The Guilty Party
Part 6
Matt could tell that Foggy was still alive by his heartbeat, weak as it was, and his raspy breathing. He’d heard the broken bones shift, could smell the blood and feel the open wounds over too much of Foggy’s body. Worst of all, he’d heard Foggy begging for mercy, the terrible, ultimate kind of mercy, and it had shaken him to his core.
There was only one thing to do. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and commanded it to call Thor. When he’d got his new phone earlier that day, he’d debated about transferring the numbers of his three Avengers acquaintances to it, as he’d never had any intention of calling them. In the end, though, he’d finally figured it couldn’t hurt. Now it rang four times, then asked him to leave a message, and Matt wanted to break something out of desperation. Instead, he gave a new command, this time to call Clint.
“Barton,” came the live answer, and Matt exhaled in relief.
“Clint, it’s …” Matt stopped to listen. The men he’d hit were still unconscious, but it was still better to be safe. “… Daredevil. I need a favor.”
“Anything, bro! Just tell me who to shoot.”
“I need a healing stone,” Matt said. “It’s my friend, he’s been kidnapped and tortured, and it’s … pretty bad.”
Clint’s voice became instantly more serious. “Where are you? Can he be moved?”
Matt gave him the address, then said, “He’s got some broken bones, but not vertebrae. He could be moved, but they’ve … it feels like they’ve whipped him with something that ripped him open. Like bleeding from a thousand cuts.”
“Will you be okay until I can get there? Thor’s not in New York at the moment, and Tony’s out, too. I’ll have to drive to the tower to get the stone and bring it to you.”
“I think we’ll be all right for a while, at least.”
“You know anything about first aid? Treat for shock and call the doc, that sort of thing?”
“I know first aid,” Matt said, “but this is … beyond me.”
“Do what you can to keep him warm, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After he’d hung up, Matt did a quick search of the underground dance club. At first he found nothing he could use, only abandoned tables and chairs, but then he found where the three kidnappers had laid their jackets before starting the torture. He spread them out over Foggy, and then there was nothing to do but hold Foggy’s unresponsive hand and wait.
Clint finally came, after what seemed like an eternity, and when Matt peeled back the coverings to show him Foggy, he exhaled sharply. “Okay … this looks bad.”
Then he cracked the stone open and crumbled it in his hands. As he distributed the sandy particles as best he could over all the wounds, he said, “I hope this is enough, because this was the last stone in the tower.”
Matt hoped so, too, but didn’t say anything.
“Can you hear it healing, bro?” Clint asked. Matt listened, and shook his head. “No.”
“No sounds like little wet sponges hitting each other?” When Matt gave him a questioning look, Clint said, “I thought that’s what it might sound like, if you could hear the cells in your body rushing into place. Hey, let me see your leg.”
“Why?”
“You’re bleeding, and I’ve still got some dust on my hands. I can shake it over your wound. It might help.”
“No,” Matt said, stepping back. One of the men had shot at him, but the bullet had only grazed the outside of his thigh. “Use it for Foggy, every last speck.”
“Okay, bro.” Clint brushed his hands together over Foggy’s back. “There, all done. Looks pretty healed to me.”
Matt gently placed his fingers on Foggy’s leg, feeling between the ribbons of sliced cloth. The skin under his fingertips was smooth and whole, and when he gently probed Foggy’s elbow, he could no longer hear the pieces of bone moving the wrong way.
“Good stuff, huh, bro?” Clint asked. “Sorry I didn’t bring any steaks, though.”
“It’s all right.” Matt allowed himself to smile. “Thank you.”
“I hope Thor brings some more healing stones when he comes back from Asgard,” Clint says. “If you two get into trouble again before that, you’re on your own.”
Foggy’s heartbeat and breathing changed even as Matt replied, “I’ll keep a better watch on him.”
Then he touched Foggy’s shoulder. “Foggy? How’re you doing?”
Foggy sat up and Matt could hear him looking around in stunned silence until the words suddenly burst out of him. “What’s going on? Why doesn’t it hurt anymore? Why the hell am I still alive, and, oh, g-d, Matt, I told them who you were, I told them you were Daredevil!”
“It’s all right,” Matt said.
“No! It’s not all right! I betrayed you, I—“ Foggy started to sob, but tried to keep speaking anyway. “Why’d you have to rescue me, why couldn’t you just let me die!”
“Foggy, you’re my friend, of course I rescued you,” Matt said, surprised at the amount of anger he could hear. He put out one hand, aiming for Foggy’s shoulder, but Foggy pushed him away and tried to stand up. He managed two steps, then sank to his knees.
“You’ll be weak for a while, bro,” Clint told him. “I can drive you home, then you can go to bed and sleep it off.”
“What the fuck do you know about anything!” Foggy snarled. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”
“I’m Clint Barton. And I know that everybody breaks under torture sooner or later.”
“Which you know because you read it on Wikipedia?” Foggy’s voice was weaker, but still venomous; his anger was not cooling despite his exhaustion. Matt heard him put out a hand to support himself.
Clint didn’t directly answer the question. “Dude, I’ve been on the receiving end of one of Thor’s healing stones more than once, too. Sucks all the energy right out of your body and leaves you feeling like a piece of leftover pizza with all the toppings gone.”
“Healing stones?” Now there was more curiosity than rage in Foggy’s voice. Matt took it as a sign that he could move closer.
“Yeah, Foggy, remember I told you about them?” he said.
“You didn’t really explain,” Foggy mumbled. “What are they, anyway?”
“Thor brings some down from Asgard every so often,” Clint said. “They’re a kind of magic rock. You crumble them over the injuries and, shazam, they heal right up.”
“Shazam, I finally meet Hawkeye, and he dumps sand in my pants,” Foggy murmured. “And who the hell says ‘shazam’ anyway?”
Matt smiled, and reached out for Foggy’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you home. You need some sleep.”
But Foggy shook his hand off and leaned on Clint instead, which left Matt wondering what he’d done wrong, what he’d missed.
“Are they dead?” Foggy asked as he staggered towards the stairs. “I hope you killed them, Matt.”
“I didn’t kill them.” Matt shouldn’t have felt surprised at Foggy’s reaction, but he did. “Foggy, I don’t kill people, I told you that.”
“Well, you should have made an exception for them,” Foggy said, heaving himself up the first step. “Not just because they tortured me, which g-d knows should be more than enough reason, but because I told them who you are, Matt. I told them that you’re Daredevil! They know! And they could tell people!”
“They didn’t believe you,” Matt said, and Foggy stopped. After a long moment, his voice was full of tears as he asked, “You heard that?”
“That’s how I found you, Foggy, I heard you screaming my name,” Matt said.
Foggy sobbed once, then found renewed energy from somewhere and barrelled up the steps. Matt followed, and heard him get into Clint’s car, slamming the door. He pulled it open and said, “Foggy, I didn’t kill them, but they won’t be waking up again soon.”
“You should have killed them,” Foggy said, and reached to slam the door again. Matt barely got his hand away in time, and from inside the car, he heard Foggy murmur, “You should have let me die.”
“You coming with us?” Clint asked, and Matt sighed. “No. You go on, I’ll get home on my own.”
“If you ever need to talk, you have my number,” Clint offered.
“I know,” Matt said. “And thank you, for everything.”
“Fist bump?” Clint extended his knuckles, and Matt bumped them. It wasn’t the same as with Foggy, though, which made him feel even worse.
“Get some steak while you’re out,” Clint said, then got into the car and started the engine.
Matt stood there for a long time, clenching his fists as he listened to the sound of the car disappearing into the distance. He’d been more brutal on the kidnappers than he’d been on anyone else except Fisk, but he still hadn’t crossed the line of killing them outright. He wasn’t even going to call 911 for them, like he often did when he left a trail of unconscious bodies behind. In fact, he wondered if he should go down and finish them off, to make Foggy feel better, but despite it all, something in him rebelled at the thought of doing it now, in cold blood. Had he been wrong not to do it in the fight? Would Foggy be happier if he had? Would he himself be happier if he had?
Go to Part 7
There was only one thing to do. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and commanded it to call Thor. When he’d got his new phone earlier that day, he’d debated about transferring the numbers of his three Avengers acquaintances to it, as he’d never had any intention of calling them. In the end, though, he’d finally figured it couldn’t hurt. Now it rang four times, then asked him to leave a message, and Matt wanted to break something out of desperation. Instead, he gave a new command, this time to call Clint.
“Barton,” came the live answer, and Matt exhaled in relief.
“Clint, it’s …” Matt stopped to listen. The men he’d hit were still unconscious, but it was still better to be safe. “… Daredevil. I need a favor.”
“Anything, bro! Just tell me who to shoot.”
“I need a healing stone,” Matt said. “It’s my friend, he’s been kidnapped and tortured, and it’s … pretty bad.”
Clint’s voice became instantly more serious. “Where are you? Can he be moved?”
Matt gave him the address, then said, “He’s got some broken bones, but not vertebrae. He could be moved, but they’ve … it feels like they’ve whipped him with something that ripped him open. Like bleeding from a thousand cuts.”
“Will you be okay until I can get there? Thor’s not in New York at the moment, and Tony’s out, too. I’ll have to drive to the tower to get the stone and bring it to you.”
“I think we’ll be all right for a while, at least.”
“You know anything about first aid? Treat for shock and call the doc, that sort of thing?”
“I know first aid,” Matt said, “but this is … beyond me.”
“Do what you can to keep him warm, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
After he’d hung up, Matt did a quick search of the underground dance club. At first he found nothing he could use, only abandoned tables and chairs, but then he found where the three kidnappers had laid their jackets before starting the torture. He spread them out over Foggy, and then there was nothing to do but hold Foggy’s unresponsive hand and wait.
Clint finally came, after what seemed like an eternity, and when Matt peeled back the coverings to show him Foggy, he exhaled sharply. “Okay … this looks bad.”
Then he cracked the stone open and crumbled it in his hands. As he distributed the sandy particles as best he could over all the wounds, he said, “I hope this is enough, because this was the last stone in the tower.”
Matt hoped so, too, but didn’t say anything.
“Can you hear it healing, bro?” Clint asked. Matt listened, and shook his head. “No.”
“No sounds like little wet sponges hitting each other?” When Matt gave him a questioning look, Clint said, “I thought that’s what it might sound like, if you could hear the cells in your body rushing into place. Hey, let me see your leg.”
“Why?”
“You’re bleeding, and I’ve still got some dust on my hands. I can shake it over your wound. It might help.”
“No,” Matt said, stepping back. One of the men had shot at him, but the bullet had only grazed the outside of his thigh. “Use it for Foggy, every last speck.”
“Okay, bro.” Clint brushed his hands together over Foggy’s back. “There, all done. Looks pretty healed to me.”
Matt gently placed his fingers on Foggy’s leg, feeling between the ribbons of sliced cloth. The skin under his fingertips was smooth and whole, and when he gently probed Foggy’s elbow, he could no longer hear the pieces of bone moving the wrong way.
“Good stuff, huh, bro?” Clint asked. “Sorry I didn’t bring any steaks, though.”
“It’s all right.” Matt allowed himself to smile. “Thank you.”
“I hope Thor brings some more healing stones when he comes back from Asgard,” Clint says. “If you two get into trouble again before that, you’re on your own.”
Foggy’s heartbeat and breathing changed even as Matt replied, “I’ll keep a better watch on him.”
Then he touched Foggy’s shoulder. “Foggy? How’re you doing?”
Foggy sat up and Matt could hear him looking around in stunned silence until the words suddenly burst out of him. “What’s going on? Why doesn’t it hurt anymore? Why the hell am I still alive, and, oh, g-d, Matt, I told them who you were, I told them you were Daredevil!”
“It’s all right,” Matt said.
“No! It’s not all right! I betrayed you, I—“ Foggy started to sob, but tried to keep speaking anyway. “Why’d you have to rescue me, why couldn’t you just let me die!”
“Foggy, you’re my friend, of course I rescued you,” Matt said, surprised at the amount of anger he could hear. He put out one hand, aiming for Foggy’s shoulder, but Foggy pushed him away and tried to stand up. He managed two steps, then sank to his knees.
“You’ll be weak for a while, bro,” Clint told him. “I can drive you home, then you can go to bed and sleep it off.”
“What the fuck do you know about anything!” Foggy snarled. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”
“I’m Clint Barton. And I know that everybody breaks under torture sooner or later.”
“Which you know because you read it on Wikipedia?” Foggy’s voice was weaker, but still venomous; his anger was not cooling despite his exhaustion. Matt heard him put out a hand to support himself.
Clint didn’t directly answer the question. “Dude, I’ve been on the receiving end of one of Thor’s healing stones more than once, too. Sucks all the energy right out of your body and leaves you feeling like a piece of leftover pizza with all the toppings gone.”
“Healing stones?” Now there was more curiosity than rage in Foggy’s voice. Matt took it as a sign that he could move closer.
“Yeah, Foggy, remember I told you about them?” he said.
“You didn’t really explain,” Foggy mumbled. “What are they, anyway?”
“Thor brings some down from Asgard every so often,” Clint said. “They’re a kind of magic rock. You crumble them over the injuries and, shazam, they heal right up.”
“Shazam, I finally meet Hawkeye, and he dumps sand in my pants,” Foggy murmured. “And who the hell says ‘shazam’ anyway?”
Matt smiled, and reached out for Foggy’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you home. You need some sleep.”
But Foggy shook his hand off and leaned on Clint instead, which left Matt wondering what he’d done wrong, what he’d missed.
“Are they dead?” Foggy asked as he staggered towards the stairs. “I hope you killed them, Matt.”
“I didn’t kill them.” Matt shouldn’t have felt surprised at Foggy’s reaction, but he did. “Foggy, I don’t kill people, I told you that.”
“Well, you should have made an exception for them,” Foggy said, heaving himself up the first step. “Not just because they tortured me, which g-d knows should be more than enough reason, but because I told them who you are, Matt. I told them that you’re Daredevil! They know! And they could tell people!”
“They didn’t believe you,” Matt said, and Foggy stopped. After a long moment, his voice was full of tears as he asked, “You heard that?”
“That’s how I found you, Foggy, I heard you screaming my name,” Matt said.
Foggy sobbed once, then found renewed energy from somewhere and barrelled up the steps. Matt followed, and heard him get into Clint’s car, slamming the door. He pulled it open and said, “Foggy, I didn’t kill them, but they won’t be waking up again soon.”
“You should have killed them,” Foggy said, and reached to slam the door again. Matt barely got his hand away in time, and from inside the car, he heard Foggy murmur, “You should have let me die.”
“You coming with us?” Clint asked, and Matt sighed. “No. You go on, I’ll get home on my own.”
“If you ever need to talk, you have my number,” Clint offered.
“I know,” Matt said. “And thank you, for everything.”
“Fist bump?” Clint extended his knuckles, and Matt bumped them. It wasn’t the same as with Foggy, though, which made him feel even worse.
“Get some steak while you’re out,” Clint said, then got into the car and started the engine.
Matt stood there for a long time, clenching his fists as he listened to the sound of the car disappearing into the distance. He’d been more brutal on the kidnappers than he’d been on anyone else except Fisk, but he still hadn’t crossed the line of killing them outright. He wasn’t even going to call 911 for them, like he often did when he left a trail of unconscious bodies behind. In fact, he wondered if he should go down and finish them off, to make Foggy feel better, but despite it all, something in him rebelled at the thought of doing it now, in cold blood. Had he been wrong not to do it in the fight? Would Foggy be happier if he had? Would he himself be happier if he had?
Go to Part 7