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“Time to choose, Daredevil. One innocent life or the whole of Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Stop this, you sadistic son of a bitch.”
Daredevil’s growl was rougher than ever, but Foggy could hear the desperation under it. So could the guy standing over him, by the gutteral chuckle and the way he ground the barrel of his gun harder into Foggy’s temple.
“Ah, but you’re the one who can stop it. Just pick one, and this will all be over. What’s a little more blood on your hands?”
Foggy shuddered at the open glee in his voice. This was going to destroy Matt, and the evil bastard was enjoying it. For the thousandth time, Foggy wished he had a hand free. At least then he’d be able to do something stupid and take the choice out of Matt’s hands. He was no hero - he’d given up on being brave almost immediately after getting grabbed off the street - but he’d given up all hope of getting out of this as soon as they shoved him to his knees in front of Daredevil and put a gun to his head.
Between Foggy and saving the rest of Hell’s Kitchen? That was no choice at all.
He took a deep breath and let it steady his voice as much as it could. “Kind of a no-brainer there, wouldn’t you say? He’s the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, not my bodyguard.”
“What - what are you -”
“Come on, Daredevil,” Foggy managed, and oh God, he hoped the warm wetness sliding down his face was blood and not tears. Even if Matt couldn’t see him crying, he didn’t want to give the asshole with the gun the satisfaction. “Do what you’ve got to do.”
Matt’s face twisted under the mask, and Foggy could hear his breath hitch. “How can you - I can’t-”
“You can’t let everyone else die.” The words were surprisingly even and oddly freeing.
Matt shook his head fiercely, but he didn’t contradict what Foggy had said. He couldn’t.
“Is that your final answer?” asked the man with the gun, and Foggy ignored the way he was looming over him in favour of keeping his eyes on Matt. On Daredevil. If he had to die here, at least he’d take that last sight with him.
Daredevil slowly straightened, squaring his shoulders and tipping his head to the side. “Actually, I thought I’d take a third option.”
Foggy wasn’t sure exactly what happened next - it all happened so fast - but he found himself tossed onto his side, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of him as people shouted and bodies hit the floor behind him. He reflexively hunched into as small a ball as he could, desperately hoping he wouldn’t get kicked, or shot, or worse. A loud clang drew his eyes to the side, and he stared uncomprehendingly at the red, white, and blue disc slowly spinning itself flat to the floor. And then there were hands on his shoulders and he was being dragged into a hard, desperate embrace.
“Foggy. Foggy! Oh thank God.” Matt’s voice was a frantic, shaky chant in his ear.
Foggy gasped and leaned gratefully into the solid warmth of Matt’s body, crying in earnest now and too overcome to speak. He only moved when Matt finally managed to free his hands and then only to wrap his arms around Matt in turn.
Matt just clutched him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head as he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m sorry - I couldn’t - Foggy, I couldn’t -”
Foggy swallowed his tears and forced a reply out of his clogged throat. “Of course you couldn’t. Whole city to think of. I get it.”
Matt pulled away just enough to shake his head before pressing close again. “You’re not listening! I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let them hurt the city again, no. But I couldn’t give you up. Not you. How could you ever think I would?”
Foggy licked his lips and let the sour smell of too many sleepless hours and too much stale coffee on Matt’s breath convince him that this was real. “But how could you-?”
“I couldn’t. So I asked for help.”
Oh. That explained the shield, Foggy belatedly realized.
It wasn’t as if Matt didn’t know how to get a hold of the Avengers. Daredevil was strictly a street-level vigilante, and he wanted nothing to do with the crazy messes the Avengers routinely handled. But there’d been a few chance encounters, and they’d offered a secure line of communication in case of emergency. Foggy had to blink new tears away at the knowledge that he apparently counted as an emergency.
But if the Avengers had come along for the rescue...
Foggy very carefully did not lift his head from Matt’s shoulder. “So, uh. We’re totally making a spectacle of ourselves right now, aren’t we?”
“Oh so very much, yes,” Matt laughed wetly into his ear, but he didn’t seem in any rush to let go. “And just you wait until they start telling you about the meltdown I had when I called them. Maybe then you’ll realize that you matter.”
To hell with dignity, Foggy decided, giving into the urge to cling and keep blubbering into Matt’s shoulder. This was worth embarrassing himself in front of Captain America. (Matt was worth everything, but he’d save that train of thought for later.)