The Guilty Party
Part 8
They walked to the office. Foggy spent most of his time glancing around, comparing the present to what he remembered, and Matt was glad that they weren’t going through certain other parts of the neighbourhood. Halfway there, though, Foggy said, “Hey, Matt, why are you limping?”
“I, uh, slipped on the stairs and twisted my knee a little,” he said, making an effort to walk normally again. “No big deal.”
“Are you sure you should be walking on that? Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“It’s fine. I’ll rest it over the weekend.” When he wasn’t out saving his city.
“Has that coffee shop always been there?”
Matt sniffed the coffee-rich air and tried to remember when he’d first smelled it. “A year or two, I think.”
“What’s a Daredevil Latte?”
Mat froze inwardly. “A what?”
“All new, the Daredevil Latte,” Foggy read out. “Devilishly Spicy. Daringly Delicious.”
“Never heard of it,” Matt said, groaning silently at the idea.
“Sounds a bit like … cinnamon, don’t you think? Or tobasco sauce?”
“Tobasco sauce and coffee?” The thought made Matt want to gag.
“Sounded devilishly spicy to me.”
“But not daringly delicious.”
Foggy laughed, and they crossed the street.
“Just right up there,” Matt started to say, but Foggy had already seen it, and jogged ahead. “Hey, there it is! Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law.”
Matt couldn’t help smiling as proudly as the first time he’d come into contact with the sign.
“Well, come on, show me to our office.” Foggy sounded proud, too.
“Up the stairs,” Matt said, opening the door. “Just … don’t expect too much.”
As soon as they came into the office, Karen stood up from behind her desk. “Foggy?”
“Um, hi,” said Foggy, then turned his head. “Matt, you didn’t tell me we had a secretary?”
“I’m Karen Page,” she said, sounding stiltedly formal, but then her voice went back to normal. “This is kinda weird, you know?”
“You’re telling me?”
“Do you have any idea what caused it?” she went on.
“Nope,” Foggy replied, and a beat later, Matt hastily added, “No.”
“Can I – can I just give you a hug? Because you kinda look like you need one.”
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy replied, a pleased chuckle in his voice, but Matt could sense how hesitantly he embraced her. Then Karen let go and went back to her desk. “I brought you a chocolate croissant.”
“Wow, and Matt told me not to expect too much,” Foggy said. A paper bag crinkled, and Foggy added, “But do you mind if I eat this later? I’m still full from the two steaks and the baked potato that Matt brought me for breakfast.”
“Steaks?” Karen asked, and Matt could almost hear her forehead wrinkling. “Baked potato? For breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, searching frantically for any excuse, no matter how lame. “It kind of felt like a steak day.”
“It did?” Foggy asked. “Because I noticed you didn’t have one.”
“I’d already eaten,” Matt said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “So, Karen, what’s our schedule for to-day?”
“Okay, an appointment with a Mr Johnson at ten and lunch at twelve thirty. Looks like we get an early weekend, again.”
“Have we met this Mr Johnson before?”
“No.”
“Okay. Foggy, I’m going to introduce you as my intern, Mr … Franklin. Just sit there and take notes, and if you have any questions, ask me privately, afterwards, all right?”
“Sure,” Foggy said again. “Hey, do you mind if I sit down in my office and, uh, catch up on case files or something until then?”
Matt grinned at the way Foggy emphasized “my office” and said, “Go ahead.”
He was glad that Foggy was in the other room, because he’d barely entered his own office when his phone started to chirp. “Hawkeye. Hawkeye. Hawkeye.”
Shutting the door, Matt pulled his phone from his pocket, and Clint asked, “Has he snapped out of it yet?”
“No,” Matt answered. “Should he have?”
“Bruce said it was a possibility,” Clint said.
“Bruce?” Matt asked, his voice sharper than he’d wanted it to be. “Bruce Banner?”
“He’s not just the Hulk, bro,” Clint said, sounding defensive. “You’re blind, Matt, but you’ve got other abilities, and so has he. He’s not such a bad guy once you get to know him.”
“Okay,” Matt said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just … all that destruction.”
“It was not Bruce’s fault.” Clint’s tone was becoming increasingly hostile. “And the Hulk helped save New York from the Chitauri.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt said again. “I guess I never thought of the man behind the …” He almost said “mask”, and hastily substituted, “Hulk. I should have known better. I know how much I hate it when people only see me as that blind guy, and never get to know the real me.”
“Okay,” Clint said. “Okay. So, you want to hear what he said? Cause he’s got a bit of experience in waking up and not remembering what happened. He’s usually pretty devastated when he finds out what the Hulk has been doing.”
“Yes, I’d like to hear what he said,” Matt said, humbled. “Please.”
“He said that sometimes these episodes only last a short time, an hour or two, and sometimes they last longer. How’s he doing otherwise? Does he seem depressed or agitated?”
“No, not that I could tell. He seems pretty normal, all things considered.”
“Okay, some people get really anxious about it, other people act like they don’t care. But that could change,” Clint said. “He might suddenly get angry, or sad, and not even know why.”
“I’ll watch for that,” Matt said. “Anything else? Anything I should be doing, or not doing?”
“Don’t try to force him to remember. And don’t make him feel bad about not remembering. Protect him if he looks like he’s going to hurt himself. Treat him normally, remember he’s still a person and not just a headcase. Bruce said it’s especially important that you don’t let him think he’s useless, or he might think about suicide.”
Matt made a sound of protest, thinking that Foggy was the last person on earth who would ever think of suicide, but Clint went on. “People get down when they think they’re … broken. So let him – hell, make him do whatever he can, and help him do whatever he can’t. Basically, just be there for him. He needs friends more than anything else. Oh, and Bruce said if it continues for more than a day or two, you might want to think about getting him into treatment.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Matt said slowly. “What am I supposed to tell the doctors? That he was tortured, even though he doesn’t have a mark on him, because he knows who Daredevil is?”
“There are plenty of kinds of torture that don’t leave marks.” Clint was silent for a moment, which had the effect of making Matt’s skin crawl, then remarked, “Aww, bro, you’ll have plenty of time to come up with a good story. If you do go to a psychiatrist, your friend’ll probably be on a waiting list until he’s as old as Thor. Everybody in New York wants counseling after the battle.”
Matt chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Anything else?”
“When Thor gets back, I’ll ask him if this is a side effect from the healing stone. And don’t hesitate to call if you need any help, with anything.”
“I might just take you up on that,” Matt said. “Thanks, Clint, you’ve been a big help.”
Go to Part 9
“I, uh, slipped on the stairs and twisted my knee a little,” he said, making an effort to walk normally again. “No big deal.”
“Are you sure you should be walking on that? Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“It’s fine. I’ll rest it over the weekend.” When he wasn’t out saving his city.
“Has that coffee shop always been there?”
Matt sniffed the coffee-rich air and tried to remember when he’d first smelled it. “A year or two, I think.”
“What’s a Daredevil Latte?”
Mat froze inwardly. “A what?”
“All new, the Daredevil Latte,” Foggy read out. “Devilishly Spicy. Daringly Delicious.”
“Never heard of it,” Matt said, groaning silently at the idea.
“Sounds a bit like … cinnamon, don’t you think? Or tobasco sauce?”
“Tobasco sauce and coffee?” The thought made Matt want to gag.
“Sounded devilishly spicy to me.”
“But not daringly delicious.”
Foggy laughed, and they crossed the street.
“Just right up there,” Matt started to say, but Foggy had already seen it, and jogged ahead. “Hey, there it is! Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law.”
Matt couldn’t help smiling as proudly as the first time he’d come into contact with the sign.
“Well, come on, show me to our office.” Foggy sounded proud, too.
“Up the stairs,” Matt said, opening the door. “Just … don’t expect too much.”
As soon as they came into the office, Karen stood up from behind her desk. “Foggy?”
“Um, hi,” said Foggy, then turned his head. “Matt, you didn’t tell me we had a secretary?”
“I’m Karen Page,” she said, sounding stiltedly formal, but then her voice went back to normal. “This is kinda weird, you know?”
“You’re telling me?”
“Do you have any idea what caused it?” she went on.
“Nope,” Foggy replied, and a beat later, Matt hastily added, “No.”
“Can I – can I just give you a hug? Because you kinda look like you need one.”
“Yeah, sure,” Foggy replied, a pleased chuckle in his voice, but Matt could sense how hesitantly he embraced her. Then Karen let go and went back to her desk. “I brought you a chocolate croissant.”
“Wow, and Matt told me not to expect too much,” Foggy said. A paper bag crinkled, and Foggy added, “But do you mind if I eat this later? I’m still full from the two steaks and the baked potato that Matt brought me for breakfast.”
“Steaks?” Karen asked, and Matt could almost hear her forehead wrinkling. “Baked potato? For breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, searching frantically for any excuse, no matter how lame. “It kind of felt like a steak day.”
“It did?” Foggy asked. “Because I noticed you didn’t have one.”
“I’d already eaten,” Matt said, which wasn’t a complete lie. “So, Karen, what’s our schedule for to-day?”
“Okay, an appointment with a Mr Johnson at ten and lunch at twelve thirty. Looks like we get an early weekend, again.”
“Have we met this Mr Johnson before?”
“No.”
“Okay. Foggy, I’m going to introduce you as my intern, Mr … Franklin. Just sit there and take notes, and if you have any questions, ask me privately, afterwards, all right?”
“Sure,” Foggy said again. “Hey, do you mind if I sit down in my office and, uh, catch up on case files or something until then?”
Matt grinned at the way Foggy emphasized “my office” and said, “Go ahead.”
He was glad that Foggy was in the other room, because he’d barely entered his own office when his phone started to chirp. “Hawkeye. Hawkeye. Hawkeye.”
Shutting the door, Matt pulled his phone from his pocket, and Clint asked, “Has he snapped out of it yet?”
“No,” Matt answered. “Should he have?”
“Bruce said it was a possibility,” Clint said.
“Bruce?” Matt asked, his voice sharper than he’d wanted it to be. “Bruce Banner?”
“He’s not just the Hulk, bro,” Clint said, sounding defensive. “You’re blind, Matt, but you’ve got other abilities, and so has he. He’s not such a bad guy once you get to know him.”
“Okay,” Matt said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just … all that destruction.”
“It was not Bruce’s fault.” Clint’s tone was becoming increasingly hostile. “And the Hulk helped save New York from the Chitauri.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt said again. “I guess I never thought of the man behind the …” He almost said “mask”, and hastily substituted, “Hulk. I should have known better. I know how much I hate it when people only see me as that blind guy, and never get to know the real me.”
“Okay,” Clint said. “Okay. So, you want to hear what he said? Cause he’s got a bit of experience in waking up and not remembering what happened. He’s usually pretty devastated when he finds out what the Hulk has been doing.”
“Yes, I’d like to hear what he said,” Matt said, humbled. “Please.”
“He said that sometimes these episodes only last a short time, an hour or two, and sometimes they last longer. How’s he doing otherwise? Does he seem depressed or agitated?”
“No, not that I could tell. He seems pretty normal, all things considered.”
“Okay, some people get really anxious about it, other people act like they don’t care. But that could change,” Clint said. “He might suddenly get angry, or sad, and not even know why.”
“I’ll watch for that,” Matt said. “Anything else? Anything I should be doing, or not doing?”
“Don’t try to force him to remember. And don’t make him feel bad about not remembering. Protect him if he looks like he’s going to hurt himself. Treat him normally, remember he’s still a person and not just a headcase. Bruce said it’s especially important that you don’t let him think he’s useless, or he might think about suicide.”
Matt made a sound of protest, thinking that Foggy was the last person on earth who would ever think of suicide, but Clint went on. “People get down when they think they’re … broken. So let him – hell, make him do whatever he can, and help him do whatever he can’t. Basically, just be there for him. He needs friends more than anything else. Oh, and Bruce said if it continues for more than a day or two, you might want to think about getting him into treatment.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Matt said slowly. “What am I supposed to tell the doctors? That he was tortured, even though he doesn’t have a mark on him, because he knows who Daredevil is?”
“There are plenty of kinds of torture that don’t leave marks.” Clint was silent for a moment, which had the effect of making Matt’s skin crawl, then remarked, “Aww, bro, you’ll have plenty of time to come up with a good story. If you do go to a psychiatrist, your friend’ll probably be on a waiting list until he’s as old as Thor. Everybody in New York wants counseling after the battle.”
Matt chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Anything else?”
“When Thor gets back, I’ll ask him if this is a side effect from the healing stone. And don’t hesitate to call if you need any help, with anything.”
“I might just take you up on that,” Matt said. “Thanks, Clint, you’ve been a big help.”
Go to Part 9