd with expert precision, letting their horrible colognes and shit taste in shampoo tell him where not to step. Being outside the courthouse didn’t help him breathe. Stopping by the street didn’t either. He just needed to find somewhere to breathe.

Or somewhere to hide until all of the damage is mitigated.

Foggy didn’t know what else he could do, so he still showed up for work the next day. Matt would tell him if he needed comfort, surely. Right now, he may just want to be left alone. Foggy can give him space if he needs to.

The office across from his was empty, their chairs still stationed around the desk.

“Karen, have you seen Matt?”

She shook her head from where she sat, one hand covering her mouth. She was watching something on her computer with intensity she reserves for her investigations. “Foggy, look at this.”

“Hm?” He rounded the table to lean next to her, studying the screen. She was on the website for the New York Bulletin, the top story from last night pulled to the center of the page. Foggy narrowed his eyes, reading out the headline. “Blind ninja lawyer defends himself from assailant at courthouse?”

“Someone took the footage from the security cameras and leaked it.”

“Is that why we had the mistrial?”

“Yep. Watch.” Karen scrolled down to click on the video, letting it play while she leaned back and crossed her arms. Some announcer for the news channel gave a spiel that they probably spent ten whole minutes writing, talking too fast for Foggy to parse any of it. After that, he was confronted with security camera footage looking out from the end of the hall, opposite from where it turned to the main area.

The picture was a bit grainy, but Foggy could see well enough. A man with red glasses and a cane tapped his way into the hallway, facing the camera when he stopped.

“Matt?”

“Do you know any other blind lawyers?”

Matt jerked his head like he was listening for something, then placed his cane on the ground and rolled it as far away as possible. He turned his back to the camera when someone else rounded the corner, the face pixelated by the news.

“That’s…that’s the guy we were up against in court that day.” Foggy felt something constricting his throat, like a snake that wouldn’t release him. “Matt said that…he lied to me. H-he said he just bumped into him and lost his cane.”

“The cameras don’t have audio,” Karen replied, her voice sounding too far away.

Even though they couldn’t hear, Foggy could see threats telegraphed in the larger man’s body language. Who was so desperate that they would threaten a blind man? I guess he knew we were going to win the case. Paying for a wall, emotional damages, and being given a restraining order is quite the serve. Foggy was personally campaigning for jail time, but Matt convinced him it would be a bad idea to stoke the flames even more and that they needed to hedge their bets for a guaranteed win. Not that that seemed to matter to his partner anymore, with how calmly he was reacting to everything on the screen.

He hunched his shoulders as he watched Matt duck down before a fist could break his glasses, for a moment looking like he simply fell. He had his full weight on his hands as he hooked one leg around the accuser’s ankle, pulling it as he rolled to the side. The larger man collapsed, Matt standing next to him like nothing happened.

“What the hell?” Foggy breathed, his face a pale pallor. “How did he—”

“There’s more.”

“Seriously?”

Matt was expressionless as he turned to face the camera, adjusting his tie. He smoothed his blazer before taking a few steps away, towards the bathroom. The man slowly rose behind him. Even with the head blurred out, the fury was clear.

“Shit.” Foggy knew it already happened, but he still had to steady himself with the blood roaring in his ears. Matt twisted on his heel to catch the punch, holding his wrist with a strong hand. After a moment, a second fist was stopped in an open palm, not even bothering to pretend he couldn’t see it.

Words were exchanged he couldn’t hear, instead confronted with the strangest staredown ever. Then Matt tilted his head and released him, moving to have one hand on the wall. He shifted to be on his knees, a profile view on his practiced blank expression as he ran his hand on the ground nearby. Foggy—or rather, the Foggy on the screen—was ready at his side, muttering in his ear to ask what he needed.

“I’ve seen enough.” He backed away and went to his office, shoving his laptop into his satchel.

“Foggy, I’m sure he had a reason—”

“Karen, just document who calls.” He slung the bag over his shoulder, confident steps leaving Karen behind.

Matt tried after leaving that courthouse to figure out who leaked it, he really did. He wandered listening to the buzz of electronics as a pathway, following it as far as the static could take him. It wasn’t enough.

He found the copies, but not before a reporter had them.

He found the reporter, but not before the draft had already been submitted.

He found the publisher, but putting something on the internet wasn’t the same as printing it off. He couldn’t just get rid of it. It was already there.

Matt can hear everything in the city. He has found ways, over time, to completely mute it in his mind. As horrible as it sounds, he can reduce it to white noise if he tries hard enough. As long as he isn’t trying to sleep, he can ignore it. Right now, he knew every time people pressed play on that video. He knew the speech given by heart.

“We all know that lawyers can defend themselves perfectly in court, but what about out of court? Earlier today a domestic abuse trial was suspended because the accused attempted to attack the defendant’s lawyer. The attorney has been identified as Matthew Murdock, one half of the law firm Nelson and Murdock, which has been making waves with their low fees compared to their excellence in court. Even though they’ve been around for only a few months, their victory in the trial of Potter v. Owlsley has catapulted them to the forefront of sticking up for the little guy. Unfortunately for the blind man, he was the ‘little guy’ this morning, but unfortunately for the assailant, he clearly came prepared. Nobody has been able to figure out how he acted this quickly without sight, with the prosecution even leveling accusations that Murdock has been faking his blindness to win favor from juries. His partner Franklin Nelson has not been available to comment, with some claiming that he could have been the mastermind behind this plan. If the accusation holds up in court, all of the previous rulings that the new law firm worked on could be overturned.”

Matt was on the brink of collapse when he finally got to his apartment. It was dark out, he knew that from the way people shouted drunkenly far below, his neighbor already snoring across the hall. He could hear it. Over and over. It was on computers and phones, the televisions, even a screen facing out into the busy street.

They knew. They had to know. Foggy intentionally stays away from the news websites, claiming they “freak him out too much”, but Karen checks it first thing every morning. She was going to show up for work tomorrow and…

He can’t do this. He can’t listen to it anymore. Matt stumbled to his bedroom, then his dresser, feeling around for what he wanted. He couldn’t focus on figuring out his surroundings, not when all of his senses were trained on picking up how many times that story was repeated. Trying to find a little gasp from Karen if she checked her phone before she went to sleep. Wondering if he can smell Foggy stopped in the middle of the crosswalk with the image of his friend blown up in Times Square.

His fingers closed around his prize, finally allowing him a breath of fresh air. He’ll be able to sleep.

“Matt?” Foggy rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting patiently. Nothing. “Hey bud, are you doing alright? I uh, I wanted to check on you after yesterday. Can I come in?”

He didn’t get a response.

“Matt, I know you can hear me. We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to, just let me see you’re okay.”

He knew the guy was stubborn but this was taking it to a new extreme. “Matt, I’m going to unlock your door with the spare key. I just want to make sure you’re doing good. The second I see you I’ll turn around and leave if you want, I promise.” Foggy had kept the key on his ring just in case ever since Matt gave it to him, even though he was never sure why he even had it. Was he that prone to injury that he’ll need someone to check if he doesn’t show up to work?

He slowly turned the key in the slot, letting the door creak open. Silence. It took a few hesitant steps towards the center of the room with the leather couch and coffee table, stopping when he found his partner. Matt was curled up on the couch with a blanket around him, fast asleep. He had removed his tie and stiff suit, shoes propped at the foot of the couch. He was only in his red boxers and black socks. Foggy could see a host of scars and bruises scoring his torso, like a kid who got bored at the beach and started scratching in the sand with his finger. His face was almost entirely blocked from view by blocky headphones and a mask over his nose and mouth. Foggy hadn’t seen him wearing that since college. He found the sunglasses sitting on the table, with the cane long since fallen over and rolled away from the couch. He asked once why Matt doesn’t get one of those collapsable ones for portability, but he claimed that the stiff rod gave off better vibrations.

He hoped that scraping his feet as he walked would alert Matt to his presence, but the man didn’t move. Come on, bud, I feel like a creep now. He stopped right in front of the man, close enough that he could see the shadows on his eyelashes. Wake up so I know you’re okay.

Foggy hovered his hand over his shoulder before taking the final step in jostling him. Brown eyes fluttered open before Foggy was on the ground, two rough hands on his shoulders.

“Matt, it’s me.”

The man’s breath was coming in stuttered gasps, pupils unable to focus on him. Is he still unable to breathe? Is it the mask?

“Matt, come on, buddy. Come on. It’s alright.” Foggy found the strap on the face mask, pulling it away even as his friend tried to stop him. “It’s all good, it’s Foggy.”

Matt’s nostrils flared when they took in the new information, able to process fresh air. “Foggy?”

“Can you hear me, Matt?”

One hand went to his light hair, running it through coarse fingers. Matt inhaled, then exhaled. “Foggy.”

“Yep, it’s me. Let’s take those headphones off, okay?” He moved slowly as he pulled the thick headband away, clearly past its prime from how the paint had rubbed onto his fingers. “Are you alright, buddy?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t…see you.” Matt moved away from him, feeling out where the couch was before sitting back down.

“Why were you sleeping on your couch with headphones and a mask?”

“I needed the quiet. And the-the no smell.” Matt swallowed, hunching over like the world was too overwhelming.

“If you want it back—”

“No. I can’t-I can’t go without it. I just needed to sleep.” Matt stopped, cocking his head. “You’re frightened.”

“I mean, my friend just tackled me when he woke up. That can be frightening.”

“You’re lying.”

“I—well—” Foggy sighed, sitting down next to him. He placed the mask and headphones next to the sunglasses, like that would help with anything. “Any chance you can put pants on before we continue this conversation?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Matt.”

His friend snickered, standing and weaving around the coffee table. He kept the bedroom door open as he slid out the drawer. “Is Karen okay?”

“Yes. Although I should call her and tell her you’re alright. Do you mind?”

Matt shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Thanks.” Foggy kept the volume as low as possible as he dialed, crossing his legs and turning away to keep Matt from overhearing. “Hey, Karen, it’s me.”

“Foggy! Is everything alright, you seemed pretty upset.”

“It’ll be fine. Matt’s okay, he just seemed to have a rough time.”

“That doesn’t explain the security camera footage.”

Foggy noted out of the corner of his eye how Matt stiffened, in the middle of putting one leg in his pants. How could he have heard that? Foggy checked his phone volume. He set it at three out of, what, twenty? Thirty? There’s no way he could hear that from his bedroom.

“It’s fine, Karen, but I’m not sure I can get Matt in the office today. If you want to go home, that’s fine.”

“I think I’ll wait for you two, if that’s okay.”

“Sure, why not. I’ll see you soon.”

“You two be safe.”

Foggy slipped his phone into his back pocket, waiting patiently as Matt tied the strings of his pants. “How the hell did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I’ve been your friend for years. You know that. But something here isn’t adding up.” Foggy fussed with his knuckles, glancing at the items on the table. “I’ve seen you, multiple times, doing things that would make it clear that you’re blind. You can’t read what's on a computer screen and need the braille display. You need a second to make sure you know where you’re going when you stand after a long time. Hell, I found out my roommate was blind when you walked onto the wrong floor and scared the girls downstairs.”

“I may have done that on purpose.”

“Why?”

“They were staring at me.” Matt shrugged. “Whispering. So I…put my bag down on their bed and acted like I thought that’s where I was supposed to be.”

“Yeah, and then they called me down to tell you where our room—wait.” Foggy stopped. “You…they were staring at you. You knew.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“You saw the security camera footage, right?” Matt was struggling to keep his face expressionless.

“I did.”

“So. Say what you were going to say.” Matt stood in front of the couch, hands on his hips. “I’ll be fine.”

Foggy swallowed, watching those brown eyes. Eyes that he knew couldn’t see anything, no matter what the facts told him. They couldn’t even focus on him, instead seeming to stare somewhere an inch or so above his head. His best friend was certainly blind.

And yet…

“I just want an explanation. I’m sure you have one.”

“I don’t.”

“There has to be a way that someone who can’t see is able to win a fight against someone a head and shoulders taller than him. Just tell me.”

“Foggy, if you find out, then they’ll use that against you. Have you not heard them?” Matt dropped himself onto the couch next to him, turning to face his partner. “They’re saying I’m pretending to be blind to win our cases.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“And if you know how I can do this…stuff, then they’ll have more reason to believe we’re pulling a con. The cases we’ve won will go right back to court, probably snapped up by someone who only cares for the paycheck and doesn’t give a shit if the people are okay.”

“Matt. Can you see?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Are you able to use your eyes to gather information about the world around you?”

“No.”

“Great! Then you are legally blind. No lies, nothing to worry about. Explain this, please. I will make sure it isn’t used against you.”

Matt exhaled, lounging with both arms over the back of the couch. “I can’t see see. I just get…impressions of the world around me. I know what’s going on.”

“Is this because of that accident?”

He nodded numbly. “I realized after you left that the other night would’ve been the perfect time to say it, but…” He shrugged. “You were right. Every time someone in our world gets covered in radioactive gook, they get superpowers.”

“So you have superstrength?”

“No. Well, maybe a little. A tiny bit.” Matt pinched his fingers together. “It’s not like I can hold up a building. I just—strength changes depending on who you are. I have the build and routine of someone who would be a featherweight, but I can compete with light-heavies easily. It’s less superstrength and more super able-to-keep-up. I’m still better with endurance tests than that though.”

“That kind of explains how you did that. Kind of.”

“I…maybe it would be better if I showed you.” Matt turned his head slightly, tilting it like a dog trying to beg for food. “My hearing can go much farther than my sense of smell because the molecules can only travel so far. If I need to figure out something that’s far away, I can rely on the soundwaves. Like how, for example, the man who attacked me in the courthouse was hungry during the trial, and I could hear his stomach growling from across the room. Three members of the jury used the recess as a smoke break. I could smell the cigarettes in their bags and hear them fiddling with the lighters afterward.”

“Ew.” Foggy wrinkled his nose.

“My neighbors downstairs are arguing because the husband was caught drinking again. The people on the other side of the street are trying to convince their friend to watch a movie with them tonight. One of them accidentally spoiled the ending while trying to explain it—guess I won’t be watching the new Top Gun after all. The woman across the hall is worried about her dog not eating. The dog’s stomach is making squeaking noises and it hurts. I can smell her trying to make him scrambled eggs in the frying pan.”

“I thought you said smell only travels so far?”

“Air vents.”

“Isn’t smelling your neighbors through the vents invasive?”

“That’s how I knew it was you when you pulled the mask off.” Matt smiled wryly. “You have used the same sandalwood shampoo for the past ten months ever since they took the coconut version out of the grocery stores. I almost didn’t recognize you when you walked in that first day.”

“Oh.” Foggy felt himself clam up at that admission. “You seriously recognize me by smell?”

“It helps fill in the gaps that sound leaves. Sound just gives me outlines, pretty much. I can use it to find objects, but smell helps with living things. I can find out about someone’s well being too.”

“What?”

“I can smell if you have cancer. I know if you have a wound because the metal is in my nostrils. I know if you’re stressed by your sweating, or if you’re not eating well enough.”

“That sounds…overwhelming.”

“It is.” Matt rolled his neck. “I can hear everything in Hell’s Kitchen in some sort of detail. I can smell everything in any building I’m in, and if I’m outside everything in a block radius. I can taste anything in the air within a few yards of me, and most fabrics are hell on my skin.”

“That’s why you cried when I made you spicy ramen!”

“Yeah, those instant flavor packets might as well have been made out of Carolina Reapers.” He leaned his head against Foggy’s shoulder, relaxing for the first time that he’s seen. “I did like those snack cakes though.”

“The chocolate sandwich ones with the cream in the middle?”

“Yeah. Do you remember where you got those?”

“They’re gone. Health hazard, apparently.”

“What has the world come to!”

“I know, right? I can annihilate my friend’s mouth with cheap hot sauce but I can’t indulge his sweet tooth?”

Matt snickered, his breath rattling in his chest. “I can’t do all of these artificial flavors but you give me something with chocolate and I’m finished.”

“So I’ll assume you didn’t like the strawberry cake for your birthday?”

“I tried to be polite about it.”

“I appreciated the effort.” Foggy was still bothered by something he said earlier though. “So if you can do all of that, how the hell are you not experiencing sensory overload at every moment?”

“I’ve learned how to scale it down and reduce it to white noise. Meditating every morning helps me parse what I need. If I just focus on the sounds I and a few other people are making at a time, the room will illuminate itself with echolocation. I can navigate just fine with that. I didn’t know how to do it when I was a kid though, so it messed me up for a while. My dad thought I was just experiencing some grief over my vision, so he took me to a counselor that taught me how to do it.”

“But there are gaps in what you can perceive, right?” 

“Yes. I can’t see colors or shadows. I can tell if there’s something written on a paper because I can smell the graphite or ink, but I don’t know what shapes it makes. I’m completely blind when it comes to screens as well. They’re just blocks of electric buzzing to me.” Matt sighed, his breath stirring Foggy’s hair. “We should go back to the office.”

“There’s no rush. You can take your time if you need to.”

“Karen’s worried.”

“I can call her and say you don’t feel well.”

“That will worry her more.” Matt swung his legs off the couch and stood, stretching. “I hope you don’t mind waiting a few minutes while I get dressed.”

“Not at all.” Foggy stayed impassive as he turned away, but he did have to pipe up when he saw the gouges in his shoulders. “Jesus, Matt, did you get stabbed?”

Matt flinched, turning his face so Foggy could see his grimace. “Oh, right. I left out one detail.”

“What?”

“You’re going to want a drink for this.”