Idle Commentary

"Then where the hell were you during the Battle of New York? You disappeared that whole day. I couldn't find you, I thought you'd died! Were you off beating the shit out of aliens? Huh?"

Matt sighed, dragging his hands over his face. Rain tapped quietly on the window, and he felt the heat of the billboard's light on his right. He also felt Foggy's accusing gaze. His friend had a tone to his voice Matt didn't remember ever hearing from him, somewhere between fading anger and resignation. "No."

"'No'?" Foggy was surprised this time. He paused in his pacing and sat down again. "…bullshit."

"It's not-"

"Oh, come on, Matt! I just found out that practically everything you've told me about yourself is a lie, and you just expect me to believe you weren't…" He made a few vague, anxious gestures with his hands. "Off with your super-buddies?"

"The Avengers?" Under any other circumstance, Matt would've laughed, but not this time. "Look, Foggy, if you're not going to believe me, believe the facts. They and I don't exactly run in the same social circles."

Foggy thought it over, shifting nervously. "Okay, fine, you're not Tony Stark's wingman. So, what then? You were off by yourself?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But what?"

If there was one thing Matt didn't want to relive right then, it was that day. Yet, if there was any way possible to convince Foggy that not everything about the friendship they had was false, well, he'd take that chance in a heartbeat.

Matthew Murdock walked the streets of New York, cane in hand and optimism in his heart. Landman & Zach was a thing of the past. He'd convinced his best friend, Foggy Nelson, to open a law firm together. Though it had been a few days since they'd decided to leave, since Foggy had drawn their new sign on a napkin at Josie's, and their future was unclear and uncertain, Matt was happy.

He could feel the sun on his face. People moved past him, rustles of fabric, wisps of perfume, currents of air as they passed by. Some kept their distance; that much was expected, accepted, and, on some days, appreciated.

Matt felt the change before he heard it. A change in the rhythm of the city, as people suddenly halted, staring up at the sky. The scent of panic swept over them, and from somewhere, far above, Matt Murdock heard a high-pitched whine. Machinery?

Then the screams began, the shoving, the running. Explosions all around. Complete and utter chaos. Caught up in the current, Matt ran too, cane falling from his hand as he took off.

At first, the chaos wasn't this terrible thing. There was more movement, more noise; he could easily gain a better sense of his surroundings. He dodged past rubble that was thrown from exploding buildings, dove past a support beam that fell, lifted people to their feet when they fell before him.

But the noise just kept building. Every sound was turning to thunder, every touch like a thousand needles on his skin. The world was usually simply on fire, but now it was ablaze, flames raining down around him. Matt's breath came in short gasps as he tried to keep running, staggering at one point to lean up against a half-destroyed building. Everything got so bright in his mind, so fast.

I'm not panicking, he told himself, forcing his legs to move forward. Through his jumbled senses, he managed to isolate a woman's screams from up ahead. She was cornered by something. It didn't look human, and its heartbeat was as fast as a mouse's. Clearly a threat.

But he didn't make it. The woman was dead, and the thing- he would discover later that it was a Chitauri- was gone in a flash.

Matt crouched down in front of the woman, checked her pulse, but he knew before he got to her that she wouldn't breathe again unless he did something about it. From what he could tell by running his hand lightly over the wound, it wasn't caused by any weapon he was familiar with. He raised his head, ready to call for help- maybe someone's around who has medical training, someone could still save her, should be doing CPR or something…- but the plea died on his lips. No one was around. They were all running in the opposite direction, and he couldn't blame them.

But here he was, blind and half-crazed in his own personal Hell.

Matt tried CPR. He failed. Tried again and failed. Shaking, he sat back, realizing that this woman wasn't the only one who would never again stand and laugh and live. All around him, he heard people coughing, screaming for help, breath leaving failing lungs. Fighting, in the distance, more explosions all around. Overwhelmed, he felt his chest constrict, so he squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over his ears. Now he viewed a world on fire through thick, black smoke.

Was this the war Stick was talking about? He wondered, his mind making connections where there was none. I should get up. I should fight. I was meant to fight.

But he couldn't. Not at first. When he finally got his breathing under control, he moved his hands from his ears and stood. The city was quieter. Then, around him, he heard metal and circuits and alien bodies fall from the sky, striking the ground with sickening symphony. Swallowing thickly, he stumbled on, managing to find his way out of a warzone.

People sat around, comforting the crying and injured, staring up at the sky blankly, laughing as if the world was a dangerous joke. Some cheered as heroes went by, flying down the streets like gods on winged steeds. Matt paid them no mind. He was focusing on getting home. He could do nothing at all. Nothing. Couldn't even help.

What the hell is the point of me, then?

It was late when he got to his apartment. He stumbled out of the elevator to find Foggy, sitting with his back against the door leading to his home. When he caught sight of his friend, Foggy stood, radiating worry. "Matt? Where the hell were you?! It was a warzone out there! We got freakin' invaded by aliens!" Then, he stopped short, seeing the look on Matt's face. "What happened to you? You look pretty banged up."

"I do?" Hands somewhat steady, he felt a gash on his forehead he hadn't noticed in the chaos. "I, I'm fine. Really. There was some glass flying and-"

"Oh my God, you were in the middle of that?" Foggy exclaimed, taking Matt's arm and guiding him inside the apartment. "Holy shit, Matt. You saw aliens? Sorry, heard aliens?"

"I guess." Matt's voice was tired, hollow. Foggy saw his posture slump as he sighed. "It was… just be glad you weren't there, Foggy." He paused. "You weren't, were you?"

"No, I had a thing in New Jersey. And, yeah, I'm glad I wasn't getting shot at." Foggy shut the door behind them and quickly deposited Matt on the couch. "I passed a hospital on the way that was just completely gone, so, got a first aid kit anywhere?"

"Uh, yeah. Bathroom, top shelf on the right." Matt sighed, leaning back on the couch. "You don't have to worry, though…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I bet you lost your cane, too. How do you lose, like, twenty of those per week?"

In the relative quiet of his apartment, with Foggy's voice rambling quietly as he searched the bathroom and the still-distant sirens, the fiery world began to calm.

Thank God you weren't there…

"I tried to help, but I couldn't," Matt explained quietly, the rain slowing to a stop outside his window. "I just… I should've done something. But I didn't."

He tilted his head slightly. Foggy was sitting forward, hands clasped in front of him. He was mulling over what Matt had said, conflict hanging like a cloud around him.

When the silence dragged, Matt leaned back, closing his eyes. "Are you happy?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Foggy grumbled, eyes narrowing.

Matt shrugged one shoulder, feeling more and more miserable by the minute. Well, he asked, he tried to reason. Guess the explanation wasn't good enough.

"No, I'm not happy," Foggy went on, "About any of this. I'm not happy you got hurt, for one thing. Now and before. But you just…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Matt, it isn't about whether I'm happy or not."

"Then what is it about?"

"Can you really see nothing wrong with all this?" Foggy asked, his voice raising in pitch. "You almost die on a daily basis, and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it! I didn't even know you go through this stuff! You felt helpless? Well, so do I, right now!"

Matt's hands shook slightly, his words cracking. "Of course I see something wrong! You don't think I hated lying to you? I did! I really did! And it was a mistake! This was all… sometimes I think this was all a mistake." Tears? Oh, for fuck's sake, Murdock… "Every. Single. Thing. Sometimes, I regret being who I am, and sometimes I regret not doing more. But, you know what? There's only one thing I'm actually certain about."

"Yeah?" Foggy's voice was quieter, choked. "What's that?"

"That you… That you deserved to know. And you deserved to make a choice about… everything. Being my friend, helping me, knowing about me, everything. I never even gave you a choice.

"And I'm sorry.

"I am.

"I swear, Foggy, I am.

"If you believe anything I've said, believe that."

Here's the thing; I wanted to write about what Matt was doing during the battle of New York, but I also just watched Nelson v. Murdock and couldn't get angst out of my mind. So, say this takes place during their conversation, right before the last segment shown in the episode.

Thank you.