Well, here we are at the last part. I hope you guys aren't disappointed in this short, fluffy piece. Thank you so much for reading, following, and favouriting, especially to Astriel Storm, Circle of Fate, ComicalEpiphanies, , and LittleMissChatterbox 2009.

consultingsorcererof221B, yeah, I thought Natasha would be the one to figure out he was blind. But as for the reactions of the other Heroes ... well.

Solara Xen, thank you for such an enthusiastic review! You'll have to read on to see if Matt gets his Foggy hugs!

prepare4trouble, Foggy's coming as fast as he can! He just has to get a few things first.

Pensitivity, Foggy to the rescue indeed!

Tmk13, I love cliffhangers ... as long as it doesn't take too long to resolve them. Fortunately for you, I'm not one to torture my readers over weeks and months.

AcelinWolf, so glad you loved this.

LittleMissChatterbox 2009, no need to wait, here's the rest already.

ComicalEpiphanies, I had great fun writing the villain. I'm so glad you liked him, and the way the Hulk was trying to be helpful. He's much more than just "smash!"

Because there was nothing else going on around him, nobody attacking or restraining him, Matt had given up struggling for the moment. The sudden lack of activity had him worried, but at least it was better than being crushed by one of those giant bodyguards. He was still feeling sick from the flight, or perhaps it was from being stung, and he'd thrown up again since being forced into the cuffs. His whole abdomen pulsed with agony, and his breathing felt laboured. His captors had managed to cut through the front of his suit and pull it wide open, leaving him naked and vulnerable. They had also, without warning, had plunged a needle into his upper thigh, and he had no way of knowing what they'd injected him with. At least they'd covered him with a blanket afterwards, a blanket made of the roughest sandpaper that scoured his skin each time he moved. He tried not to move, not to draw attention to himself, but the waiting itself was torment, and he was trembling with fear. What further torture were they going to inflict upon him next? Had the sorcerer and his giant creatures captured him with the intent of experimenting on him?

But at least the pain was better than the utter panic he'd experienced when his hearing had gone. It was as though he'd lost all capability to sense anything at all, as though he were trapped in his own mind without any escape. The pain reminded him that he was still alive, that he could still feel something. He could still move, still strike out and defend himself – if only he could tell where to aim. For the moment, though, he didn't need to lash out, though he remained tense, waiting, trying to somehow sense if someone or something were getting close, if he needed to fight again.

For the first time in his life, he couldn't hear anything, not even his own voice. There was no sound at all, no voices, no whispers of cloth, no breathing, no heartbeats, nothing to give him any clues about his surroundings. He was left only with his senses of smell and touch to orient himself, but there were too many smells here, and too little to touch. Without his hearing, he couldn't classify the odours, couldn't sort them out and determine where they belonged. Well, except for one distinct scent that he knew meant a certain creature that was so much bigger and stronger than he was. He already knew what it meant when that scent got stronger and closer, the panic it had brought, and the utter panic it would bring if he ever smelled it again.

Matt tried not to panic, even without that distinctive odour. He tried to keep his terror in check by breathing in a regular rhythm, but it was hard to breathe through his nose. His lungs seemed to be demanding more oxygen, and he had to open his mouth to get it, which left him unable to track anything by scent. Wihtout warning, something touched his hand and he jerked, startled almost to the point of a heart attack. Whoever it was patted him twice, then slipped something papery underneath his hand and tried to straighten out his fingers. He curled them instinctively into a fist, tugging at the cuff that held his arm down, then heaved his upper body up and over to where he thought the person might be standing. His head collided with a piece of clothing, but the person wearing it jumped back fast enough to prevent anything more than a slight bump.

Matt sucked air through his nose as strong hands pushed him back down and held him. He had to revert to gasping through his mouth, but he'd gotten enough of the scent to realize it wasn't that particular one and he didn't have to panic. In fact, he thought one of the people around him smelled like Foggy, but that couldn't be right. Foggy couldn't be here, could he, not unless they'd captured him as well. Had they? Already cold where the blanket had slipped down to his waist, Matt shivered even more.

The person tried his hand again, forcing his index finger away from his palm. Matt resisted, straining against the grip, but he was unable to pull away. The person started to slide his finger back and forth, back and forth across the strangely bumpy paper, not letting him touch it too forcefully, but making sure he was still in contact. And then he realized. The bumps were Braille! He identified a G and a Y, then another Y and an O.

It was such a relief that he relaxed his hand, not fighting anymore. The hand holding his let go and bumped his knuckles against the back of Matt's hand. Matt sought out the rest of the message, pulling the paper down to read it from the top. Because of the restraint around his wrist, he had to keep shifting the page to get to the next word, and then down to the next line.

This is Foggy. You are safe. You are with the Avengers on their helicarrier. Don't fight them. They want to help you.

"Foggy!" he said, or hoped he did. He couldn't be sure he was making noise. Maybe he was shouting. He extended his hand as much as he could, reaching out and waving a little, and was rewarded when Foggy took his hand and squeezed it. After a moment, Foggy let go, repositioned the paper under his hand, and guided his fingers to the next line. Matt read it eagerly.

I'll squeeze your hand once for yes and twice for no. Okay?

"Okay," Matt said, and Foggy squeezed his hand once. Matt squeezed back, smiling, then felt Foggy undo the cuff around his wrist. Someone else released the cuffs from his other wrist and his ankles, and Matt sat up immediately, reaching out for his best friend.

"Foggy," he said again, and Foggy was there, hugging him back. Eventually, however, Foggy's suit coat scraped against the bee sting, and Matt gasped, then pulled back a little. Foggy pulled back even more, giving Matt's hand one big squeeze before letting go completely.

There was a long pause, or at least it seemed long to Matt, in which he couldn't tell what was going on. Eventually, however, Foggy produced another piece of paper for Matt to read.

I brought my laptop and your Braille printer from the office so we can communicate. How do you feel? Don't say everything is fine, because Black Widow can tell if you're lying. Not as good as you, but good enough. And I told her to kick your ass if you're not honest. So tell them exactly what hurts.

Smiling a little at the part about Black Widow, Matt let his left hand hover just above his swollen stomach and said, "This really hurts – it's stinging and burning. Am I talking loud enough, can you hear me?"

Foggy squeezed his right hand once.

"Am I too loud?"

Two squeezes. Matt nodded and went on. "I still feel kind of sick. I don't have any broken bones, but some of them are cracked. Ribs, mostly, and my shoulder. My head aches." Foggy gave him an encouraging series of pokes in the palm of his hand, and he sighed. "Okay, Foggy, to be honest, my whole body aches, and this blanket is really scratchy."

There was another long pause while Foggy wrote the next message and printed it out.

You're in the medical bay on a helicarrier, not in Tony Stark's penthouse. No silk sheets here. They say they've given you an antihistamine shot because you were throwing up. They can give you some other stuff, too, like a painkiller. I know, I know, I've told them you don't like them. But dude, you've pretty much lost all your senses anyway, how much worse can it get?

Matt smiled at Foggy's personality coming through the written word, and announced, "I can still smell you, Foggy. It can get worse."

The next message seemed to take forever, and while he was waiting, Matt thought to ask, "Foggy, what about the sorcerer? Did they catch him?"

They don't think a painkiller will affect your sense of smell. They want give you some steroids and other stuff because you've been vomiting, and you're starting to wheeze, if you couldn't tell. Okay, they want me to tell you they will give you a shot of epinephrine, an IV of cortisone and more antihistamine, albuterol to inhale, and oxygen. Just say yes, Matt. Apparently that bee was bigger than I am and they're worried about how much venom you've all been injected with. I'll be with you the whole time, I promise, even if you can't smell me, or you lose your sense of touch or whatever. They have the sorcerer in custody. Tony Stark is talking about certain methods of getting him to reverse the spell, which sounds like torture to me, but I don't care, because then you'll be able to hear again. But until then, dude, just let them help you, okay?

Matt had already felt his lungs tightening, and didn't hesitate. "Okay, Foggy. Yes."

The people around him must have only been waiting for the word, because they swarmed into activity as soon as Matt had spoken. They placed something to his lips, and Foggy gave him a message telling him how to inhale, so he did, and another paper telling him that they were going to transfer him to a bed. They gave him another shot, this time in the buttock, then helped him into a pair of fleecy sweat pants, cuddly enough that Matt suspected Foggy had had a stern word with them about Matt's delicate sense of touch. They didn't give him a shirt, or even a gown, keeping his chest free instead for electrodes to monitor his heart. They put a needle into a vein in his arm for the IV, laid a tube across his upper lip and guided tiny nozzles into his nostrils. They lifted the head of Matt's bed so that he was reclining instead of lying flat, then settled a sheet halfway up his chest that was only slightly less scratchy than the blanket. And all the time, Foggy was there, keeping his hand either directly on Matt's or elsewhere on his arm.

When nothing more happened, Matt sank down onto the pillow, already starting to feel woozy from the painkiller and whatever else they'd given him. He didn't like feeling woozy, but at least he could breathe easier and his stomach wasn't burning as badly. "Foggy?"

Foggy patted his arm.

"Can you get me some water?"

Foggy squeezed his hand, and after a moment, returned with another paper.

I've got a cup here with a straw. You shouldn't drink too fast. Also, we should learn Morse code so we can thump each other on the back in case this ever happens again.

"If this happens again and you thump me anywhere, Foggy, I'll still think somebody is attacking me," he said. "Morse code would be useless."

Foggy folded Matt's fingers into a loose fist and bumped his knuckles against Matt's, then guided the straw to his lips. Smiling at the gesture, Matt took measured swallows, rinsing his mouth and soothing his throat until the water was gone, then sighed in relief. Although he didn't know how long it would take for the spell to be reversed and for him to be released from his nightmare, he knew that he could bear it now, because Foggy was there.

"Foggy?" he said. "I'm just going to rest for a while now, okay?"

Foggy squeezed his hand again, pulled the sheet up to Matt's neck, then bent over and kissed Matt lightly on the forehead. Matt smiled a little, reached out to take his friend's hand, and closed his eyes.

And, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, the next time the Avengers came to his neighbourhood, he was going to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

The End