Chapter Seven

Matt was padding back from the kitchen with a glass of water in hand when he heard Karen coming down the hall toward his door. He'd spent most of the day lying on the sofa with nothing to do but rest and generally wallow in misery. He hadn't been able to come up with anything useful to do. He hadn't even cared enough to change out of the clothes Father Lantom had given him, despite their smell. He hadn't showered though, so that wasn't helping.

Karen knocked on the door and waited for several seconds. She knew him too well though because she immediately knocked again and called, "Matt? You home?"

Matt sighed. He set his cup down on the sofa table, picked up his glasses, and shuffled toward the door. He pulled it open and tried to appear normal. "Hey," he said, and it sounded tired even to his ears.

"Matt?"

He cocked his head to the side. "What is it?"

"You umm…"

"What?"

"Never really pegged you for a Captain America fan."

Matt cocked his head to the side in confusion. "I don't-"

"Your shirt."

Matt tilted his head down, but of course he couldn't see anything. He ran his hand over the plasticized logo on the front. "I, uh… borrowed it." Apparently Father Lantom had a sense of humor. "Come in," he said, too tired to remain standing in the doorway. She was lucky he'd already been standing or he might have just left her knocking until she gave up and left. He tried to walk more normally, but he headed straight for the sofa and sat down, grabbing his glass of water on the way. His hip and side sent loud distress signals to his concussed brain, but he tried to cover it all for Karen's sake.

"You look like crap," Karen said.

"Yeah, well… Been a lousy couple of days."

"At least you're not drinking again," she commented. "Unless that's vodka."

"Just water," he replied with a tiny smirk.

"Where did you go yesterday?"

Matt sighed. "I decided to do some work. After Ben… I had to do something to keep busy."

"Yeah," she said, nodding in understanding. "I get it. You know… you didn't have to leave."

"You and Foggy knew Ben better than I did. You two needed…" Matt pursed his lips. "With what's going on with Foggy, I was just making things worse. You didn't need to deal with that, too, so…"

"It'll never get better until you two talk. It's as good a reason as any. Maybe better."

Matt gave her a smile, although he couldn't make a real effort. "We'll see." At the moment, all he could remember was Foggy's disdain-filled, "I think you've done enough."

Karen shook her head as if she despaired of the two men ever getting their acts together, then she frowned. "Wait a minute. You worked? The only client we have is Mr. Thomas."

"I went to see his wife, Francine."

"You what?"

"It doesn't matter." Matt ran a hand across his mouth and jaw in frustration. "She's dead." Matt saw no reason to hide the truth from her, at least within reason. "Mr. Thomas told me she worked at Silver & Brent for Leland Owlsley, so… Fisk, indirectly."

"So you went off without telling anyone?" she asked, her tone definitely implying he'd been an idiot.

"I caught up with her as she was leaving work and she was not happy to see me. She hit me with her briefcase." He pointed to a visible injury on his head. "They found out Timothy came to our office and thought he was spilling secrets. They'd just fired her and ordered her out of the building."

"What happened?" Karen asked, her face pained.

"We both know Fisk doesn't leave loose ends. I tried to talk to her and tell her how much danger she was in. She was going to go to the Feds and tell them everything she knew. She was going to hide out-"

"Let me guess. At a little pay by the hour hotel at the edge of Hell's Kitchen."

That brought him up short. "How do you know that?"

"Because Mr. Thomas is dead, too. I got a call from the police this morning at the office. They found a man with a piece of paper in his pocket with our office name and number, but no ID. The police wanted to know if I could tell them who he was. They described him and I knew instantly. Then they wanted to know why he came to us."

"What did you tell them?"

"Attorney-Client privilege and all. I didn't want to tell them anything."

"But?"

"But they said he was dead. He was at a crappy hotel where it looked like he'd shot a woman and then himself."

Matt clenched his teeth in frustration. Fisk's people had definitely set the scene properly. "So what did you say?"

"I… I was so rattled… I said he came to us to represent him on a domestic battery charge. They did a lot of uh-huh-ing and saying that fit, even a snide comment about lawyers protecting a stalker."

"Convenient," Matt shook his head, "especially since he wasn't there when she died. Pretty sure it was the clerk who shot her."

"You were there? Why didn't you tell the police?"

"Funnily enough, blind guys don't get much credit as eyewitnesses."

"But-"

"The cops were on Fisk's payroll. They took over the scene and they couldn't have cared less what I had to say. There was nothing I could do or prove. It was like Ben all over again, or Mrs. Cardenas, no matter what we know." His voice had gotten quieter and quieter until it just trailed away.

"Where did you go?" she asked. When he raised his eyebrows she pointed and said, "Your shirt."

"My priest. He got it out of the donation box. Mine was ruined. I spent all night at the church."

"Did he give you any advice?"

"We talked about Ben and about…" He pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "About doing the best we could and letting God handle the rest."

Karen nodded. "Kinda wish He'd put the smackdown on a few people a little sooner rather than later."

Matt frowned. "I'm sure Mr. Thomas would have agreed."

"About that… Was it ok that I told the police about why he came to us?" she asked nervously.

Matt didn't really feel like nitpicking about attorney-client privilege. "The charges were public record."

"Ok. I didn't…" She shook her head. "I just hate that Fisk won again."

"At least they know Mr. Thomas didn't spill any corporate secrets or…"

"Or they'd kill us, too."

There was a waver in her voice as she said it. She brushed a tear away, and Matt frowned. There was something else, something she wasn't saying and Matt wished she would tell him. He couldn't really push though, since he was in much the same boat. He just couldn't tell her some things if he wanted her to stay safe. It left them both in a holding pattern of silence and inaction. Like everything else, there was nothing he could do about it.

Matt felt the despair, the sheer weight of failure, of the futility of his efforts, of the lack of any idea of what to do pressing on his chest until he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Hey," Karen sat down on the sofa beside him. "I thought we talked about this."

"What?"

"You've got that look again," she said quietly and took his hand in hers. "You're not alone. You have to remember that. We'll think of something."

"That won't help Mr. Thomas. He's on record as a murderer and we can't prove otherwise."

Karen squeezed his hand. "When we find someone who will turn on Fisk, the whole house of cards is going to collapse. When that happens, it will all come out. Whoever killed Mrs. Thomas, or whoever gave that order, or… something. It will all come out. We just have to remember that."

Matt huffed out a ghost of a laugh. "It's no wonder you and Foggy get along so well. You're the biggest optimists in Hell's Kitchen."

"I try," she said. "Even with all this."

Matt remembered what she'd said. The world fell apart. Didn't you notice? He knew she was struggling too, especially with the loss of Ben. She was still trying though.

She let go of his hand, gave him an awkward pat on the knee, and stood, once again reestablishing the boundaries between them. "And that's why I'm sure you and Foggy are going to get past this."

He wanted to believe it. He did. Foggy was… everything. He'd been his friend, his partner, his safety net, his sounding board, his personal shopper, his mother hen, his cheerleader, his eyes on the world. In a certain sense, Matt felt as if he'd been blinded again not to have Foggy with him.

Foggy and now Karen, the offices of Nelson & Murdoch, they were his place of safety. They were his sanctuary. They offered asylum from the madness and murderers of the world.

No matter how often he failed, no matter how often he lost, he couldn't give that up. He had to keep going. He had to find a way to convince Foggy to stay. He had to find a way to stop Fisk and Owlsley and every last person on their payroll, from the politicians all the way to the little guy on the street doing the grunt work. Until they could be stopped legally, Matt had to keep at his work. For Ben Urich, for Elena Cardenas, for Tim and Francine Thomas, for every single victim of Wilson Fisk and his associates.

"Matt?" Karen asked when he was silent for too long.

"I won't give up," he finally said.

"We won't," she corrected.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe this was a nuthouse they were running, that sort of asylum rather than the other. It didn't matter. Maybe their nuthouse offered the safety to get the job done.

Karen stepped back and smoothed down her skirt. "I need to get some sleep so I can be back at the office early, especially since neither of my bosses shows up these days. You never know when a client might stop by."

That brought an honest smile to his face. "Crazier things have happened."

"Tomorrow…"

Matt raised his eyebrows.

"The funeral… It's why I came by. It's tomorrow afternoon, graveside services only. I couldn't get you on the phone and…"

"Father Lantom mentioned he had a meeting to make the arrangements." Matt was surprised it was so soon. He hadn't thought the police would release the body for a few days. Then again, Fisk or Owlsley, whoever made the call, would have wanted it all taken care of as quickly as possible.

"I can come here first. We could go together?" she suggested.

"What about Foggy?" he asked, once again surprised.

"He said he'll be there, but with how you and Foggy are… I thought…"

It all became clear. She thought he would need her as his guide at the cemetery. That was normally Foggy's job and Foggy couldn't stand to be anywhere near him right now. "It sounds good. I'll see you then."

Matt stood beside Karen, both of them at the farthest edge of the semicircle that had formed around the coffin. Father Lantom finished the short service and Karen left to speak with Ben's widow. Matt wondered yet again what had happened to Foggy. He should have been there for Karen and all he'd left was a vague message. No matter how angry he was with Matt, he'd never been so mean-spirited as to hurt one person because he was mad at another. Something else had to be up.

Matt tried to remember the stages of grief. Denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance… He didn't know about those. Standing at Ben's graveside, he couldn't manage anything but anger. Matt lived in a world on fire, and the flames were licking at him, pushing him to move, to act. He just wasn't sure what to do yet.

Matt turned away from the coffin and tried to school his emotions as Father Lantom approached. The priest had helped him, offered comfort and assistance where he could. He didn't need to bear the brunt of Matt's anger.

"How are you holding up?" the priest asked.

Matt took the question at face value. Father Lantom was a good man, a caring man and he genuinely wanted to know, in this case both physically and mentally. Either way, the answer was the same. "Like a good Catholic boy."

"That bad, huh?"

Matt's wounds would heal well enough. Neither of the bullet wounds was disastrous. He had a feeling it had been more shock than anything else. Right now, the greater pain was that he was standing at the grave of another person who'd been trying to help those around him.

"He was a good man and he's gone, because I haven't stopped what's happening to this city." Matt knew his anger was leaking through, but he couldn't help it.

"You can't put that on yourself, Matthew. You've done everything you can, a lot you probably shouldn't have."

Matt could put that on himself. He'd taken it on the second he'd chosen to put on the mask. Matt could because he might be the only one able to stop Fisk.

Matt could put it on himself because he'd taken Francine to that hotel that was basically a kill box. He'd talked to Ben and told him everything the devil had learned. He was standing at Ben's grave because of it.

"And here we are."

Karen reappeared, reaching out to let Matt know she was there. He let her lead him through the minefield of headstones and he thought it was appropriate. His failure was measured in bodies.

They took a taxi back to the office. Matt decided he would stay for a few hours and then he would go to the gym. He really needed to hit something. Maybe then something would come to him.

And there you have it. Matt's going to go hit something, have a chat with Foggy, and then put the smackdown on Fisk. Thanks for reading!