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Matt never meant for this to happen. Of course, no one prepares for the machinations of biology misfiring, as is wont to happen with age.

But now it feels like his world is caving in, as Foggy... Foggy is sick. Sweet, sweet Foggy, who makes him text or call after Daredeviling, who might get mad, royally pissed, but always comes back just as surely as Murdocks always get up, who was there for him when Elektra and Karen died, who provided the initial capital to start their firm, who kept him alive through college, making sure he ate and slept even as Matt scorned his roomate.

And now, here was Foggy, asleep, without hide or hair of his family, just him and Matt, and the occasional nurse. And Matt couldn't do anything about it.

He heard footsteps from around the corner, then a head poked in. "Hey, Matt." Ah. Kirsten.

She gave him a once over and said, "You look like shit."

"I wouldn't know." Matt met her eyes, or as best as he could.

"Har har. You should go home. Get some sleep."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, Kirsten, I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Can't."

"Cut the bullshit Matt. You need to go to bed."

"My friend is dying! I can't sleep." Matt exploded.

Kristen's eyes softened. "It sucks. A lot. But you can't punch cancer in the face."

"I know that."

"Then stop trying to. Go home, go to sleep. I'll watch over him for tonight, call you if anything changes."

"Okay." Matt looked mournfully at Foggy, snoring as loud as his namesake.

"I'll step out. Say your goodbyes to Foggy, then go. To. Bed." Kirsten walked out, but Matt could still hear her from the hallway.

"Hey Fogs. Or bye I guess. Kristen is making me leave." Matt leaned down to whisper in Foggy's ear. "You know, you always were my favorite superhero." Matt pressed a quick kiss to Foggy's forehead. "I'll see you in a bit. Till tomorrow."