Author’s note: Please keep in mind that this is a dark story and while there is no MCD or explicit depiction of sex or violence, this is not a sunshine and rainbow fanfic! If you aren’t up for this, it might be better to turn back and read one of my fluffier fics!
Back to DaredevilFriendly morning light streamed through the large window front. In bright spots the sun scintillated on the marble countertops of the spacious open plan kitchen. Soft music played over the speakers as the smell of fresh coffee filled the air. Outside, early day craziness had probably taken over the city. But here, behind the soundproof security windows, the howling of the motors, the angry honking and yelling, was not audible at all. Like most unpleasant things, they stayed outside.
Foggy hummed along with the tunes. It was a nice morning and he was in a good mood. Last night, Matt had returned from his business trip and as always, Foggy’d slept way better with him by his side. Smiling, Foggy remembered their reunion, sweet at the door, passionate later in the bedroom.
What could he say? Matt was all he needed. Sure, Foggy knew that friends and family often feared Foggy’s life centered too much around Matt. And maybe his younger self would agree. When he’d entered law school, his plan was to conquer the world all on his own, never depending on anyone else. But to be honest, this plan had been derailed as soon as the handsome guy with the dark hair, the perfect face and the captivating smile had entered the room.
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Matt said and threw his backpack in the corner of the dorm room. “Just... please don’t make a big deal of my blindness, alright?”
“Of course!” Foggy nodded. “You’re just a guy, right?” His eyes flicked across Matt’s face. “A very handsome guy.”
“Hm?” Matt’s brows flew up.
Noticing his slip-up, Foggy stammered and tried to backpedal. “I... I mean for the girls. Your looks, your harmless attitude...” Wildly, he gestured over Matt, even though Matt could not see it. “That whole package must work great on... the girls.”
Like a cat on the prowl, Matt moved closer.
“Oh,” Matt said, grinning. “So..., it doesn’t work on you?”
Foggy swallowed. He was in trouble.
Just as Foggy had filled two cups of coffee, the sound of bare feet on marble ground approached the kitchen. Fondly, Foggy shook his head when Matt came inside. Of course, Matt wore nothing but a smug smile. Naked as Adam and Eve, he padded closer and pressed a soft kiss to Foggy’s cheek.
“Hey, love,” Matt purred into his ear.
“Did the smell of coffee summon you?” Foggy laughed.
“No!” Matt said with fake indignation. “It was the thought of you, of course!”
“Sure. But the coffee helped?”
“Maybe a little.”
Smiling, Matt took the cup Foggy offered. In companionable silence, they had breakfast, hands entwining now and again until they were needed again. After downing his last sip of coffee, Matt sighed.
“I fear I’ll come home late tonight,” he said. “We sealed the deal, they’ll merge with us and bring their clients. But you know how it is, the contracts need to be drawn up and then everyone and their mother needs a verified copy. Not even to speak of the unrelated cases I need to catch up on.”
Foggy took Matt’s hand and kissed it.
“I’m sure you’ll handle it all just fine.” Foggy did not even try to keep the immense pride out of his voice. He loved Matt, but he also admired him. Smart, brave and determined.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Matt said with a sigh. “What are you up to?”
“Video call with the bank in an hour,” Foggy said. “For lunch I’ll meet with Urich to talk about the whole Fisk thing. He’d still love to speak to you as well, by the way… It’s been over a year now and…”
“I’ll leave that to you, love.” Matt’s smile did not reach his eyes. “You and that Daredevil character did most of the work.”
“You’re not still jealous of Daredevil, are you?” Foggy chuckled in disbelief.
“Never was,” Matt said, insistently. “I trust you. But I’m glad you stay clear of vigilantes these days. I want you safe.”
“And I am,” Foggy promised. “Anyway, around 4, I meet with Marci to help her pick a wedding dress.”
“Okay, that could be much harder than getting Aleksei off.”
Foggy’s mood dropped and his face fell.
“That scumbag. Do you really have to...”
“Foggy, it’s part of my job,” Matt said. “You know this.”
“Yeah, right, sorry.”
Half an hour later, Matt was fully and smartly dressed. He kissed Foggy goodbye and promised to be home as soon as possible. With Matt out of the house, Foggy checked his emails and their bank accounts. Everything was as it should be and so the video call was boring but not problematic.
Shortly after, Ben Urich called to cancel their lunch. The poor guy had come down with a fever and a cold. Foggy could barely understand the scratchy voice, but they managed to agree on rescheduling as soon as Urich was better.
Now Foggy was left with some time on his hands. So he opened the large cardboard box with picture books he had meant to sort for quite a while now.
A large one, to the last page, was full of images of his time as a baby and toddler. With an aching heart, he found that Matt’s photographs from this period of life did not even fill half an album. And while Foggy’s teenage time had one more book dedicated to them, for Matt there was only a transparent pocket with a handful of group photographs of Matt and other kids from the orphanage. Foggy knew that Matt did not want sympathy for his life after the death of his father. Just as he did not want to talk about Jake Murdock’s murder and the fact that the culprit had never been caught.
Anyway, Foggy was glad when he came to pictures of their adult lives which were not distinctable from each other. From the day they met, they’d been joined at the hip and the photographs showed it.
Foggy decided to put the childhood images somewhere in a drawer and give the picture books of their time together a more prominent place in the living room. For Matt it had not really any worth, but it made Foggy feel good to have proof that their life was amazing, no matter the hard times Matt had to go through.
Unfortunately, all the shelves there were already filled with books, some even in second row. A lot of them were in Braille and needed a lot of space. Not even to speak of the countless audiobooks. With furrowed brows, Foggy looked at all their possessions. He did not want to get rid of anything and even if he wanted to, he would have to fight Matt for it. And Matt would win.
“Matt! We live in a shoebox,” Foggy argued. “I barely have space for my butt. There is literally no space for a punching bag!”
“Well, I can hardly use your butt as a substitute, can I?” Matt smirked.
Foggy felt very warm all of a sudden. “I... I’d rather you not, yes,” he stuttered. “But can’t you go to the gym to train?”
“I can and I do.” Matt’s face took on a weird expression. “But not always, not everyday. I have to train everyday.”
“Really? I heard 2-3 times a week is enough,” Foggy said.
“Not for me,” Matt answered, face still darkened. “I need to be stronger.”
The shift in the mood was eerie. Foggy crossed his arms in front of his body and suppressed a shiver. It took a few seconds before he dared to ask, “Why?”
Within the blink of an eye, Matt’s boyish grin was back.
“To protect you, of course,” he said as he playfully brushed his finger across Foggy’s nose. “Can’t have anyone steal you from me.”
With burning cheeks, Foggy watched helplessly as Matt called for a clerk and asked if they could deliver the punching bag.
Not a chance that Foggy could make space in one of the bookshelves here. But then a thought hit him. Suddenly, he remembered a narrow low shelf Matt used to have in his old apartment. It would fit perfectly between the telephone cabinet and the music system. Made of the same dark wood as the living room furniture it would not look out of place. Plus, it had the ideal size to store the picture books in it.
Matt was not the type to throw anything away that was not broken so he probably still had the little shelf somewhere.
Foggy sighed. The most likely place to look was the attic. Since he and Matt had lived here together, Foggy had been up there maybe on two occasions, each time only looking through the hatch while the friends that helped them move carried stuff around.
Ironically, the basement was a friendlier place with Matt’s training studio and a small bar. But the attic gave Foggy the creeps. It was cold, dark and full of cobwebs. Matt sometimes went upstairs, though Foggy did not know exactly why. He assumed Matt stored old files and documents there.
But needs must. Foggy wanted the cute little shelf so he had to work for it. He went to the third floor and made his way to the narrow corridor with the stairwell to the attic.
The wooden stairs creaked out their protest as he climbed them. Unlike the rest of the house, this part was hardly maintained. It sure would not break underneath his weight, but each step echoed loudly through the building.
Finally upstairs, Foggy quickly found and used an old switch. A light bulb flickered to life and tinted the space in an eerie half-light. The dancing shadows were almost scarier than the complete darkness before and Foggy had half the mind to turn back. But then his eyes fell on the other side of the room. The weak light barely reached the spot, but Foggy recognized a door.
Now, Foggy’d never been so far in the attic so he couldn’t know about everything in here. However, even from afar, he saw that this door was out of place. All of the attic was old creaking wood so the shining new metal of the frame and leaf did not quite fit. Surely, this had been installed later.
Fear beaten by curiosity, Foggy approached the door. It was firmly locked and when he examined the walls around it, he found that they had been enforced as well. Which made sense. An unbreakable door was not helpful when any intruder could just walk through the wall.
What made no sense was that Foggy did not know about this. Matt had never spoken about having a door installed up here, let alone did he ever mention a key. Strange. At the spur of the moment, Foggy took his phone in hand and dialed Matt’s number.
“Hey, sweetheart,” sounded his husband’s voice after a few rings. “Everything alright? You usually don’t call me when I’m working.”
Was there an accusation in Matt’s tone? Nonsense. He was just worried.
“Yes, sorry, all good,” Foggy said. “I was just wondering where the key to the metal door is.”
“The safe has a number lock, darling.” Matt laughed.
“Not the safe door,” Foggy said. “The metal door in the attic.” For a long moment, Foggy heard nothing and finally asked, “Hello? Matt? You there?”
“Ah... yes, I’m here,” Matt said. “Why are you in the attic? I thought you hated the place.”
“Oh, believe me, I do,” Foggy said. “Horror movie material. But I was looking for that small wooden shelf you used to have. It would be a good fit for the living room and I want to store picture books in it.”
“Oh,” Matt said. “Sorry, Foggy, but I gave that to Karen when we moved. I didn’t know you liked it. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, you couldn’t know,” Foggy said dismissively. His focus had shifted away from having a good spot for picture books. “But where is the key to this door?”
“Puh, no idea, love,” Matt said after a beat. “I haven’t been there in… forever. Oh, I gotta go. Love you!”
“Matt?” Foggy asked, but the line was dead. “Oookay?”
A strange feeling gripped Foggy’s heart. Had Matt just fibbed? Matt had this eerie talent to know when someone lied and over the years Foggy had adapted this skill as well - to a much lesser extent than Matt, but especially in voices he could usually hear it. And when claiming that he had not been in the attic for a long time, Matt had sounded… off. In addition, it was hardly believable that Matt would forget the whereabouts of a key, or of anything really. Matt’s sense of orientation was impressive, but he was still blind. It was important for him to know where things were placed. So he always was very aware of the locations he left his possessions in, even more so when it came to small objects like keys.
Then again, why would he lie about that? What could be in that room that was worth lying to your husband?
*
“Maybe a body?” Marci suggested. “Or bodies? Plural?”
“I think I would have smelled that,” Foggy said and hurried to add, “Plus, Matt doesn’t hide bodies in our attic because he doesn’t have bodies to hide.”
“Says you.” Marci swirled in front of the mirror in the long slim fitted dress. “What do you think?”
“I like the one before better. The pattern here is very… floral,” Foggy said.
“Yeah.”
“I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing - try that one with the ribbon shoes - after all, even Matt can forget stuff, right?” Foggy handed Marci the shoes.
“Maybe,” Marci said. “But the key to a secret safe room he subsequently installed? Seems counterproductive. Very unlike your husband.” A weird tone swung in her voice at the last word.
“Well, it’s not exactly secret,” Foggy said defensively. “I didn’t see it before because I never go there. He didn’t hide it.”
“He also never told you about it.”
“Well, no… but… I don’t know when exactly this was built in and… I mean he is busy…”
“Yes, but with what, Foggy-bear?” Now Marci turned away from the mirror and focused her ice-blue eyes on Foggy. “Admit it, since you decided to play trophy wife for him, I know more about his work life than you. And I know people piss their pants when they hear his name.”
“Well, he is good at his job so people fear him as an opponent and…” Foggy took a deep breath. Reminding himself that Marci was very stressed due to job and upcoming marriage, he did not let her words provoke him. He decided to play it off with a joke. “... and I think I’m more of a trad wife than a trophy wife.”
At least that got a giggle out of her. “Why not both?” she said. “You got the looks and the homemaker skills.”
“Plus, I’m a great styling advisor,” he said. “I say dress number two and shoes number four.”
“You might be onto something,” Marci said, grabbed the dress and shoes and went to change once more.
Relieved, Foggy turned around to give her privacy. Change of topic successful. Probably it was insensitive that he’d even brought up Matt. Marci’s heart had most likely healed, her pride not necessarily.
“Marci asked me to come to Carmen’s party,” Foggy said, sitting down on his bed.
“Weird. Shouldn’t Carmen invite you?” Matt smirked.
“Yes. Well, she did.”
“Why did Marci feel the need to invite you,too, then?”
For a moment, Foggy was distracted by Matt’s fingers flying over the braille book on his desk. Foggy was not too bad at multitasking. But making conversation while absorbing a text about temporary insanity and its meaning in law was impressive.
“No, she... Carmen invited Marci, too,” Foggy explained. “And Marci asked if we should go together.”
“Ah.”
“You know... as a date.”
A few seconds, Matt was silent. Then he closed his book, left his chair and walked over to Foggy.
“Tell her no,” Matt said, calm but firm.
“Um...” Intimidated and confused, Foggy looked up as Matt towered over him. “Why?”
Within the blink of an eye, Foggy was pulled to his feet. Matt’s lips met Foggy’s, softly but insistently prying them apart. Overwhelmed Foggy opened up. Matt took the chance to slip in his tongue to seek out its counterpart. In a sweet rhythm their mouths moved against each other, their bodies pressed together. When Matt broke the kiss, he left Foggy breath- and speechless.
“Tell her no,” Matt repeated, in the same balmy and serene tone as before, but now with the hint of a smile, playing around his lips. Foggy knew it was not possible, but he felt like Matt’s eyes were looking right at him.
Mesmerized, he nodded. Reminding himself that Matt could not see that, he hurried to say, “Yes. Yes, I... I’ll call her.”
“You do that,” Matt said. “Right now would be best. So you don’t forget and she has enough time to find another date.”
“Y... yeah, good thinking, Matt.”
Marci had her reasons to dislike and even to distrust Matt. Foggy had not. So while he drove Marci home, he felt pretty guilty about even talking to her about it. Of course, she wouldn’t go gossiping. But still, Foggy was concerned about trust and then went to talk to Marci about something between himself and Matt.
He would simply ask Matt again tonight. Calling him during work had been a very silly idea anyway. When in the office, Matt had other things to do than worrying about keys and their whereabouts.
After letting Marci out of the car at her apartment building, Foggy went grocery shopping. Then he returned home and prepared dinner, trying not to think about the attic for now.
When he heard the main door, he hurried to greet Matt with a kiss.
“Hey, how was your day?” Foggy pecked Matt’s cheek.
“Tedious! Do I smell chicken?”
“I hope so. Otherwise I did something wrong.”
Matt chuckled. “I trust you with chicken, love. Can we eat now? I'm starving.”
During dinner, Matt spoke about his colleagues and their many failures. Foggy caught himself wondering why I did not speak about his cases or clients anymore. He had done so in the past. Then again, they weren’t law partners anymore, Matt would be breaching attorney-client-privilege.
After dinner, Matt helped clear the table and fill the dishwasher. He appeared in a good mood and relaxed. Shortly, Foggy wondered if he should risk this by asking about the door in the attic. But that was silly. Matt did not have secrets so it would not stress him to talk about that door.
Still, Foggy felt his heart beating wildly as he turned to Matt to ask him. However, just as he wanted to speak, his mouth was occupied otherwise. Within the fracture of a second, Matt had pulled Foggy into his arms and into a deep kiss. By the time Matt’s lips wandered along Foggy’s jaw towards his neck, Foggy had trouble forming words. With the tender nips and kisses applied to his throat, the key to the locked door slipped downward on Foggy’s priority list and ultimately out of his mind.
Tomorrow was another day.
*
Foggy awoke with Matt’s beside empty. Confused, he checked his phone and found it was not even 6 am. In the kitchen, he heard someone rummaging so he got out of bed and followed the noise. Matt was cursing and struggling with his tie near the coffee machine.
“Morning, love,” Foggy said. “Let me help you with that.”
“Ah…erm, yes, please,” Matt said. “Sorry to wake you.”
“What are you even up for?” Foggy asked while he fixed Matt’s tie. “This is an hour before your usual time.”
“Early appointment,” Matt said quickly. “Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You would’ve left without a word?” Foggy pouted.
“Left you a note.” Matt pointed to the kitchen counter.
Indeed, there lay a piece of paper with Matt’s messy non-Braille handwriting saying, “sorry, forgot early appointment”.
“Well, thanks for that,” Matt said, patting his tie with a grin. “See you later.”
“Wait… hmph,” Foggy mumbled into the kiss that was pressed on his mouth. “What about that strange door in the att…”
“No time, sweetheart,” Matt called and rushed to the door. “See you tonight.”
In disbelief, Foggy stared after him. Yesterday, Matt had kissed (and fucked) all the worries and concerns out of Foggy. Now, like a wild river through a breaking dam, they came rushing back into his head. Appointment or not. How could Matt not have two seconds to tell Foggy where that goddamn key was?
Huffing, Foggy crossed his arms. Well, he could find it on his own even if he had no idea where to start. The obvious choice were the key hooks, but of course that would have been too easy. Foggy knew all the keys hanging there and which locks they belonged to.
It was unlikely, Matt carried it around. There were 4 keys on Matt’s key chain: one for the house, one for their mailbox, one for the office building and one for his personal office. Foggy would have noticed a fifth. Unless… Excitedly, Foggy hurried to the key hooks, grabbed the spare keys and went to the attic.
“Dammit!” Neither the house key nor the office keys fit into the mysterious door’s lock.
Frustrated, Foggy wanted to go back down, but then his eyes fell on a file cabinet standing at the opposite wall. Thoughtfully, he approached it. It would make sense to store the key near the door, right?
Systematically, Foggy searched all drawers. It was one of the corners the weak lightbulb’s glow barely reached, but it was enough to make out what was inside the cabinet. As expected Matt did store some client files here. And while no key was hidden between them, they made Foggy’s heart race. He did not know all the names. But those he did know formed the who is who list of “too rich for jail scumbags”. Of course, Foggy had known that nobody was as successful as a defense attorney as Matt by defending the innocent. But seeing so many names like this in Matt’s cabinet… Marci’s words came back to his mind. What did he really know about Matt’s work? Foggy had been out of the loop for quite a while.
Everybody said he should do it. After Matt, Daredevil and Foggy’d brought down Fisk, voices that Foggy should run for DA became louder and louder. It made sense. For tactical reasons, Matt did not put his face on the whole thing. He’d handled the everyday clients while Foggy worked on dismantling Fisk’s empire with information brought in by Daredevil. The vigilante himself, naturally, stayed in the shadows. So Foggy was the hero who actually had a face for the public.
His friends, especially Marci, encouraged him. His family was so proud and supportive, they even offered to help with the campaign. Bit by bit, Foggy was drawn in by the maelstrom of excitement and today he decided he would do it. Franklin Nelson would run for DA and maybe even win.
After a deep breath, he took his phone in hand. Just then, it rang. Matt’s name was on the display and Foggy answered with a smile.
“Exactly the man I wanted to call,” he said.
“It’s good to know you think of me just as much as the other way around,” Matt said in that flirty tone which always made Foggy’s knees buckle. “Can you come to mine tonight? I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“I was about to ask the same thing,” Foggy said. “7 pm? Dinner? I can bring Chinese.”
“Let me take care of dinner, love,” Matt said. “Just be there.”
“Oh. Okay. I will. See you then.”
“See you soon.”
Matt rang off.
Punctually, Foggy arrived at Matt’s house. Admittedly, he was nervous about telling Matt what he planned. After all, it had been Foggy’s idea to open a law firm together. But naturally, Foggy could not be District Attorney and Defense Attorney. So for the foreseeable future Matt would be alone with the firm should Foggy win.
Laughing at himself, Foggy shook off the thought. Never in their time together had Matt been anything but supportive. This would not change now.
After Matt buzzed him in, Foggy jogged up the stairs. The apartment door stood open. Matt however, was not there to greet him which confused Foggy for a second. But then he caught a whiff of a delicious smell which indicated that Matt was cooking. So Matt probably was busy in the kitchen.
Nothing, however, could have prepared Foggy for what came next. He entered the living room and froze. The table was set with cutlery and plates much fancier than anything he remembered ever seeing in Matt’s home. Candles and roses rounded off the pretty picture. Next to the table stood Matt, in his best suit and smiled. Before Foggy could say a word, Matt went to his knees and said, “Franklin Nelson… Foggy… would you do me the honors of being my husband?”
At once, Foggy knelt in front of Matt and fell into his arms, nodding and repeating “yes, yes, yes,” all over again. He would be Matt’s husband. This was the only thought he had for days.
Foggy did not like feeling this way. The time before their marriage was one of the happiest periods he remembered. And suddenly, it appeared… tainted. As if a dark veil had been thrown over the bright memories.
In the morning of that fateful day, Foggy’d decided to run for DA. In the evening, he had buried the idea due to Matt’s proposal.
Yes, they had talked about it, but Matt being the rising star of Defense attorney’s and Foggy running for District Attorney - conflicts would have been predestined. And so Foggy had changed his plans.
Never had he regretted that. Nor had he regretted to, bit by bit, centering his life around their home. Their firm was successful so Foggy’d had his hands full with taking care of the firm’s and their private finances. These days the firm had its own department for that and Foggy only oversaw their own money which still was enough to do. Plus, he liked making their home nice, cozy and, well, homey. He was not ashamed of that choice. Neither were friends and family. They’d just been worried, but Foggy’d brushed them off.
“Of course, that’s fine, dear. But you wanted to be a lawyer since you were five.”
“And now I want to be there for Matt. To, you know, have his back.”
“Look, Matt is great, really. It’s not about him as an individual. I think you should not be dependent on anyone.”
“I have my own money as well, Mom. Don’t worry, he won’t knock me up and leave me penniless.”
“Oh, you…”
According to the floor plans, the area behind that door was not exactly huge. If the scale was correct maybe maybe 60 square feet. Considering the sloping of the roof, there was not so much space. What could someone hide in there? No! Matt was not hiding anything. Right?
“So, the witness just disappeared?” Foggy asked.
“Did not show up in court.” Matt shrugged. “Police found his home abandoned and nobody has seen him.”
“Pretty convenient for your client, hm?”
“What are you saying, Foggy?”
“Do you think your client could’ve…”
Matt laughed. “Love, this is New York. So many people live here, some disappear - for millions of reasons. And this Henry Gaspard was not exactly known for his… righteousness. Unstable person the DA put his money on. I believe he just ran away from his landlord or a paternity suit.”
“Yeah, probably..:”
“Certainly.”
Foggy shook his head. Nonsense. He would simply ask Matt again in the evening. And so he did.
“About this door…”
“I told you, sweetheart, I gave the shelf away,” Matt said softly. “It’s not behind the door either.”
“Yeah, but what is in there?”
“I’m not sure. Old stuff,” Matt said with a shrug. “Part of the clutter we stored in the attic when we moved in.”
“But the door was not there back then.”
“No.” Matt put away his book and sighed. Guilt rushed through Foggy for interrupting his husband’s free time with that. “I had it installed when you visited your aunt. I didn’t want the noise to disturb you. I thought it was a good time.”
“But what did you install it for ?” Foggy asked. “To store the same clutter as before?”
Matt laughed and took Foggy’s hand. “No. I thought it would be nice to have a safe room. But then we got this security system from Rand industries that I fully trust. So the room became kind of superfluous.” He pressed a kiss to Foggy’s knuckles. “Having a whole safe house is so much better than having a tiny safe room, don’t you agree?”
“Ah, and then you lost the key.”
“Lost is a harsh word.” Matt chuckled. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere. But… who cares. There is nothing of interest behind the door so you don’t need a key.”
Foggy furrowed his brows. Had Matt squeezed his hand a bit tighter at that last sentence? Or had Foggy imagined that? Either way, there was this weird tone in Matt’s voice again. He was hiding something. Or not?
For now, Foggy dropped it. Maybe it would be good if Matt believed that Foggy believed him.
But from now on, Foggy was in a constant battle. A fight ensued between the part of him who felt Matt was evading, avoiding, even lying and the part who refused to make a big deal out of a silly door. The former had grown very strong though.
It did not help that in the following days Matt left early and came home late. When there was time to talk, he claimed he did not know where the key was. And while he remained calm and casual, Foggy was under the impression Matt grew irritated.
So he searched for a key in secret. He even tried picking the lock, but found he had no talent for this at all.
One late afternoon, Foggy poured himself a coffee, annoyed and frustrated. This was a big house and he was looking for something as small as a key. A key which - by now he was convinced of it - Matt did not want him to find. And Matt was smart.
Frowning, Foggy thought about possible hiding spots. If Matt was lying and was using the room, he would need the key to be easily accessible. Surely, Foggy would remember if Matt regularly climbed on a chair to fumble with the plant pot on a shelf. (Not that Foggy had not checked ALL the plant pots.) It had to be a place Matt could go without Foggy wondering about it. The key would be easy and quick to grab as well as easy and quick to put back.
“Since you are a horrible snoop, my love,” Matt said with a bright smile. “I had to hide your present. And this time I did good.”
“Yes, yes, yes, you’re a super smart hider of stuff,” Foggy said impatiently. “Now, where is it? What is it?”
Laughing, Matt stepped to the wardrobe. In one quick motion, he pulled out one of his old coats. Foggy raised a brow.
“You're giving me one of your coats? Wow, thanks,” he said sardonically. “Is this a hint to lose weight? Cause right now, I couldn’t even dream of closing one of those buttons.”
Matt looked shocked and indignated. “I would never.” With one quick step, he was in Foggy’s space and kissed him. “You’re perfect.”
Then he removed his coat from the hanger, revealing a brand new suit - in Foggy’s size. It was made of nightblue silk and perfectly cut.
“Matt, this is…,” Carefully, Foggy let his hand slide over the material. “Thank you!”
“You’re very welcome. Try it on?”
Foggy’s eyes widened. Matt was the type to hide a suit in a wardrobe. So, a key… Excitedly, Foggy rushed to the key hooks near the door again. They were all attached to a magnetic metal board, but only the upper ends were affixed to the wall. So Foggy could grab the lower part and fold it upwards. On the backside of the board clung a simple key, no chain on it.
At once, Foggy grabbed it and all but flew up the stairs. With a shaking hand he tried pushing in the key. Easily, it slid into the lock and Foggy could turn it until he heard a satisfying clicking.
He hesitated. He could still go back. Now was still time to pull out the key, put it where he found it and forget about the whole thing. If he opened the door and discovered… whatever he would discover there, he would not be able to unsee, to unknow.
No, he had to know. There was no way he could push this out of his head. Not with Matt’s weird behavior about it.
So Foggy pressed down the handle and opened the door. Darkness greeted him, even thicker than in the rest of the attic. That was strange since the room should have a window though it never had come to Foggy’s mind to check from the outside if the floor plans were correct there. He fumbled along the walls until he found a light switch. After pressing it, he had to close his eyes. Unlike the anteroom, this one had a proper lamp and the room was suddenly brightly lit. When he’d adjusted, he screamed.
In the corner stood a mannequin, wearing a red robe with golden seams. Breathing heavily, Foggy let himself fall against the wall.
“God, that’s why I hate dolls,” he whispered. “In all sizes.”
When his heart and breath had calmed, his eyes began to wander. There was, in fact, a window, but a simple light brown curtain was drawn before it. A small metal shelf held a handful of books and a very old first aid kit. Some nails had been hammered into the wall, several pairs of boxing gloves hanging there. A wooden board was attached to the wall above the door and different kinds of boxing trophies were lined up there. In a heavy chest, Foggy found more robes like the one the mannequin was wearing.
Foggy sighed. The doll had its back to the wall, but on the other robes Foggy could read the rightful owner’s name: “Battlin’ Jack Murdock”. The rest was… clutter. Clutter he did not know, had not seen before, but nonetheless… clutter.
This was no safe room. It was a secret shrine.
“Oh, Matty,” Foggy said softly.
“Yeah?” asked a familiar voice.
Screaming in shock - yet again -. Foggy whirled around.
In the door stood Matt, leaning against the frame, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Matt!” Foggy said. “Matty, I… I’m so…”
“Should’ve known I could hide nothing from you.” Matt smiled lightly as he stepped into the room.
“Why did you feel the need to hide it, anyway?” Foggy asked, throwing his arms up. “Memories of your father! Jesus, Matty. We could have put some of them in our actual living space. Instead you hide them here. You built a room to hide them!”
“To be fair, this was planned as a safe room,” Matt said, thoughtfully letting his fingers slide over his father’s robe. “Only when I found we did not need one, I dissolved the storage room I had and had the things brought here.”
“But why not tell me?”
“I…” Matt halted and sighed, “look around. This isn’t just a picture book or one piece of memorabilia. I… I couldn’t part with any of it. I can’t see, but even I know that it’s a lot! I feel so silly for clinging to the past like that. I didn’t want you to think I was pathetic.”
In two strides Foggy crossed the room to pull Matt into a hug. “I will not think less of you for wanting to keep your father’s memory alive. For wanting him close. Nothing pathetic about it.” Ashamed, Foggy buried his face in Matt’s chest and mumbled, “I’m so sorry for not respecting your wish to keep this private.”
“Nonsense.” Matt ran his hand through Foggy’s hair. “It’s normal that you want to know what’s going on in your own house. And I was being evasive and weird. No wonder you were curious.”
“I really was scared you stored corpses here.”
Matt chuckled. “Wouldn’t you have smelled that?”
“What do I know about safe rooms? Maybe they’re sound- and smell proof.”
“I’ll check with Rand about this feature,” Matt said.
Softly, he put his hands on Foggy’s shoulder. With mild force he made Foggy face him so he could press a kiss against his mouth.
“Dinner?”
“Good idea.”
*
After dinner, they settled on the couch. Matt turned on some music and put his head in Foggy’s lap.
“I’ve been thinking,” Matt said. “You did seem a bit… agitated about the whole thing.”
“A tiny bit,” Foggy admitted with a smile.
“I was wondering if maybe you should come back to work,” Matt suggested and before Foggy could protest, continued, “I know you like this arrangement. I like it, too. But you also liked being a lawyer. It’s our firm, you’d decide how much and how long you work.”
“Matt, I don’t want you to give me a job to keep me busy,” Foggy said, a bit offended. “You know that I’ll be on board as soon as you need me, but you have so many people who can…”
“I do need your help!”
“Oh?”
“There is the young lawyer. Anton Thompson. Great talent, but needs some guidance.”
“Again, a lot of people who work for you could do that.”
“Not necessarily,” Matt said with a sigh. “Thompson is good. Smart, quick-witted, but arrogant. It’s not easy to get through to him with advice.”
“Why would I get through to him?”
Sheepishly, Matt smiled. “He knows about your fight against Fisk. When he learned you’re my husband, his eyes began to glow and he started gushing how smart and cool you are. He is a fan.”
“A fan? Of me?”
“Huge fan. If there is someone in the world he would listen to, it’s you.”
Groaning, Foggy sank deeper into the couch. “I’ll think about it,” he said, knowing full well that he could not resist Matt’s pleading face.
*
Matt closed the main door. Quickly, he took the key to the safe room and made his way to the attic. After unlocking the metal door, he marched to the mannequin, wearing his father’s robe, and let his hand slide inside the pocket. The chain with the single key jingled in his hand.
Satisfied, he secured the room again and hurried downstairs. He’d just arrived at the basement door when his phone rang. “Anton Thompson, Anton Thompson” repeated the automated voice until Matt accepted the call.
“Thompson,” he greeted. “Where is my husband? You are supposed to…”
“Safe and sound in his office,” Thompson assured. “Door’s open. I have eyes on him. Just taking the opportunity to report in.”
“Yeah, right. All good?”
“All good. We get along great. He allowed me to call him ‘Foggy’.”
“Fantastic,” Matt said drily. “How long do I have?”
“At least until midnight, I’d say,” Thompson answered. “Your husband promised to show me the best bars around the office. Apparently, there will be Karaoke. Foggy is very nice.”
“Don’t get ideas, Thompson,” Matt growled. “As you said: my husband.”
Thompson chuckled. “I’m not stupid enough to steal from you, sir.”
“I sure hope so. For your sake. Now get back to work and keep Foggy safe.”
“Will do, sir.”
Matt continued his way to the basement. In his training room he immediately went to the lockers he had bought. “For atmosphere” he had told Foggy.
Grunting, he pulled the right one aside. Feeling along the wall, he found the small slit fast. He pulled the chain out of his pocket and put the key into the hidden lock. After the click, Matt pushed against the wall and a small section of it gave in, letting Matt into the tiny room behind.
A weak heartbeat greeted Matt. But the breathing he heard was regular and undisturbed. The smell of sweat and urine filled the air and underneath lay the scent of dried blood. A broken voice whimpered when Matt entered.
“Sammy,” Matt said conversationally while grabbing a knife from the nearby table. “I’d like to talk about the death of my father.” Matt smiled. “I’m especially interested in who’s responsible for it.”
The End