The Nelson Shot
Part 5
I“You were …
pretty out of it for a while,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “What’s
the last thing you remember?”
Matt
thought for a moment, sorting through various disconnected memories for the
most relevant one. “They hit me with a jack.”
“A jack? A carjack?” Foggy asked.
“I think I would have noticed if you’d been hit in the head with a carjack,” Claire said. “And I checked, believe me.”
“Not a carjack, a jack. Like those children’s toys? When I was a kid, a girl on my street had some that she got from her grandmother. You were supposed to bounce a ball, then pick up one, then two, then three, and so on.”
“Oh, jacks!” Claire exclaimed, relieved that Matt wasn’t as confused as he’d sounded. “I always just used to twirl mine.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Foggy said. “See how many I could get going before the first one ran down. But Matt, those things are dull as shit, they couldn’t hurt anyone, which, by the way, I know from personal experience because my brother used to shoot them at me with his slingshot whenever my sister wanted to play with them.”
“The one that hit me had been sharpened,” Matt remembered. “All those little bars, as sharp as needles, so that it would hit no matter how it landed.”
“Like caltrops,” Foggy murmured. “Nasty.”
“It was a trap; they wanted me alive. They used something to shoot a whole swarm of them at me, a little cannon or a rocket launcher maybe. I didn’t get out of the way of all of them.”
“And I’ll just bet they were all soaked in some kind of drug,” Claire said. “Thank God they didn’t all hit you, you were loopy enough from just one. You were singing.”
“Matt was singing?” Foggy sounded delightedly surprised. “Matt never sings!”
And there was a good reason for that, which Matt didn’t want to admit. Hastily, he tried to change the subject. “I think I fell over a dog and it tried to bite me.”
“Oh, Matt, please, not the dog again,” Foggy moaned. “You’ve been talking about it all night. I kicked a dog, I kicked a dog, I’m going to hell because I kicked a dog! But do you worry about going to hell because you hit your best friends in the face, no, it’s all about the damned – oh.“
Many clues clicked suddenly into place even before Foggy ended his rant with a sheepish sound, and Matt’s heart suddenly hurt worse than any wound.
“Claire? I hit you in the face? I—I broke your nose?”
“Yeah, Matt,” she admitted softly. “You broke my nose.”
“Foggy?” Matt wasn’t even sure he wanted to find out what he’d done to his best friend, but on the other hand, he had to know.
“Just a black eye, man, nothing permanent.” Foggy was forcing his voice to sound light and unconcerned, which made Matt feel even more miserable.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Claire, Foggy, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Claire said, and then she walked around to the other side of the bed and picked up something from near his knee. “So that’s why we tied you up, but now I guess we can let you go.”
He heard a soft snip and some of the pressure on his wrist fell away. “No!” he cried, suddenly panicking. “What if I – what if I’m still under the influence, what if I hurt you again? You should – you should leave me like this until you know for certain.”
Claire and Foggy were both silent, and Matt could imagine them looking at each other. Quickly, he went on, “The dog, remember the dog? I only wanted to push it away, but I kicked it! I could have killed it! What if I just want to touch you but I end up hitting you again? What if I hurt you worse?”
Foggy’s heartbeat speeded up, but Claire’s remained calm. “I think it’s worn off by now, Matt,” she said. “You’re not singing, you’re not slurring your words, you make sense when you speak, and you know who we are. It’s my medical opinion that it’s safe to untie you.”
“But you can stay there if you really want,” Foggy put in, though Matt definitely heard a touch of hope in Foggy’s voice.
“How about a compromise where we observe you for a while?” Claire suggested. “If you’re still coherent and not violent in, say, an hour, then we’ll let you up, all right?”
Matt turned his head to where Foggy was still standing by the door. “Foggy? Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” Foggy said, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Sure. One hour.”
And Matt could also hear the relief in his voice when Foggy teased, “Matt, you’re such a masochist.”
It was such an old, well-worn insult that it wasn’t even an insult anymore, just a declaration designed to get Matt to smile. But this time, Matt didn’t feel like smiling. Foggy had been afraid of him! Even if it was just for a moment, even if he’d got over it relatively quickly, he’d still felt fear where Matt was concerned. Tears stung his eyes; he wished he still had his mask on.
“I’m really sorry, Foggy. I never –“ His voice broke. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, sounded so cliché, like an abusive boyfriend who’d always done it and would always do it again. But he’d never done it before, never hurt Foggy physically, anyway, though he remembered how Foggy had found out about his vigilante activities and how hurt he’d been then. That hadn’t been deliberate, either, but all the same, it had still been devastating for his friend.
“Matt,” said Claire, breaking into his thoughts. “Matt, it’s all right, it was an accident, it wasn’t your fault.”
“If I hadn’t –“ he choked out, but again, words failed him. If I hadn’t gone out. If only I’d gotten out of the way faster. If only I’d never started this vigilante-thing in the first place.
“Do you want some water?” Claire asked. Matt shook his head, his throat too tight to speak, but Claire told Foggy to get him some anyway. “You’ve been losing blood, Matt, you need to drink.”
And then, as Foggy went away to the kitchen, Claire moved, and Matt heard another soft snip.
“Close your eyes,” she said, and when he’d done so, she leaned over and wiped his tears with a piece of gauze.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” she said. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”
He wanted to turn his head away, to tell her not to be nice to him, not after he’d broken her nose, but he couldn’t. When she’d finished with his face, she sat down on the chair and took his hand in hers, and he wasn’t able to pull away then, either.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I was trying to treat this junkie in the ER?” she said. “He kicked me in the hip, sent me halfway across the room! I had a bruise there for weeks. And yeah, it hurt. But you know what? It healed, and so will this.”
Her soft tone and forgiving words were enough to make him start crying again. This time, he did turn away, using Foggy’s return as an excuse, but Claire reached over and blotted his tears a second time. Then she took the glass from Foggy with one hand, and supported his head with the other one. “Come on, have a drink.”
“If you’re going to be doing this more often, you really need some bendy straws,” Foggy told him when he’d finished. “I should buy you a pack.”
“I won’t be doing this more often,” Matt vowed. “I don’t need bendy straws.”
But Foggy’s offer had revealed that he was practically expecting Matt to get into a similar situation at some point in the future, hurting his friends instead of his enemies, and the realization hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that Claire hadn’t seen the newest batch of tears .
“A jack? A carjack?” Foggy asked.
“I think I would have noticed if you’d been hit in the head with a carjack,” Claire said. “And I checked, believe me.”
“Not a carjack, a jack. Like those children’s toys? When I was a kid, a girl on my street had some that she got from her grandmother. You were supposed to bounce a ball, then pick up one, then two, then three, and so on.”
“Oh, jacks!” Claire exclaimed, relieved that Matt wasn’t as confused as he’d sounded. “I always just used to twirl mine.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Foggy said. “See how many I could get going before the first one ran down. But Matt, those things are dull as shit, they couldn’t hurt anyone, which, by the way, I know from personal experience because my brother used to shoot them at me with his slingshot whenever my sister wanted to play with them.”
“The one that hit me had been sharpened,” Matt remembered. “All those little bars, as sharp as needles, so that it would hit no matter how it landed.”
“Like caltrops,” Foggy murmured. “Nasty.”
“It was a trap; they wanted me alive. They used something to shoot a whole swarm of them at me, a little cannon or a rocket launcher maybe. I didn’t get out of the way of all of them.”
“And I’ll just bet they were all soaked in some kind of drug,” Claire said. “Thank God they didn’t all hit you, you were loopy enough from just one. You were singing.”
“Matt was singing?” Foggy sounded delightedly surprised. “Matt never sings!”
And there was a good reason for that, which Matt didn’t want to admit. Hastily, he tried to change the subject. “I think I fell over a dog and it tried to bite me.”
“Oh, Matt, please, not the dog again,” Foggy moaned. “You’ve been talking about it all night. I kicked a dog, I kicked a dog, I’m going to hell because I kicked a dog! But do you worry about going to hell because you hit your best friends in the face, no, it’s all about the damned – oh.“
Many clues clicked suddenly into place even before Foggy ended his rant with a sheepish sound, and Matt’s heart suddenly hurt worse than any wound.
“Claire? I hit you in the face? I—I broke your nose?”
“Yeah, Matt,” she admitted softly. “You broke my nose.”
“Foggy?” Matt wasn’t even sure he wanted to find out what he’d done to his best friend, but on the other hand, he had to know.
“Just a black eye, man, nothing permanent.” Foggy was forcing his voice to sound light and unconcerned, which made Matt feel even more miserable.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Claire, Foggy, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Claire said, and then she walked around to the other side of the bed and picked up something from near his knee. “So that’s why we tied you up, but now I guess we can let you go.”
He heard a soft snip and some of the pressure on his wrist fell away. “No!” he cried, suddenly panicking. “What if I – what if I’m still under the influence, what if I hurt you again? You should – you should leave me like this until you know for certain.”
Claire and Foggy were both silent, and Matt could imagine them looking at each other. Quickly, he went on, “The dog, remember the dog? I only wanted to push it away, but I kicked it! I could have killed it! What if I just want to touch you but I end up hitting you again? What if I hurt you worse?”
Foggy’s heartbeat speeded up, but Claire’s remained calm. “I think it’s worn off by now, Matt,” she said. “You’re not singing, you’re not slurring your words, you make sense when you speak, and you know who we are. It’s my medical opinion that it’s safe to untie you.”
“But you can stay there if you really want,” Foggy put in, though Matt definitely heard a touch of hope in Foggy’s voice.
“How about a compromise where we observe you for a while?” Claire suggested. “If you’re still coherent and not violent in, say, an hour, then we’ll let you up, all right?”
Matt turned his head to where Foggy was still standing by the door. “Foggy? Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” Foggy said, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Sure. One hour.”
And Matt could also hear the relief in his voice when Foggy teased, “Matt, you’re such a masochist.”
It was such an old, well-worn insult that it wasn’t even an insult anymore, just a declaration designed to get Matt to smile. But this time, Matt didn’t feel like smiling. Foggy had been afraid of him! Even if it was just for a moment, even if he’d got over it relatively quickly, he’d still felt fear where Matt was concerned. Tears stung his eyes; he wished he still had his mask on.
“I’m really sorry, Foggy. I never –“ His voice broke. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you, sounded so cliché, like an abusive boyfriend who’d always done it and would always do it again. But he’d never done it before, never hurt Foggy physically, anyway, though he remembered how Foggy had found out about his vigilante activities and how hurt he’d been then. That hadn’t been deliberate, either, but all the same, it had still been devastating for his friend.
“Matt,” said Claire, breaking into his thoughts. “Matt, it’s all right, it was an accident, it wasn’t your fault.”
“If I hadn’t –“ he choked out, but again, words failed him. If I hadn’t gone out. If only I’d gotten out of the way faster. If only I’d never started this vigilante-thing in the first place.
“Do you want some water?” Claire asked. Matt shook his head, his throat too tight to speak, but Claire told Foggy to get him some anyway. “You’ve been losing blood, Matt, you need to drink.”
And then, as Foggy went away to the kitchen, Claire moved, and Matt heard another soft snip.
“Close your eyes,” she said, and when he’d done so, she leaned over and wiped his tears with a piece of gauze.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” she said. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”
He wanted to turn his head away, to tell her not to be nice to him, not after he’d broken her nose, but he couldn’t. When she’d finished with his face, she sat down on the chair and took his hand in hers, and he wasn’t able to pull away then, either.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I was trying to treat this junkie in the ER?” she said. “He kicked me in the hip, sent me halfway across the room! I had a bruise there for weeks. And yeah, it hurt. But you know what? It healed, and so will this.”
Her soft tone and forgiving words were enough to make him start crying again. This time, he did turn away, using Foggy’s return as an excuse, but Claire reached over and blotted his tears a second time. Then she took the glass from Foggy with one hand, and supported his head with the other one. “Come on, have a drink.”
“If you’re going to be doing this more often, you really need some bendy straws,” Foggy told him when he’d finished. “I should buy you a pack.”
“I won’t be doing this more often,” Matt vowed. “I don’t need bendy straws.”
But Foggy’s offer had revealed that he was practically expecting Matt to get into a similar situation at some point in the future, hurting his friends instead of his enemies, and the realization hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that Claire hadn’t seen the newest batch of tears .