Chapter Text
It all happens in the blink of an eye. The gunshot. The blood splattering on my face and the thud of Foggy's body collapsing to the ground. I can't even process my friend lying motionless on the asphalt when two more shots kill the civilians behind me. I try to reach my gun, but it feels like it disappeared into some black hole inside my damn bag.
"Hello, Karen”
I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Poindexter, back from the dead and with a gun to my head, just like a few years ago. But this time it's different. He shot Foggy and he's ready to shoot me.
Before the obvious happens, Daredevil launches himself at Poindexter and pushes him away. The smoke and screaming cloud my thoughts, but I snap back the moment I hear Foggy on the ground, struggling to breathe.
This can't be happening. Three minutes was all it took for our perfect world to fall apart.
The sounds Foggy makes when he tries to breathe are agonizing. The desperation in his eyes makes it clear how terrified he is.
"Just keep your eyes on me, okay?" I say as calmly as I can, but my desperation still leaks through. "We're gonna get you help."
Where's that damn help? Why hasn’t anyone called an ambulance?!
"Just stay awake, Foggy, keep looking at me."
Foggy's heart beats faintly beneath my fingers. My hands are on the wound, in a failed attempt to keep the blood flowing through his veins, but is slipping through my fingers instead.
"You stay with me. Just stay with me Foggy...please."
Don't leave me here alone, I think, trying to transmit my thoughts to him. Don't leave me here alone.
It's a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare.
Foggy starts to sigh and gasp more and more heavily, fighting for air, and I know the inevitable is coming. I recognize the signs of when death approaches me, not to take me away, but to tear away someone I love.
"No. No, oh my God. Please, no. No" It's excruciating to feel his heartbeat slow down until it stops completely. "Foggy please. Come on, Foggy. No. No, no, no"
The ambulance siren sounds loud but distant. It's too late now. Death already took him from me. I've already lost everything, once again.
Where is Matt? Did he hear his best friend's heart stop?
The sound of the body falling from the top of the building and crashing to the ground behind me silenced my mind.
No, it can't be. Not both. Not on the same day. Jesus Christ, I can't lose them both.
Dead. Foggy is dead and if I turn around, I'm afraid I'll find Matt dead too.
"I can't- I cant- I can't. God...God please, no"
I can't breathe. I can't move. A dead body in front of me and another behind me. It can't be. I slowly turn around, as slowly as I can, bracing for what I'm gonna find.
Please, please, don't let it be Matt. Please, I can't handle it. God, please.
But it's not Matt my eyes meet on the ground. It's Poindexter. The sigh of relief is involuntary, even though I'm not relieved at all. Adrenaline and fear course freely through my veins. But Matt is alive and that's enough for now.
I look up, not sure if I'm looking for a divine sign or a glimpse of Matt.
With great effort I spotted him on the roof of Josie's. He's clearly in pain and something like small knives have pierced his uniform. But he's alive and I get my confirmation when the Daredevil mask falls to the ground next to me.
My heart threatens to burst out of my chest, beating so loudly that it deafens me. Or maybe it's the trauma dulling my senses.
Nothing in life prepares you for death. Although it is the only certainty that any of us humans have, there is no advance warning. It arrives like a thief and steals what you hold most precious. My mother, my brother and now Foggy.
Foggy's heart was still beating when I tried to hold the blood inside his body, in an imbecilic attempt to postpone the inevitable. He was going to die, I knew it. I know death well enough to know when it's taking someone I love from me. Two brothers. It's more than anyone should have to endure in one lifetime.
The ambulance arrives and several paramedics and first responders take over the scene. The police followed soon after with investigators, photographers and forensics. They approach and I know they're going to take Foggy away.
I think about those last moments. If he could have said something, if he could have spoken, I know he would have said that he didn't want to die. The confused, pleading, frightened look Foggy gave me will haunt me until my last breath. And then, if I'm lucky enough, I'll meet him again in the afterlife. Because that's where Foggy is going. Surely the best and most beautiful of places is reserved for him. He was the best of the three of us. It's not fair that they took his life. It's just not fair.
I want to scream. I want to shake his body until he wakes up.
Tears begin to burn in my eyes and I no longer have the strength to hold them back.
Foggy, wake up, please.
"Miss Page..." a voice calls out.
I recognize Cherry's condescending tone and guess what he's going to say. They need to get the body out of here.
Body. Foggy is much more than that.
Was, I remind myself.
I try to force myself, but I can't leave him here alone. I entwine my fingers in my friend's bloody shirt and hold on. They can't take him away from me. Not yet. Not when I haven't said goodbye yet. Not when he still doesn't know how much I'm going to miss him.
Is his soul still there? Or has it already ascended to the sacred realm of heaven, as Matt believes it has?
If Matt were here, he would pray. He would say some beautiful words in honor of his late friend, something like a prayer to accompany him on his journey to the kingdom of God. But I don't know how to pray, I unlearned it a long time ago. If there is a God, why would he let Foggy be taken away so abruptly and cruelly?
I strive to believe that there is a point to it all. That there's a better place outside this hell we call life; and that's where Foggy is going. I need to believe that.
I ignore Cherry, the officers and the paramedics. They can't help anymore, they're too late. What matters now is that I'm here and I need to take care of Foggy because he didn't deserve to die like that. He deserved a peaceful death.
"You were...the best of friends," I say, running one of my hands through his hair."When I had no one, I knew I'd always have you. Foggy, I...I'm going to miss you so much."
My voice fails me and I can't finish the farewell I want so much to say to Foggy. My friend. My brother. There are too many tears. The sound of sirens echoes, forming a cacophony along with the footsteps of the police, photographers, investigators and I don't know how many other people are here.
"Miss Page, I'm sorry but you have to move away from the body now."
"It's not a body, it's my best friend!"
"Your friend isn't there anymore, Karen." Cherry tries to bring me to my senses, but I end up crying more and clinging tighter to Foggy's shirt.
"Five minutes, Cherry, please..." I hate to beg, but I need time.
"You have to let him go, Karen."
"But..."
Where's Matt? I need him here, I can't fight with these people on my own. They can't take Foggy without Matt having seen his best friend.
"He's not going to show up now," Cherry declares, but I don't understand. "Daredevil has already left the crime scene and Matt isn't around. You need to let the first responders do their job.”
Daredevil is gone? How... the realization hits me. Cherry saw Matt without the mask. He's seen everything and he's saying that Matt isn't coming. He's not here. He's left me alone again.
I take a deep breath and count to five with my eyes closed. I'm alone. Matt is gone and Foggy is dead. I have to face this reality, no matter how hard it is.
I bring my fingers to Foggy's face as I try to memorize every detail. Every curve of his cheek, the pattern of his eyebrows, the way his beard covers his face, his neatly combed hair.
I close his eyes and give my friend one last caress, kissing his forehead and with my lips I can feel that his skin is still warm, as if he isn’t dead and is just sleeping.
"See you later, Foggy," I say with conviction.
Maybe at the funeral, or in the afterlife. I don't know what I meant, but I know I'm going to see him one more time. Without blood staining his clothes. Without him lying in the middle of the street.
After what it felt like an eternity, they put Foggy in one of those black bags. I don't have any more tears to cry, but my body is shaking with shock.
The doctors examine me on the street. They check my vital signs, look for injuries and give me something in my vein to calm me down.
Cherry sits next to me in the ambulance and I have to suppress the urge to send him away. I don't want to talk.
"The paramedics need someone to come and get you. They're not going to release you on their own."
"I'm fine," I say
"I doubt it. You've got a fair amount of tranquilizer running through your veins now, young lady, and even so…no one should drive home alone after seeing their best friend shot." he emphasizes, making it clear that there is no negotiation.
I laugh mockingly, wiping my nose on my sleeve.
"I've been worse, believe me."
"I don't doubt it. But it's against protocol, so they need to call someone. Do you have someone who can pick you up and take you home?"
It's a funny question considering that Cherry knows very well that of the two people who are always with me, one died and the other disappeared for some reason that is still unknown to me.
I give him my most skeptical look and laugh. God, I just want to wake up from this nightmare.
"You only had them?" Cherry asks and the pity in her voice infuriates me a little. I hate being pitied.
"No." I reply, not caring to give too much detail. "I have...other people."
"Then call them to come and pick you up."
In other circumstances, that would be out of the question. And I don't even want to think about what will happen if he gets an emergency call saying that I need help.
"Can I have my phone?" I try to sound friendly, but I sound more like the rebellious and disinterested Karen from years ago.
Cherry ignores my insolence and gets up, returning with my phone a few minutes later.
I stare at the screen. I don't want to hear his voice... I can't bear to hear the worry. I spent years saying that I could take care of myself, that he was exaggerating, that I didn't need to be protected. And now here I am. Needing him to come and get me out of this mess.
I dial the number and wait for the answer on the line. Every call is a little torment. What if he doesn't pick up?
"Hey...are you okay?"
As soon as Frank's voice sounds on the other end of the line, my emotions threaten to collapse. From the hoarseness in his voice, I don't know if I've disturbed his sleep or if he was just shouting at David about a soccer match.
"Hey, uhm...am I bothering you?" I ask a bit unsure.
This thing between Frank and me is still an unexplored zone. I know I can call him when I need him, just as I know he'll do anything to help me. But it is usually to help with cases, investigations... help with personal things is new territory.
"Of course not. What happened?"
Foggy died, Matt abandoned me and now you're the only person in my world.
"I need a ride." I choose to simplify the whole situation.
On the other side of the line, I hear Frank hesitate at the unexpected request. These are uncharted waters for both of us.
"Tell me where you are and I'll pick you up."
"Josie's. But... stop the car a bit before the entrance, things are..." I stop to swallow my tears. What should I say? "Chaotic."
"Chaotic?" Frank retorts.
"Please, just...just come." I beg, letting the tiredness show in my voice. I just want to get out of here.
"Okay. I'm on my way."
"Thanks."
I hang up before I hear his reply.
"Who was that? A friend? A cousin?"
There's no easy way to explain to Cherry that my emergency contact is the fucking Punisher. Especially because of all the questions and judgments that arise when they find out that Frank and I are close.
"A friend...yeah"
Friend seem too little to represent my connection with Frank, but it's the best I can do at the moment.
The next few minutes pass in complete silence between Cherry and I. The area is now cleaner and calmer. The ambulances have left and Foggy's body has been taken away. Did Matt follow the ambulance? Will he find a way to get into the autopsy room to say goodbye? I try to find some comfort in the idea of Matt still around and that he'll get in touch with me tomorrow.
An eternity later, but it must have been fifteen minutes, I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.
"My ride's here, I have to go. We'll talk later, I guess." I say goodbye and don't even give Cherry a chance to do the same.
I have to walk for a while before I reach the place where Frank parked his car, far from the isolated area where the crime took place. As soon as he sees me, he gets out of the car in despair. I'm still covered in blood.
"What the fu-"
He interrupts as soon as I throw myself at him, tucking my face into his chest, immediately feeling his strong arms wrap around me.
Frank rests his lips on the top of my head, trying to comfort me. At least he's here and I'm not alone.
"I'll be fine." I say, trying not only to convince Frank, but also myself. "I'll be fine."
"Is this blood yours?" Frank asks, obviously containing his anger, when in fact he wants to know if anyone has hurt me.
"No. No it isn't."
"Okay" he squeezes me a little tighter, as if to make sure I'm okay and I'm really there. "Let's get you out of here."
When the car doors are closed, neither of us says anything. Luke Bryan's "Drink a Beer" plays softly on the radio, filling the silence.
"Foggy died." I clarify for him, realizing it's the first time I've admitted it out loud. "That's his blood."
"Shit." is all Frank replies as he’s processing the information.
I let out a humorless laugh. Yeah, shitty situation indeed.
"It's uhm..a good word to describe it all."
"Karen, I'm-"
"Very sorry?"
"No, I'm..." Frank doesn't complete the sentence. I don't know if it's because he's not good with words, or because he knows that nothing he can say will ease the pain crushing my chest.
But he looks at me. Right into my eyes, seeing right through me. I love and hate the way Frank seems to access a piece of my soul that I try to keep under lock and key, but with him it's impossible. It always has been. This urge to tell him everything, to talk to him, to share my pain and other things that I don't share with anyone else
I know he sees everything, but it's more than that. Frank understands. The feeling, the pain, the loss, the grief. And I understand too; when he simply holds my hand instead of wasting time searching for words to describe the indescribable.
"I don't want to be alone," I confess.
I can take care of myself, I can cope with grief on my own, I've done it once and I can do it again. But I don't want to. For some reason beyond my comprehension, I want Frank here. I want him to be around while I rest. I want him to shoot anyone who bothers me. I want to feel his arms holding me while I cry.
"Please."
Frank puts his big, warm hand on my cheek and I'm not strong enough to deny the comfort of the gesture. I let my face sink into his touch, closing my eyes as his thumb strokes my skin and wipes away a few stubborn tears that I let escape.
"Okay." That's all Frank replies.
The familiarity of the moment is enough to make me give a small, shy but sincere smile.
"Okay." I reply
"Okay."
Before I know it, he's pulling me into a hug and at the same time I bury my face into the crook of his neck, letting the familiar smell of soap and coffee comfort me. I'm not alone