Matt Murdock finds a savior in the church but it’s not who he expects.
Inspired by the song I’ll be good - Jaymes Young
18+ Alcohol abuse, death, drug use, Emeto triggers. Born again season one spoilers
This is me trying to manifest angsty Matt moments for season 2 of Born Again. Also me playing detective about what leads up to the scene in the previews where Jess says “I’m not carying you.” Although while writing this i debunked my own theory with continuity issues. Oh well. It’s a good read anyway i hope. Also I’m just glad I got this out before the next season.
There were about four sips left in the 20 ounce bottle of Irish whiskey on the floor beside Matt Murdoch. He struggled upright burping slightly and reached down beside the church bench to grab it.
Closing his eyes he focused on the burn on the back of his tongue, and the sensation of the drink whirling down his throat and into his stomach. The sound of whisky percolating inside him provided a distraction.
This tactic was something Matt had been using for the last few days. Chugging coffee, eating things that he knew would disagree with him to try to make the physical internal sounds of his body drown out the ones in his head
The space above him twisted as Matt stretched out in the church pew, one hand on his disoriented stomach trying to focus all of his senses on the gurgling. Maybe this was a bad idea. But the inevitable hangover would still pale in comparison to his current mental hellscape.
Every time he closed his eyes he heard it all again. Karen’s panicked breath, Foggy’s fading heart beat, and the sickening thump of Benjamin’s body.
Maybe he could drown it out. Maybe another pull at the bottle would make it go away. But he was allready feeling pretty drunk. This wasn’t even his first drink today.
They called it a “celebration of life.” Matt sure as hell wasn’t celebrating, neither was anyone who had the pleasure of knowing Franklin Foggy Nelson.
The night he lost his best friend Matt went home and cried himself sick. For two days he didn’t attempt to eat. His abdominals hurt from every direction. His head throbbed which made chewing a pain. His throat seized when he tried to swallow.
Josie’s funeral potatoes were the first solid thing Matt had eaten in three days. Even then he didn’t finish his single helping. The cold potatoes sunk into the empty void inside him. He felt sick which seemed to be his natural state for the last three days.
Matt sat alone nursing a beer and trying to stay invisible. But the smell of bad perfume and waxy makeup found him.
“I’m so sorry.” Marcy whispered as she embraced him in a hug he couldn’t reciprocate.
“M-Me too.” Matt murmured.
“I just- I keep telling myself it isn’t real.”
Matt listened to the metal sliding over Marcey’s skin. She still wore her engagement ring. At least one of them could keep a promise to Foggy.
“Yeah.” Matt swallowed. If he could be anywhere else in the world right now it would be in a box six feet underground. A place so secluded even God couldn’t disturb him.
Normally Matt would make a joke. Something to the effect of “don’t know haven’t seen her.” But not tonight.
“Excuse me.” Matt stood and began searching for the exit.
But was immediately intercepted by Mrs.Nelson. “Oh Matty” she whimpered as she pulled him in for an embrace. The odd combination of mothballs, lunch meat, fake flowers and lots of wine was overwhelming to say the least.
There was enough salt in the air from tears Matt could taste it. The saline on his tongue, the corners of his mouth, he could taste the blush that smelled like old crayons and the mascara blotted in a salty tissue.
“We had this made for you.” She sniffled and slipped a small piece of cardstock into Matt’s hand. He instantly recognized the prayer under his thumb, the name on the card “Franklyn Foggy Nelson” and the haunting date range 30 years ago to three days ago.
Matt couldn’t speak. He could only hug her and press the moisture on his cheeks into her shoulder.
“You’re in our prayers.” She whispered.
Matt wanted to say something. Apologize, truly apologize for allowing the murder of her son. He wanted to tell her he wished it was him instead. It should have been him. But when he opened his mouth nothing came out. So he just squeezed her hand.
All of this happened two hours ago and Matt could still smell the church candles and snotty tissues. The voices still echoed in the church corridors and his own heart beat thunked absently.
Finally the vertigo was taking over. Matt almost wanted to personify it. Ask it “what took you so long?” He could hardly feel the next swig of whisky caress his tongue.
The alcohol bubbling in his stomach made him feel just as queasy as the guilt. But not queasy enough. He needed a distraction, a swirling darkness that would force him to focus on the present to keep from toppling over. Atleast the looming hangover would hurt badly enough to distract him.
He cast out his senses searching for any distraction. He found voices of nuns down stairs, of men and women passing by outside. Clamouring foot steps of priests, confessions he tried not to over hear. And the familiar agonizing ring of a combat boot on a marble floor.
“I hope you can walk because I’m not carrying you.” Jess said from the doorway.
Matt forced himself upright with a groan and pitched forward.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking his time to focus on maintaining some semblance of balance.
“Get your Lilly ass up and I’ll explain.” Jess said sharply
“Guh - you know this is a church right?” Matt hiccuped.
“Do you?” Jess asked. Matt could hear her foot on top of the bottle of Irish whisky. Barely a slosh remained inside but he heard a suctioning sound and Jesse’s throat moving to collect any remaining liquid.
“You-you here to try to me get over it like every body else?” He swallowed.
“Hell no. Keep wallowing in self pity, it works for you. But doing it without dignity is my shtick, not yours.”
Matt held his head in his hands. Her voice was grating. And frankly he didn’t understand how self pity could be accomplished without sacrificing his dignity.
Right now he really didn’t want to think anyway. Suffocating sounded pretty good, or concussive trauma anything but comprehension.
“Get your ass up Murdock!” Jess said again.
This time Matt complied nearly stumbling into her. She handed him the cane he had left leaning against the isle.
The inebriated lawyer put all of his weight on the cane causing it to nearly slip out from under him. It was as if all of the vertigo and nausea was simply waiting for him to try to stand on his own. A sickly burp rose in his throat and he swallowed it back down.
“Are you really gonna puke in a church?” Jess asked mockingly.
“Nuh. M’okay” Matt found his head on Jesse’s shoulder but he was so drunk that the smell on her blended with his own.
Jess rolled her eyes and Matt winced at the sound it made.
Had he ever been this drunk before?
Maybe once or twice. He recalled one time specifically shortly after he and Foggy established avocados at law.
Matt was no frat boy but he didn’t mind a good party once in a while. Especially when the company was mostly female. And the club wasn’t so bad. Atleast it had some quiet booths tucked away from everything.
As a future attorney he practiced charisma like religion. But he became flustered when it came to anything having to do with alcohol.
He did have one advantage and that was an ability to smell the ingredients in the drinks around him. But even then with so many different cocktails it became confusing.
“What do you have that tastes…natural?” Matt asked.
The smitten bartender thought for a moment. “Vermouth?”
Another bartender confirmed “yea vermouth is a good one.”
“Vermouth it is.” Matt snapped trying to be as upbeat as his surroundings.
The drink was…spicy…floral…hard to describe. If he concentrated he could pick out the chamomile, wormwood, coriander, maybe a trace of vanilla. And when he focused on these individual elements it went down much easier. Too easily.
Matt was on his starting his second drink when Foggy found him. “Hey buddy I need a wing man.”
“Oh yea?” Matt chuckled. “You want me to stand there and play Cyranose Deborgiac?”
“What?” Foggy was confused.
Matt sighed “Remember the movie Roxane?”
“Oh!” Foggy laughed. “No there’s two of them. You start flirting with one and I’ll intercept the other.”
“Intercept?” Matt lifted an eyebrow coolly.
“You know… just whatever… go do your sexy blind guy thing.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Foggy huffed. “That thing you do where you look all confused and sad. The girls love it.”
“You’re drunk.” Matt dismissed.
“Tell you what.” Foggy said. “You do this and the next round is on me.”
Matt tried to recall what happened next as he clung to Jess’s arm more desperately than he wanted to admit.
The rest of that night at the club was a blur. With the exception of three distinct memories.
The first was the quiet corner where he sat with his empty glass. His self awareness was long gone and now he just felt sort of imaginary.
“There you are!” Foggy said, sliding into the booth beside him.
“Yup ~hic~ it’s me.” Matt tilted his head as though his smile was heavy. “Hello!” He leaned back in his seat giggling a little.
“How many of those have you had?” Asked one of the girls Matt had some how introduced to Foggy earlier.
Matt held up a finger and closed one eye in calculation. Nobody saw behind his shades of course but the gesture was apparent. “Definitely more than three.” He said drawing in a breath and licking the vermouth from his lips.
“And did I mention he’s a genius at math?” Foggy asked.
That memory was slightly clearer than the last memory he had of the club.
Matt was now laying down in the booth covering his nose with his wrists. The smell of alcohol, weed, sweat, someone had been sick in the bathroom. A moldy fry lay rotting in some corner.
The next thing Matt knew Foggy’s hand was on his shoulder. “Hey man you okay?” He shouted over the base.
Matt put one arm on the table to help himself into a sitting position. “Umm… I dunno…” he said sluggishly. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Yea you don’t look so good either.” That was the last thing Foggy said before Matt puked on his shoes.
Matt still didn’t have a stomach for alcohol. Only now he was doubled over in alleyway throwing up alone.
Well not entirely alone. Jess stood at the corner with her hood up and eyes averted.
“You done?” She asked coldly.
Matt grunted and cleared his throat. “Guh~ for now.” he panted. Leaning against the wall he let out a breathy moan. “Sorry.”
“Cool your sleeping in the bathroom tonight.”
Matt didn’t have it in him to argue.
There was one last memory from that night with foggy.
Some how they made it back to the dorm. Matt collapsed in bed while foggy took a shower. And when foggy came out of the bathroom Matt was on the floor clutching the corner of his mattress.
“Remem-ber how I told you about the…” Matt’s throat felt heavy as he spoke so he decided to finish his sentence with a brief gesture.
Foggy didn’t need to see Matt’s drunken hands flopping around to understand.
“Spins? Yea I know buddy. You feeling them now?”
“Uh huh.” Matt groaned. “Fog I think I’m gonna be sick again.”
He pressed his head into the mattress trying to keep the world still.
In a panic Foggy thrust the waste basket in front of Matt who almost missed. “Oh God Fog…” Matt groaned and pitched forward head first into the waste basket.
“You’re okay man. I’m here.”
The voice echoed in Matt’s titanium skull as he lifted it off the toilet seat. But there was nobody there. Hell he didn’t even know what Jess wanted him for.
“A blood sample?” Matt grimaced.
“Don’t tell me the man without fear is scared of needles.” Jess said dryly.
“I’m too hungover for this.” He groaned.
“They’re cracking down on Mutants.” Jess’s voice held a note of foreboding. “Your powers don’t turn on and off Matt we have to prove you don’t have the gene.”
“Do i at least get saltines or something?” Matt scoffed. He was still woozy from the night before and was only half joking.
“Does this look like communion to you?” Jess retorted.
“What about the ones who do have it?” Matt’s tone shifted. “We just let Fisk have his way with them?”
“Can you stop him?” Jess asked.
Matt closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not alone.”
