Hello friends. I hope this is the start of regularly putting work back on .
As usual, I don't own Daredevil, but I wouldn't mind getting to know Foggy Nelson. And I thank my beta reader, Alice, for her gentle corrections, although if she lived closer she might chase me with her American Dictionary. Thanks, Diva.
Ain't That a Kick on the Head (apologies to Dean Martin)
Franklin Nelson, or Foggy if you used his nickname, used to scan the edges of the skyline and imagine he saw figures there. Blue and red could not be a lost songbird; it had to be Spiderman trying to catch criminals. A flaming four in the sky told him his most famous clients, the Fantastic Four, were off saving the world. Could he find the Avengers or Ironman or maybe a villain like Dr. Doom or the Green Goblin flying over his head? Foggy loved living in a place where the impossible happened every day.
The impossible got way too close when Matt Murdock, his college roommate, his law partner-damn it, his best friend-was one of those 'flying freaks' J. Jonah Jameson bitched about in each of his Bugle editorials.
Tuesday night Foggy sat in his ratty, old platform rocker with his nose stuck in his latest mystery novel. Read the next chapter or go to bed: if only all his decisions were that simple. Damn it, the phone was ringing. At twelve fifteen the machine could pick it up.
"Mr. Nelson, this is the Night Nurse, I need someone to pick up our friend and monitor him for concussion tonight. I don't think he wants to head to Bellevue with what he's dressed in. All his other contacts are unavailable…"
He grabbed the phone, "Yes, I'll be there ASAP. Just where is 'there' anyway?" Foggy fumbled for a pen and repeated the address the woman gave him while he shoved his feet into his slippers. "Will you be there?"
"Where else would I be, Mr. Nelson? You have fifteen minutes to get here."
"What happens after fifteen minutes… hello… hello?" The only answer was the whine of the dial tone.
Thirteen minutes and fifty three seconds later Nelson walked through a whitewashed door into the back of a medical supply warehouse. The desk by the door held a rack of cell phones and a laptop; definitely this was the centre of a strange communication hub. Foggy turned to the squeak of rubber soled shoes; the night nurse was here.
"Go to the room on the right," she dipped her shoulder to indicate just where right was. "What's in the bag?"
"A change of clothes, the long johns clash with my car's upholstery."
"Good idea, Mr. Nelson. You go help your friend change his clothes and when you're finished I'll have instructions for his care for the next twenty four to forty eight hours."
Forty eight hours! God, how many continuances needed to be asked for and appointments were going to have to be rescheduled again. Thanks for ruining my week, Matt. One of these days I'm going put an anchor on your ass to keep you from jumping around the rooftops.
"Come on, Mr. Murdock; time to get you to bed."
"Has your friend been partying, Mr. Nelson?" Ed, the doorman joked as he helped pull Matt of the back of the cab. "Think you can get him to your place on your own?"
Foggy grimaced as he frog marched Matt into the elevator, "No problem, I've been rescuing my partner here for a long, long time."
When he finally got Matt inside and on the sofa, Foggy was puffing like a steam engine. How the hell could anyone without Spidey senses or mutant powers manage to do anything when simply moving Matt from the door to the couch was so hard?
"Okay, partner," Foggy dropped to his haunches in front of Matt, "wake up… I've got questions for you."
"H'uh," the voice of Matt Murdock was barely audible.
"Open your eyes and talk to me. I've got some questions for you."
The scarred, milky eyes opened but it was Matt's right ear that turned to Foggy. "Ask away."
"Tell me your whole name," a smirk came to Foggy's lips, "and all your nicknames."
"I'm Matthew Michael Murdock. Mike Murdock, Mattie and Mattie boy," he shook his head slightly, "Daredevil, the guys called me daredevil. Dad didn't let me fight with them."
Foggy chewed his lower lip. So this was where he got that damn name.
"God, my head hurts."
Foggy turned away from Matt. He never knew where the name came from and now he did. He'd check on his partner in an hour or two.
At 2:30 a.m. Foggy pulled himself out of his bed and staggered to the couch. Switching on the lights he could see the bruises were starting to rise out of pale Irish skin. It was a good thing Matt played hero at night or he would get sunburned redder than his long johns.
"Okay, Matt, what day is it?"
"Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday… what time is it?" Murdock's hand touched the swelling at his hairline, "Ouch."
"Very good counselor and who is the President of the United States?"
"Obama, Barack Obama," Matt said as he ran his hands through his hair. It was stiff with blood but Foggy wasn't about to bathe him.
"You're okay for now. Talk to you soon," Foggy stretched as he rose to his feet. "You and I get one hour of sleep before our next voir dit."
3:47 a.m. and Foggy Nelson was ready to ignore doing the concussion check and just sleep a little longer. Instead he crawled out of his warm bed and went over the sofa to shake Matt awake.
He was getting bored with the standard questions. "Okay, Murdock, how do you get all the pretty girls?"
Matt raised his head from his pillow. "Just lucky, I guess."
"Looks like your ego survived," Foggy tried not to sound disgusted, but he remembered Karen Page, Elektra Natchios, Natasha Romanov and Milla…Murdock. He'd married Milla and she ended up broken. There were times when Foggy didn't like Matt Murdock at all.
Foggy shaved and showered before he checked Matt the next time. He'd called Luke Cage to come in and make sure Matt stayed down for the rest of the day. As much as he was annoyed with his partner he really didn't want Matt to drop dead from a stroke in the office today.
Carrying two cups of coffee, Foggy sat on the arm of the sofa and waved the mug close to Matt's nose. Matt twitched and without opening his eyes he grabbed the mug from Foggy's hand.
Foggy sipped his coffee before he started. "Well, another concussion check; what is your name?"
"Matthew Michael Murdock."
"What is your quest," Foggy smirked when he saw Matt wrinkle his forehead. "Come on, Sir Matthew, what is your quest."
"To find the Holy Grail," Matt in his best Pythonish accent and then yawned, "do I go to work now?"
"Only if you tell me your favourite colour or the flight speed of a sparrow doing whatever it was doing because I can't remember what the stupid line was." Foggy laughed gently and finished his coffee. "No, Luke's coming in and if he has to sit on you he's making sure you stay put today and tomorrow and the day after." Foggy stood and headed to the Kitchen. "He'll be here before I leave."
"Hey, Foggy," Matt hoisted himself into a sitting position feeling each bump and bruise on his body. "Thanks for getting me last night. I appreciate you being here for me."
"Yeah, well, I would hate to have to break in another partner. Besides, I don't know if either Spider-man or Thor has a law degree."
Matt laughed, "They don't...and Foggy..."
"It's blue. My favourite colour is blue."
"I would've guessed red."