#maybe tmrw after i get some sleep i will have proper thoughts though...

[crescentfool]

p3 reload box art + the art book cover!

[powertobehandsome]

The Way I See It || Matt and Seth

Part three for you. @blindlyburning​

"Elektra Natchios? She and Matt used to date in college. From what I understand, she really broke his heart or something, but I don't know why it's so important for him to know she's back in town... good riddance to her, basically. He was such a wreck. Like he's Matt, so he was pretty good at not showing it, but I mean, I saw through his shit."

"Naturally. I've... been there with the man who hides the emotions but you're the best friend so you can see through it." He smiled and started to relax.

"What kind of name is Elektra? Like... that alone sounds like a nightmare."

Fun. Seth was trying to... what? Get close with his lawyer while in the middle of this? And now the heartbreaking ex-girlfriend was back. Great.

"Right? She's all gorgeous too. Like supervillain gorgeous. I wish..." Foggy huffed, took another bite of heaven, and continued a minute later. "At least you'll be there. He seems to really like you, and I bet having someone nice around will help him not... slip back into Elektra-land."

"Of course she's gorgeous. The super-villains always are." Seth, for the first time in what felt like months, thought of Summer. She was no Villain. She had done some great things for his self-confidence. But maybe she was a lower case villain. Because recovering from her leaving had taken far longer than he cared to admit.

"Sure, though. Maybe I can read him bedtime stories and cook him a meal for once. Ryan only really works with a grille. He's the ultimate outdoor cook. Me? Not so much. I like ovens and processors and that kind of thing."

Matt didn't get back until almost five thirty. When he walked in, he stopped, sensing the somewhat tense mood of the place. His hand gripped his cane reflexively before he made himself hang it on a hook.

"Somebody die?"

"Mnnnnn. This cop's got shitty handwriting."

Matt frowned, then shook his head. "It's fine."

"Fine? This is embarrassing even to read."

"So don't read it."

"Bite me, Murdock." Foggy groaned and looked up. "How'd it go?"

Matt's smile was secretive for a moment before he spilled. "They dropped all charges."

"What? HELL YES! Officially?"

"Officially." Matt tossed him a manila packet, then turned to Seth. "You and Ryan are free to go anytime."

Foggy was flipping pages. "This is incredible. Yes. Yesssss. I knew the one-two of me with photos and you with your creepy, stubborn, eloquent ass would work."

"Bull."

Foggy flipped him off, too happy to even get into the verbal sparring. "Too bad we can't go after the guys that did this. They shut that down nicely.. but whatever. Freedom for the good guys! Seth, where's your better half at? We gotta tell him the good news!"

"He is on his way back from JFK with our luggage. Since... well, since this all seems to be over..." You'll probably want us out of your house. "If you'd like to discuss your fee, we'll get that to you before I leave here."

He text Ryan the address, who responded with a simple:

>> What are the plans tonight?

And Seth locked his screen without replying. He'd hear soon enough.

"On top of your fee, since you didn't get to charge us for going to trial, I would like to buy you both drinks tonight. I insist. It's the least I can do for all that you've done.”

"You can mail a check if that's easier," Foggy shrugged. "Karen will make the bill up when she comes in tomorrow. Drinks sound --"

"Like a terrible idea for someone with your injuries and on prescription painkillers," Matt interjected. "But if you want to stay a while -- I'm sure flying will be needlessly painful -- maybe we can do drinks in a few days. I mean not that you have to stay, but... the company is nice. And I don’t want to stick you on a plane until you’re actually ready. This isn’t a client thing.. it's a friend thing."

"Oh. No. We'd planned on staying at least a week. And I... was offering to buy drinks. Not to drink them myself. I'm not suicidal." He shrugged at Foggy and then looked back at Matt.

It wasn't his place to bring down the room, and he thought the mention of the man who'd made an appearance, and the message he'd delivered, might do just that, so Seth stuck to happier things. "But you're sure? Will you let me at least buy groceries? Something? You've done so much."

"You can buy groceries," Matt agreed, grinning. "But you've got to let me cook."

"Matt we should go out tonight though, celebrate! If Ryan votes go, it'll be three to one, and you can suck it."

Something seemed off with Seth, Matt thought, and felt a sliver of worry. "Okay... Seth, you okay?"

"Tired," he replied softly, his smile was genuine. "You should have a bagel. I ordered too many. And though your partner and I put a decent dent in what was delivered, there are still more to go around."

He didn't know why he felt uneasy, honestly. Maybe it was just the exhaustion. The pills. The pain that riddled him from armpit to hip. Well. With the lucky addition of his face, too.

"And, while I hope he'll agree, Ryan might try to err on the side of reason. The little shit."

The door opened just then.

"Someone say my name?" Ryan smiled, lugging two duffle bags and a suitcase. 

"Seth invited us out for drinks and you're the swing vote," Foggy explained, and went to help him with the luggage. "Celebration thing, since the charges are all dropped."

Matt got a plain bagel and sat down to tear at pieces of it. He rolled his chair over to be near Seth, feeling a strange need to just be close. "Everything go okay, Ryan?"

"Completely? That's awesome. Yeah. Let's... I would like to go out. If Seth is up for it. We have money. Still no cards, of course. But those... I asked that they be delivered here. Is that okay? They said it would be about three days. But we have clothes and we can finally get out of Matt's hair."

"Actually, he's invited us to stay. Surprising, I know. Since nobody can sleep with your train charging through the living room."

"Bite me."

"I prefer things a bit more kosher."

Ryan was smiling and rolled his eyes, looking at Foggy as he happily reached for a bagel. "I see Seth called Sandy for lunch. The Cohens never take bagels lightly."

Reaching out toward Matt, Ryan alerted him of the returning of his phone, thanked him again for it, and then settled back against the wall. "So, you two know the city. Where are we having dinner?"

Foggy had just gone for another bagel as well, and at the last question, he and Matt asked in unison: "Isn't this dinner?"

Foggy stared at Matt for a minute, then laughed. "You guys didn't hear that. I swear we aren't married. You heard nothing. And there's a pretty good kosher diner down the block, if that'd work?"

Foggy sent Seth a text while talking: 'pls dnt be mad. I dnt want 2 tell him 2nite. Will upset him. Want him to have a good nite. Will tell tmrw. K?'

"I was just joking. Literally any food is more kosher than biting Ryan."

"An no. Bagels do not constitute as dinner. Find a pub. Cheese fries. Hamburgers. Beer and whiskey. Seth can be our designated driver."

"I'm high on pain meds."

"We'll get an uber."

Seth smiled then, nodding. "Would... would it be too much to ask for a little nap before we opt for anything dealing with the outside world? I'll set an alarm. I promise it'll only be an hour or two. Just enough to recharge."

Ryan looked to the other two for confirmation. He didn't care either way. He figured they were all full on bagels for the time being anyway. "You nap. I have freedom. And I want a proper, double decker bus tour through the city."

Seth wasn't even listening, but he nodded all the same. Instead he looked at his phone.

>> It's not my place. He's your best friend. You know what is best for him. But... if we somehow run into her tonight, or your friend Andrew, be prepared to lie your ass off.

>>matt sucks at lying but I passed that class in lawyer school. Thanks Seth. I appreciate you.

Once it was decided to go home for a while first, they went. Foggy went with them to Matt's place, wanting to help with the luggage, and he gave them a friendly goodbye when he headed back out, already trying to decide what to wear and where to take them.

Matt seemed glad to be home. "You guys both napping?" He asked. "Or are you going out to be free right now, Ryan? You should still try to stay wary of your surroundings if you do. Just... a New York thing."

>> I know he does.

"I'm going out. Only taking enough money for the tour. They last about an hour or two. Go down to Brooklyn. Up to Wall Street. They show you were the soup nazi kitchen was from Seinfeld..."

"Dude, you're such a tourist."

"And you're a dick. But you're still my best friend. You guys enjoy your time. I'll text if there's any trouble."

With that and a wave at Seth, Ryan was lightly stepping out the door again.

Seth wrapped an arm around his ribs and moved to go sit on the couch. It didn't matter how comfortable the bed was, or that he'd shared it the night before, he still felt like he didn't have the unspoken right to go in there and sleep whenever he pleases.

"You... don't have to stay, if you have other things to do. But thank you, Matt. For whatever it was you did. You're quite literally a life saver. I owe you a lot."

"Literally just doing my job... and I was thinking that a nap sounds good actually. Would it be weird to share the bed again? It's yours as long as you're here, and if you don't want me there, I understand."

"I would rather you there," he replied, perhaps a bit too candidly. But Seth stood again, and then worked to catch his breath as he walked back to the bedroom.

"I don't understand how it all just went away."

"It's mostly about who wants to be the biggest pain in the ass. The people who hurt you refused to come forward for whatever reason, and with the photos and medical reports on your injuries, it's pretty clear you were a victim. The prosecutors’ office knows that sometimes, police reports aren't... as accurate as they should be." He helped Seth to bed, then helped him undress to whatever level he wanted once they were there. "Basically... a lot of little things came together in our favor, and Foggy and I pushed on all of them as hard as we could."

His underwear was what he'd opted to sleep in, knowing now how warm the covers got in Matt's room, and he silently watched Matt help him get undressed, thankful for the kindness, for the help, for everything his new friend had done. It was too much, and Seth wanted to repay the kindness. Someday, maybe, he would.

Seth's eyelids became almost instantly heavy as he laid down in the bed shaped heaven, and he rolled to the comfortable, non-bruised side, slinking closer to Matt. For some reason, he felt the need to be close, to have some kind of contact, so he moved until his forehead was pressed up against the other man's shoulder. "Fuck. My phone. I was going to set an alarm."

Matt had stripped down to his boxers as well, and he reached back to very, very carefully stroke his fingers somewhere he knew was uninjured. "I'll wake us up in time," he promised. "Get some rest."

Seth dreamed a little, he thought, but by the time Matt woke him, he couldn't remember any of them. Some time in his sleep, he'd managed to scoot closer still, and thanks to the affection he'd received, he had draped an arm (and muttered something in his sleep about telling his hurt ribs to fuck off) over Matt's side.

Ryan returned about three hours later. He went straight for the couch and collapsed, figuring Seth would wake him too when it was time.

When Matt finally did wake him, tired, but happy eyes looked up. "Sorry," he whispered, pulling his arm free. "Thank you for the nap. I feel better."

"I'm glad. Are you sure you're up for going out, though? Do you need another day to rest?"

"I'm fine," he replied quietly, sleepily. "Besides, I'm not the one partying, remember. But Ryan and Foggy deserve a night out to celebrate. And today was a good day."

Seth looked at Matt for a long minute. "Are you okay, though? Today was only legal business? Your bruise from last night is pretty subtle. More so than I would have expected. I'm impressed."

"Strictly legal," he promised, then stretched with a quiet, pleased sounding little moan. "And you're right. They deserve some fun. But if it gets to be too much for you, tell me and we'll call it a night, okay?"

"As you wish," Seth replied a little playfully, and then finally had to make himself pull away with the reminder that this wasn't his boyfriend, and he needed to get his shit together.

When he was finally up and dressed in his own clothes from his bag, Seth went to get Ryan. "I'm gonna take pills. You get up."

Ryan groaned, nodded, and then sat up in a rush. He looked at Seth's mess of curls and smiled sweetly. His dumb brother was too good for this world. "Any word from Foggy on where we're going?"

Matt shook his head and got dressed, then called Foggy, who answered with a ridiculous amount of energy.

"Hey!  So let's take them to Josie's! I know it's a dive and a half but the food doesn't suck and c'mon, Matt, Josie's!"

"Okay," Matt agreed, smiling. Ever since they'd added food options at Josie's bar, Foggy had been addicted -- when they could pay. "Half an hour?"

"You bet your blind ass, Matty-boy!" Foggy hung up.

It felt good to hear him so happy, Matt thought. Foggy needed this sort of thing. "Looks like we're going to Josie's.. Foggy's second favorite place on earth. It's a shitty bar, but surprisingly safe."

"Sounds perfect," Ryan replied, and Seth hummed his agreement. It would be fun, they were both sure of it.

Seth walked over to where the Western Union envelope was placed and thumbed through the bills. He knew if they'd just gone to a bank to pick up the cash from their own accounts, things would have been fine. But at the time, they were being as low key as possible.

By time they were all ready to leave, most of Seth's pain and quiet resolve had dissipated. "Ready? Let's go get you three drunk and happy."

"Two of them, anyway," Matt said, smiling. From there, it wasn't long until Foggy was giving all of them hugs in the doorway to Josie's, although his hug for Seth was more of a delicate pat than anything else.

The bar was sleazy, but the drinks were strong and the food surprisingly good. Matt slowly worked on just one drink and didn't partake in the food, but he seemed very happy to be there with them. He stayed close to Seth all evening -- unless Seth indicated he didn't want him there. Matt told himself that the nearness was in order to help Seth if he needed it, but the truth was that he felt happier and more at ease when they were close enough to touch.

Eventually, Foggy tried to entice the others into a game of pool. Matt had been loving all the warm interactions, but the pool worried him. "Maybe Seth should sit this out... Seth, come be a wallflower with me, tell me how the game goes?"

Playing pool definitely wasn't an option. Not with the leaning and stretching across the table. But he liked the idea of going over and sitting beside Matt anyway.

He leaned, whispering in Matt's ear against the steady buzz of the bar noise. "As if you can't hear each play better than I can see them," he teased, brushing against Matt's shoulder, and lifting his glass of ice water to his lips.

"So, I fly to New York... Foggy is stripes. He sunk one on the break; I'm convinced it was pure luck... the airline sent my luggage to Georgia. I had to wait two days to get it.... Ryan sunk two, but he scratched on the second, so it's Foggy's play... I figure my luck surely can't get much worse, considering my layover in Indiana was four hours, and then another delay because of plane maintenance. So Ryan and I go out for drinks... Foggy and Ryan both missed, but Foggy made one... no. Shit. Three, before missing... Then I got too drunk. Got beat up, then arrested. And you came to the rescue warning me that I fucked with the wrong people and all that... led me here. And I hurt. And I feel like I've been high for days, but I don't regret any of it. I'm happy to be here."

Seth's whispers made Matt shiver in a familiar, sensual way he'd only ever experienced with one person. His lips parted a little as he listened, but it wasn't the words that drew him in so much as the sound of Seth's voice and the little clinks of the ice every time he moved his glass. He liked the smell of his skin, even the traces of blood and drugs, because Matt could practically taste Seth's body healing, and that was a nice thing. Seth was nice. He was awkward and strange sometimes, but who wasn't?  And none of that mattered. He was too nice, too sweet, too good seeming for any of that to matter -- and that was when Matt realized he was definitely forming a crush on Seth... a crush Seth probably didn't mind.

So much for being straight. The realization was a little frightening at first. Matt wasn't sure how to process it or if he was even okay with it -- but did his acceptance really matter? Either way, Seth was here and making Matt feel wanted, and Matt wanted him to feel the same.

"You give an excellent narration," he replied during a pause, his whisper very low and a little gravelly, lips ghosting against Seth's ear. "I can hear them, but can't see the colors or the numbers.. and I like listening to you." He touched his forehead to the side of Seth's head for a brief moment, then turned his attention back towards the game and put his arm around Seth, mindful of his hurts.

"And I'm glad you're here, too. I wish it was under better circumstances... but I'm still glad."

Seth's lips parted to allow a slow, shaky intake of breath to pass through. His stomach twisted in a way that felt much different than nausea as he felt Matt's whispers against his ear. His eyes closed when Matt's head rested against his. Seth smiled.

The arm around his shoulders was welcome, and Seth inched just a little closer, wanting to lean in to rest wholly against Matt, but opted to keep things casual for the time being, just in case Matt was wary about Foggy or Ryan getting too interested too quickly.

Seth continued to narrate the game, including when Foggy sank the eight ball. "Unfortunately it wasn't the pocket he'd called out. So Ryan technically won," Seth said, smiling and taking a moment to look at Matt while the game wasn't actively being played.

"Would you like another drink?"

"No, I'm..." in a heartbeat, Matt's entire demeanor changed. He stiffened and seemed to shut off his warmth and humanity at once, despite not moving, and he turned his head towards the door.

The men who'd attacked the boys had just walked in, looked around, and headed for them.

Matt stood up and grabbed his cane.

Foggy looked up and then over at Ryan in question.

"You friends with these guys?" The leader -- who was the only one that hadn't been there for the attack -- asked Matt.

Foggy quickly moved up to stand next to his partner. "We're their lawyers," he said, and didn't seem half as drunk as he had a few minutes ago.

"If you're here for trouble," Matt started to say, but the leader shushed at him.

"I'm not going to start trouble with a blind man. I'm Hector Ramirez. My parents raised me better than that. No. We have something to say to Cohen and Atwood. Just words."

Matt looked tense, but he nodded. "Okay. Ryan. Seth. You mind coming over here?"

Though he looked like shit, and he was more frightened than he cared to admit, Seth exchanged a glance with Ryan using his one good eye.

Ryan had expected Seth to follow him up, stand right behind his shoulder, as he normally did when they were faced with a potential fight. But this time, Seth stood a little closer to Matt, looking like he was a little more his partner in crime than he was Ryan's.

Meanwhile, Seth had to bite his cheek to keep from running his mouth. He was sober. And these guys could clearly beat the shit out of him.

"I think whatever message you have to deliver was done by your lackeys the last time we met," Ryan said, nodding at Seth. "What is it you want?"

"To offer my apologies," Ramirez said. "What they did was unconscionable. I am sorry. We are trying to make Hell's Kitchen a safer community, and attacking guests is a terrible way to do that. Please. Accept my apologies, my assurances that no further harm will come to you from my people... and my gratitude for the discretion of your lawyers. I will handle discipline privately with these men. We do not assault people here -- and we do not commit gay bashing."

Matt took a small step forward, stunned by what he was hearing, because Ramirez seemed to be telling the truth. "Are you serious?"

"I am. This isn't going to be the beginning of any vendetta. We won't do that here. Your clients are safe. You are safe. We only kill our enemies in Hell's Kitchen, my friend -- and these two men are not enemies."

Foggy wished he was a little more sober, because he had to be hallucinating.

Seth and Ryan looked at each other in surprise. This wasn't at all what they had been expecting. A fight. A warning to stay out of their clubs. A threat that Seth wouldn't be so lucky next time.

But an apology.

Seth was willing to let things go. He wanted to enjoy the rest of their time in New York. He wanted to enjoy the rest of their night.

But Ryan wasn't so easily swayed.

"Yeah? You gonna have your guys pay for the hospital bills? How about the pain pills he has to take because he can't hardly move without them?"

"Ryan, let it go. He said he wanted peace. The whole thing is over. Let's just start up another game."

"No. Because you can't play a game. Because your fucking rib is cracked."

"I know. I know it is. But I just want this to be over." Seth reached out to put a hand on Ryan's shoulder, who jerked free of his touch. "Ryan, please."

Finally Ryan looked at Seth, still fuming. But his gaze shifted to Foggy, and then Matt. Eventually, he nodded. "Fine. But when you next want to call your dad and tell him how great the world is, how nice your time in New York was, don't forget to tell him you were the victim of a hate crime. I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing the story."

Ramirez listened and watched Ryan until he was done. He smiled then and held his arms out to his sides.

"It is not enough? I see. You come from California where everything is fair. Where everyone is paid. It is not enough for you to escape with your lives, to be given an assurance of safety that you clearly don't want."

Matt shifted so as to stay between Ramirez and the Californians, but his heart was already sinking.

"Okay. I take back the apology, Ryan Atwood. One should never give a gift that isn't wanted. But I'll give you one more, a lesson: sometimes, drunken men do stupid things and nobody pays. Sometimes, sober men do things that are laughed at. The world? Not a fair place. Lawyers cannot fix everything for you. They cannot always get you money. Sometimes, all the lawyers can get... is killed.

"You'll go home tonight, Seth Cohen and Ryan Atwood. Because if we see you in New York again... it's a dangerous city.

"You got what you wanted now."

Seth’s heart fell to his stomach and effectively made him nauseous. Ryan’s temper had never been a good thing. And while what the men had done was unforgivable, there were certain instances where he should just know when to let things go. It was a lesson he had never learned. And, it seemed, one which was likely to get them killed before they made it out of the city.

“It is a dangerous city, and though you may believe otherwise…”

“Ryan.”

“You don’t own it.”

Seth grabbed Ryan by the arm and pulled him around to face him. “Will you fucking knock it off. I know you were uninjured in the fight that happened the other day. But I already fucking feel like death. I get it, you’re pissed. I’m pissed. But he came looking for peace and now you’ve essentially turned that olive branch into a pistol.”

Ryan pulled his arm free of Seth’s grasp, spared one more glare in the direction of the Ramirez, and then moved back to the pool table, inserting another couple quarters to release the balls for another game.

Seth didn’t apologize for his friend. It was clear, he hoped, that he didn’t stand in the same position, but he knew Ryan was angry for Seth, and so to speak out against him, or to apologize for him would feel like a betrayal Ryan didn’t deserve. So Seth moved back to where he had been sitting beside Matt before the others arrived, knowing in his gut that they would likely be shot while leaving the bar tonight.

“I know you don’t approve but…”

“No, Ryan. No ‘but.’ These men put me in the hospital. And we don’t have a weapon in this fight. Literally. So all you’re doing is waving the fucking red cape at the raging bull and asking me to stand behind it. I wanted a week of tourism and shopping.”

“You don’t expect me to apologize for standing up for you, do you?”

“Is that what you were doing?” Seth looked down at his glass of water, his eyes following a drop of condensation along the outside of the glass as it gathered with the rest of the drops at the wet ring at the base. “Play your game or let’s get out of here.” Seth turned his attention to Matt and Foggy. “I’m sorry. For whatever trouble that just caused the two of you. I’m so sorry.”

Matt had stayed put while Ryan and Seth wandered off. Ramirez was still there, watching, and Matt could feel satisfaction rolling off him. Ramirez would have honored his word, Matt thought -- and now he would honor this one.

"It's too bad," Ramirez murmured and patted Matt on the cheek.

"Don't touch me." Matt slapped his hand away.

"I won't have to." He nodded to his crew and they left. He was the last out the door. As for Matt, he seemed rooted in place, hands tight around his cane.

Everyone else in the bar avoided looking at them.

Foggy took his phone out.

"Don't bother," Matt said. "You know the police won't help. Especially not us."

"Then who will? Matt? We can't exactly get in a gun battle or whatever with an entire gang! In case you didn't notice!" Foggy wasn't sure whether he was more frightened or angry, but decided it didn't matter. "We need help. Maybe the cops..."

"We both know exactly how this will play out." Matt's voice had become a growl. Finally, he moved. He went and got his jacket and pulled it on. For a moment, he stood still, between Ryan and Seth, and then he shook his head without a word. He couldn't disagree with what Ryan had said, no matter how naive it had been. Ryan had an angry passion for justice, it seemed, and Matt could understand that.

Matt headed for the door.

"Matt! Where are you going?"

"Home. Make sure they get back safely, Foggy. Goodnight."

The door shut behind him.

And now, as if the certainty of his own impending death wasn’t enough, as Seth watched Matt exit the bar, he stood, winced, and considered trying to run after him. He was worried. Anxious. He had read plenty, heard plenty of stories about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And he had no doubt that Matt was every bit that man and more. And so, as he left in a huff, Seth wondered if he was really going home, or if he was going to make sure they could leave the bar without being attacked.

Speaking of which, Seth didn’t know what to do. Leaving was dangerous. And even though the entire bar had heard Ramirez threaten their lives, he doubted their deaths would even warrant questioning of that man and his gang. Ryan was impossible to reason with right now, and he likely wouldn’t be approachable for the rest of the night. Still, he racked another round and didn’t give Foggy the option to break, but when none of the balls actually made it into a pocket, he stepped back and rested the butt of the stick on the ground, his head hanging low.

Seth looked at Foggy. “You are not obligated to play with him. My friend and brother is a moron. But, this is also his olive branch to you. You’ve done a lot for he and I, and he’s not so good at the ‘sorrys.’”

“I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“You put our new friends in danger. You better fucking be sorry.”

Ryan looked up to meet Foggy’s eyes, and though his pride wouldn’t let him say it, his eyes admitted his remorse.

“I’ll call an uber whenever you two are ready to leave.” Let’s just hope it’s not one of the gang members who answers the call.

"Something tells me we should... finish the game," Foggy said, his voice a little tight. His vision blurred and he reached up to wipe quickly at it, then took his stick back up. He set up a shot and froze in place, ready to take it -- but he couldn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his head hang.

"Matt's gonna die, Seth. I know you know... it. He's gonna die. If he... stays home alone." His voice was so quiet that he wasn't sure either of them would hear it. Hell, he wasn't sure he wanted them to. He straightened up after a moment, looking pale, and took his phone out again. "Andrew? Hey. Um. It's Foggy. Look. If you. You can get hold of Elektra. Matt needs her. Right now.... yeah.... no we're in a bar. He left. Josie's. Yeah. No." Foggy sounded on the verge of tears, or maybe like he was going to be sick. "She'll understand. Please tell her." When he hung up, he hurried away to the bathroom where he was promptly sick.

A few minutes later he came out, having rinsed his mouth and washed his face. He still looked pale, but this time he took a shot.

"Lucky thirteen," he said quietly, when the thirteen plopped in.

Seth had heard him. Ryan was too busy taking a deep pull from his glass of whiskey, treating it much more like a shot than the slowly sipped on glass it was supposed to be. Seth had heard him, but he didn’t know what to do. He was less help to Matt in his condition than any of the others, and while his heart was aching and yeah, maybe he should go home… or, back to Matt’s home, he didn’t even know if Matt would be there. He didn’t know what to do.

When the Foggy returned and took the shot, Seth sat up straighter, his stomach twisting with uncertainty, and he waited for some sign, some suggestion on Foggy’s part. Ryan, however, had decided that getting drunk would be the best coping mechanism. He was brooding and silent, and every time he looked at someone, his eyes screamed that he was amping up for a fight. But Seth didn’t want it to come to that.

Ryan lost that game, horribly, and as when Foggy still had two balls left, Seth had put in an order for an uber, and he got the notification that the car was waiting outside just before Foggy sunk the eight ball.

“Right, well, our ride is here, and I think it’ll be better for all parties involved if we get out of the bar and just go somewhere quiet where we can lock the doors.” He wanted to find Matt. He wanted to make sure he was okay. And while Seth had no idea that Foggy had tried to reach out for Elektra, Seth prayed that there had been someone on Matt’s side who could help him in whatever it was he was trying to do.

Ryan swayed as he leaned against the pool stick, but he eventually nodded and -- with several attempts -- stuck it back in its place on the wall. Seth pulled cash from his wallet and closed out their tab, leaving a more than generous tip for the trouble they’d caused. And then he turned back to look at Foggy. “I think we should at least get out of here. Whatever that translates to for you, we’ll go along with. But I can’t… just sit still in here any longer.”

"We should go to Matt's..."

But gunshots drowned out whatever else Foggy was going to say. People screamed and ducked, but the bar seemed untouched.

Several more shots rang out and then a man screamed in agony, a sickening, blood-chilling cry.

Foggy curled up on the floor and prayed.

Bullets sprayed in through the glass.

There was another scream from outside. Shouting. More shots -- then silence.

Seth had ducked, like everybody else, crouched down so he was below a window, but he also crawled through the grime of the bar floor to the door.

Matt.

Was Matt out there? Was he safe? Had one of those cries been him?

Seth was about ready to run out the door — now that there had been silence — adrenaline muting out any pain he had, when he heard his name being called.

“Seth!”

When he looked back over his shoulder, just shy of pushing the door open to try and go out there, to make sure Matt wasn’t the one who had screamed out in pain, his eyes caught sight of Ryan, his face screwed up in agony, clutching at a slowly growing red stain on his lower abdomen. The words to describe what had just happened wouldn’t come to Seth’s mind, he couldn’t fathom them, couldn’t put them in the correct order. But the sight alone, and the knowledge, however incapable he was of putting it to words, of what had just happened to his best friend, to his brother, kept him inside the bar and running back in the direction of the pool tables.

Ryan slid to the floor, clutching the wound. Seth pulled out his phone and immediately called 911. “Yeah. We’re at a bar called Josie’s. There were gunshots outside. My… My brother’s been shot. In the abdomen.” Seth peeked around to look behind Ryan and then shook his head, as if answering a question. “It didn’t go all the way through.” He helped Ryan all the way down to the ground, laying on his back, hoping gravity would work in his favor and keep some of the blood inside Ryan’s body. “You fucking idiot,” he whispered to Ryan while dispatch alerted him that help was on the way. “You mother fucking idiot. You had to go and get yourself shot.”

Foggy crawled over to help with Ryan, too numb and horrified to actually think through any of this. He couldn't handle it, it was all too big, all too terrible, so he had to focus on just one thing. Just Ryan. Just Ryan and his blood.

He couldn't think about Matt. He couldn't even let himself start to wonder.

Just Ryan. Only Ryan.

----

At the hospital, Foggy couldn't leave. He looked like another sibling, too lost and worried to just be a friend or a lawyer. When they were finally allowed in, he sat numbly on one side, holding Ryan's hand, and he silently prayed. Please don't die. Please don't die. Oh my god, no. You're too young. Please don't die. We could be brothers. Please don't. Please don't.

Surgery had lasted too long, though with the touch and go situation, any length of time felt too long. Seth had tried to call Matt, but it had gone to voice mail.

“I know you’re… Fuck. Just let us know you’re alive. Tell me where to find you.”

The surgeon had assured them that Ryan, if he woke, should be through the worst of it. The bullet had hit a bone in Ryan’s hip, and they’d had to screw in a metal plate. He’d lost a lot of blood, but his blood type was O-, common enough. While Foggy sat and held Ryan’s hand, Seth paced. He was hours past the time he was supposed to take another pill, but he’d left them at Matt’s, figuring they would be back in time. The police came to talk to the guys after another hour. Luckily, they weren’t ones they’d dealt with earlier that week.

With as level of a head as he could manage, Seth explained to them the proceedings of what had happened not just that night, but that week. He said he had not seen a shooter, and could not flat out claim that it had been Ramirez, but he did share the threat that had been delivered. Seth left Matt out of it as much as possible, saying that he had left as soon as Ramirez had, and had gone home. He even claimed that he’d spoken with Matt on the phone just before he’d contacted the uber company — was the driver okay?

The cop told him they would be in touch, but to not go anywhere, not to go back home to California just yet, and they would keep him updated.

Seth returned to his seat by Ryan’s side, checking his phone.

He was distracted when Ryan opened his eyes, exhaled miserably, and then peeked down at Seth, who shook his head.

“What? I couldn’t let you continue to be the center of attention with your injuries. You know how much I like for things to be about me.”

“No. Ryan. That’s me. I’m the self-absorbed one. You’re the reckless, fighty, impulsive one. And you’re an idiot. But i’m glad you’re alive.” Seth squeezed Ryan’s hand, spared a hopefully reassuring — though still plenty worried — glance at Foggy, and then went to get the nurse.

Several hours later, a text message arrived from Matt:

>> am alive. Am safe. Can't join you at the hospital tonight. Will try tomorrow. End message.

Foggy was asleep in the chair by that point, completely unwilling to leave Ryan's side. A nurse had been in recently to check on Ryan, but things were generally quiet in the hospital -- until there came a very light tap on the door and it was pushed open by a young person.

He barely looked like he was out of his teens. Soft, dark curls framed a youthful and somewhat effeminate face, and he was dressed plainly, as if to purposefully offset his almost delicate beauty. Gray jeans, a tight gray shirt, and a dark gray denim jacket left him looking more like trash that had been swept off the street in the eighties than anything else.

"Sorry to intrude," he whispered. "Are you guys Andrew Gale's friends? He said you might need... someone to protect you." Although it seemed far too late for that, Montparnasse thought.

Seth read the message over and over again. He considered offering to go to Matt, but he needed to stay at Ryan’s side, and he knew this. But still, he hoped that Matt wasn’t injured and trying to treat himself. He didn’t question how Matt knew they’d gone to the hospital. That part of the message seemed less important. And Seth still didn’t know that Elektra had been contacted. So all he had left to do was worry. Not just about Ryan, but Matt too. As he read the message again, he considered waking Foggy just enough to give him the little bit of reassurance he might receive at knowing that Matt was alive. But Seth figured he would receive his own text message, so letting him sleep would be the kindest thing for now.

As the kid, for that’s the only word that really came to mind when he looked at the young man, entered the room and mentioned Gale’s name, Seth stared at him for a long moment, and then just gave one singular nod of affirmation. “Thanks,” he whispered, his throat full of gravel, and he shifted in his chair, holding his breath as he did, wishing he again had that same surge of adrenaline to down out the sharp jabs once more.

He didn’t know how this kid would protect them, but it seemed like a pointless conversation. Seth turned back to Ryan, leaned his head over the edge of the bed, and tried to sleep.

Both he and Foggy were woke at close to six the next morning.

“I’m sorry, boys, but during shift change in the ICU, when linens get changed and doctors make their rounds, we have to ask families to leave. Just for two hours. Then you’re welcome to come back. And hopefully he’ll be awake when you do.”

Montparnasse had been perched in the windowsill, and when those instructions came, he shook his head.

"Sorry. They can go, but I've got to stay." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a thin little badge wallet, which he offered to the nurse. "I need you not to talk about that," he said, gesturing to the id he'd handed over. "I'm undercover, but I've been tasked with protecting this man."

The nurse frowned but gave the id back. It looked genuine enough. "Alright... but the others have to go."

"Mm. We gotta get some breakfast, and go get your pain meds, huh?" Foggy stood up. He gave Montparnasse a confused look, but decided to believe him. The guy looked familiar -- and Foggy was blissfully unaware of the Uzi tucked under Montparnasse's jacket.

He got up, stretched, and kissed Ryan's forehead lightly before looking at Seth. "Matt's place? Then back here?"