Revelations - Matt x Foggy / Daredevil

Chapter 1

Foggy's P.O.V

Yeah, I was mad at Matt. Actually, there was never a time I wasn't mad at Matt for going out in that damn suit without telling me and almost getting himself killed. It was always some breaking news story about an explosion somewhere in the ass-end of Hell's Kitchen that gave it away - even with the Hand gone and Wilson Fisk behind bars again, Matt was still hell-bent on saving this goddamn city.

It had happened again tonight. A shoot-out in a warehouse on 38th. It didn't take a genius to know Matt would be there; you wouldn't find a crime scene like this in Hell's Kitchen without Daredevil. I'd made a habit of finding my best friend bloody and unconscious in some alley in the middle of the night, dragging him back to his apartment and praying he would still be alive when we got there. I tried his cell three times before I decided he was definitely in trouble.

I followed the sound of sirens, which became louder the closer I got towards the commotion. I'd hoped that Matt had managed to find his way somewhere around here that was safe and out of the rain, but so far he was no where to be found. Swallowing hard, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and got up his GPS. There was a time when Matt turned his phone off when he went out as Daredevil, but after Midland Circle I'd told him I wasn't taking any chances. If he wanted to go out on some suicide mission then fine, on the one condition there would be a way I could find him when he needed my help.

According to the tracker, Matt was four blocks away. I pocketed my phone and picked up the pace a little, holding on tight to the duffel bag over my shoulder as I went. It was a good job I had good eyesight at least - it was hard to navigate these dark alleys late at night in this city. I turned the last corner into a side street, and to my surprise found Matt almost immediately. The red Daredevil suit wasn't exactly inconspicuous anyway, but the way the light from a low lit street lamp nearby reflected off it confirmed he hadn't managed to make it somewhere more discreet tonight after all. He was laid on his back in a shallow puddle, not moving.

"Matt?!" I exclaimed, not caring that I'd said his name so loud. I knew better than to make assumptions as to the extent of his injuries until he was out of the suit, but it never made me any less scared when I saw him like that. I dropped the duffel on the ground and fell to my knees beside him, carefully supporting his neck and taking off his mask, tossing it to the ground. His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted; his nose, judging by the blood that dribbled from it and the small bruise starting to form below his left eye, looked broken. 

I quickly checked for his pulse, which was slow but steady, and leaned in closer to his face to check his breathing. His breaths were raspy and shallow, and I was panicking now.

"Matt?" I faltered, taking one side of his face gently in one hand and shaking his shoulder a little with the other, "Hey, Matt? Come on, buddy, I need you to wake up"

I stroked my thumb gently across his cheek, avoiding the bruise as I did, and continued saying his name. He took in a long breath after a moment, choking himself back into consciousness. 

"Hey, hey" I said gently as to not overwhelm his senses, "I'm gunna get us a cab, okay?"

The fact that he didn't open his eyes or give any indication he could hear me, I wondered if he was even fully conscious. I shoved the Daredevil mask into the bag and took out Matt's black jacket. Besides keeping him warm, it would at least hide the suit from anyone who might pass us on the journey home.

"Ok, buddy, you're gunna have to help me out here" I groaned, helping him into a sitting position so I could put the jacket on him. He offered little help, and winced in pain as I helped him to his feet. I wrapped his arm around my neck and wound my own around his waist in support, as I walked him out of the alley and into an awaiting cab. I told the driver Matt's address and passed him two twenties as a way of telling him not to ask any questions. I held Matt close and paid close attention to the slow rise and fall of his chest the whole time, as if it would stop if I didn't.

When we arrived at Matt's apartment, I thanked the driver again and helped Matt get out of the car. He stood unsteady on his feet, but was helpfully conscious enough now that I didn't have to fully drag him out of the car and towards his place using just my own strength. Using my spare key, I opened the door and let us in, dropping the bag down on the floor quickly and shutting it quietly behind me. 

I struggled to get him over to the couch and set him down, heart aching as he groaned in pain. He mumbled something inaudible under his breath, using all his remaining energy to keep his head up and eyes open - not that it made a difference to his vision; he was just determined to stay conscious. 

"It's alright, Matt, it's alright - you're home now" I shushed, laying him down in an attempt to make him comfortable. I quickly started at his suit, impressed he managed to move his body in such a way that helped me take it off him. Considering how much the suit protected him, it always surprised me how easy it was to remove. 

"Foggy?" Matt mumbled, "Foggy it that you?"

His eyes moved slowly around in every direction like they did when he was confused.

"Yeah, Matt, it's me" I confirmed, finding comfort in the fact he could form coherent words. 

"Is that you?" he asked again, swallowing hard and reaching forward to touch my chest. His body became less tense as he made contact, despite the wince of pain that left his lips as he did so. It was strange that no matter how beaten up he looked - no matter how broken he was -, he still looked so beautiful. Even now, watching his eyes, it felt like I was seeing them for the first time. 

"It's me" I said again, realising I could add concussion to his list of injuries. His eyes finally settled, brows furrowed in pain now as he relaxed back into the couch. I sighed, turning my focus to his body now. I expected a broken rib or two - a few cuts and bruises here and there -, but right now my attention was all on the stab wound to the left side of his stomach. 

I fumbled around for the first aid kit I kept underneath the couch, unable to take my eyes off him. I'd had plenty of practice patching him up before, but the amount of blood he was losing right now was like nothing I'd ever seen. Hell, I was surprised he was still awake.

Cursing under my breath, I cleaned the wound and grabbed the stuff I needed to close it, trying to stop my hands shaking as I did so. I was no expert, but despite the amount of blood I hoped it wasn't deep enough to do any major internal damage. 

After a bit of time, and a lot of concentration, I finished stitching him up and taping the gauze in place over the wound. By the time I finally looked up at Matt's face, I let out a relieved sigh when I realised he had passed out again, breathing even.