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Red had been acting weird for a while. Weirder than usual, anyway: more muttering, more standing on church rooftops without moving, less actual fighting. The last one was particularly strange, coming from him. Not that Frank was worried; but he wondered, you know?
It all came to a head on the night Red joined him against a bunch of drug dealers. Right in the middle of rattling the bones of one of the assholes, Red stopped. He fucking stopped. Not in fear or anything like that, no; he just turned away from the goon, fell on his knees, and started… praying. Praying. Joined hands and mumbled Latin shit and everything. The guy whose face he’d been rearranging was so surprised he did nothing for a few seconds, but then he grabbed the gun Red had made him drop and he’d have blown Mr. Devil’s brain off if Frank hadn’t been faster.
Brains did end on the grimy floor, but not Red’s.
The gunshot jolted him out of his moment, though, and he jumped to his feet grumbling something (probably about killing and second chances or some shit) and got back in the fray. They wrapped up the mission, and Frank followed the blind idiot home. It probably wasn’t something they should chat about on some rooftop, and Red didn’t really say anything about it. Frank doubted Red wasn’t aware of his tail, anyway; he had to have realized Frank was walking along the same path he himself was parkouring his way above.
Once he got to the building, Frank took the stairs like the civilized person he could on occasion be, and found Red’s door unlocked. He pushed it open and didn’t waste words.
“What the fuck?”
“Hey, Frank.” Red was holding out an opened beer in a hand that was still roped-up. “What are you pissed off about, now?”
Frank took the bottle, but what he really wanted to do was wipe that smirk off of his pretty lawyer face. Red thought he could talk and talk until Frank forgot what he was there about, but it wouldn't work. “That little stunt of yours, earlier.”
“Stunt?”
Jeez, and now he was going for the Who, me? I didn’t do anything! look. Wasn’t going to fly. “Fuck’s sake, Red. The sudden mysticism attack?”
He shrugged. Little shit just shrugged and smiled and drank some beer, cool as you please. “Don’t know what you mean.”
He knew what Frank meant. “Guy was about to shoot you through the head.”
“God was talking to me, Frank. He won’t leave a message on my phone, that’s not his style.”
“God. Is talking to you.” What fresh, stinking bullshit was this?
“Yes. I’ve been having these, uh…” Red waved a hand in front of his face. “…these visions for a while now. Flashes of light, that sort of thing. Feels like I’m falling, and then the light, and... yeah.”
Yeah? More like a big, fat No. “Visions. You’re having visions.” Red nodded. He didn’t seem to find those visions troubling at all. “You’re blind.”
“What can I say? It’s a miracle.” The façade dropped for a moment, and Red’s sigh was a bit shaky. “It’s just… it’s been so long. I’d forgotten – can you imagine? – I’d forgotten what light is like. Light, Frank. It’s… it’s beautiful. I can’t believe I’d forgotten, but now I remember. It’s a gift from God, it can’t be anything else; it’s a sign I’m doing something right, yeah? It has to be.”
Absolutely not. “A sign from God that makes you fall on your knees in the middle of a fight? If I hadn’t been there, you’d have a hole in your head.”
“God’s will be done.”
Yeah, no. “You talk to your nun friend, your priest?”
“They’d tell me I’m hallucinating, that I’m having delusions of grandeur. But it’s real, Frank; I’m seeing light again.”
Holy shit, and those were quite appropriate words. “Ever thought that if you get back your eyes, you’ll lose your ears?”
Red didn’t look surprised at all; he had thought about it. And he didn’t like it one bit, from his frown. “His will be done, Frank. He gives and He takes as He sees fit.”
“And you’re going to take whatever your god dishes out, without protesting at all.”
“I’m trying to do what’s right.”
“Basically committing suicide by asshole when you walk away from a fight?”
“I… God was talking to me.”
No, he’d just been having some light show in his brain and he decided to look at it rather than finish off his opponent, like an idiot. But then again, idiotic behavior was nothing new from him. “Red.”
“Yes?”
“Can you do something for me?”
“You wouldn't ask if it wasn’t important.”
You bet. “Don’t put on the mask again until you’ve talked to a doctor.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You think god talks to you, fine. Just make sure to rule out everything else first, yeah? Don’t want to shadow you every night just to make sure you don’t start on the Hail Marys out of the blue; I got other stuff to do.”
“But…”
“Murdock.”
The use of his name surprised him. “And you’ll let me be afterwards?”
“Depends on what the doc says.”
The mulish face came back. “I don’t have to tell you.”
“I’ll know.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Frank put down his empty beer bottle on the kitchen counter, pocketed the stupid mask Red had left hanging on the banister (not that it would make a difference; the idiot probably had a few, but it would piss him off and make his point, so... ), and left through the roof access.
Over the next few days, Frank made sure Red’s usual circle knew about it. He called Karen and counted on her to share with Nelson; he found the Jones woman and had to bribe her with some booze before she condescended to talk to him.
He kept the nun for last.
He’d met her a few times; she was Red’s go-to medic. She was sharp, the nun was; she’d quickly understood Frank was more than just a random guy who’d been around when Red had been doing his thing. Just like Frank was pretty sure she was more than just a nun in an orphanage. He wouldn't pry; it wasn’t his problem, but he knew she was handy with a needle and that she had some medical training. That was enough.
Frank sighed, braced himself, and went to sit in one of the back pews in the church. She joined him soon enough.
“Hello,” she said. She looked up at him, unafraid. “What can I do for you?”
Frank started with, “He’s fine.” That was the question she wanted to ask, and the one she wouldn't ask. “But… he talk to you?”
“All the time. What is it?”
“He’s been acting a little… weird. Different. Told him to go to a doc, but not sure he will if no one takes him there.”
“I see.”
Frank debated telling her about Red’s hallucinations but decided not to. It wasn’t his place. “Thought maybe you could convince him.”
“Have you talked to his friend Foggy?”
“Yeah, I got in touch with people. But the more who know about it…”
“Of course.” She stood up and smoothed her clothes, an automatic gesture that she probably wasn’t aware of. “Irish coffee?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He’d done his job; now it was Red’s to keep his word.
But Red only slid further down into his delusion.
Karen called Frank to tell him Murdock kept finding excuses to postpone scheduling an appointment, and that he kept avoiding her and Nelson’s scrutiny by making himself scarce at the office and never being home the rest of the time. Worse than that, he hadn’t shown up at all for the last three days. On top of that, there were no sightings of Daredevil on vigilante-spotting websites in the last ten days, while Frank had expected Murdock to ignore that part of Frank’s demand. Karen also said the nun, Sister Maggie, hadn’t seen him at all after telling him she didn’t think he was having divine visions and that he should get his head looked at. She'd apparently threatened to take him there herself, and that had been the last straw. Frank didn’t doubt she could; she was tiny but fierce and Red listened to her, even if he made a fuss. All of that added up to some bad shit.
“He just doesn’t want to make an appointment. Every time Foggy tries to talk about it, Matt just claims there’s work to do, and he never stays for a drink afterwards just in case we mention it again.”
“What do you want me to do? He’s an adult. He makes his own choices.”
Kaen sighed on the other end of their conversation. “He’s making shitty choices.”
“I’m not going to stick anyone into an MRI scanner if they don’t want to go.”
“Look, he’s losing it. Really. Last few days he came to the office he was barely functional; Foggy managed to keep him away from court and clients for now, but it can’t go on like that.”
“What do you mean, barely functional?”
“He does what you said, suddenly falling to his knees and praying. He’s slurring his words sometimes, and he’s been clumsy. He’s never clumsy. Frank, I…” She paused. “Please.”
What was he supposed to do about any of that? Something was very wrong in Red’s head, but Frank was no doctor. “Look…” And then he stopped. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Can you just… can you just find him? Maybe talk to him, if he’s coherent?”
“You think I can talk him into an appointment?”
“Maybe he’ll listen to you. Get him to the Presbyterian, if you can; they’ll take him in, no question.”
“The Lower Manhattan hospital?”
“Yeah, Danny – Danny Rand – called ahead; they know him. The people there know not to ask too many questions if Matt comes in.”
“What makes you think I can get Red there?”
“Just try. Please.”
Ah, fuck. “No promises.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
Yeah, yeah. He hung up and got ready for some Devil hunting.
Red wasn’t hard to find in the end. Not if you knew him, anyway; maybe his friends didn’t know him that well, didn’t get how he thought. Not like Frank did.
He’d found shelter on the roof of a high-rise, tucked between vents, chimneys and other shit that hid him from sight. No wonder no one had found him: it wasn’t in the Kitchen. Frank had suspected they’d been too narrow in their search, and he’d thought maybe he’d go for high places that would put him closer to the source of his ‘visions.’ He’d been right. He sent a message to Karen and cleared his throat.
“Hey, Red.”
No answer. Murdock was lying spread-eagled on the roof, a stupid, goofy smile on his face.
“It’s going to rain tonight; you shouldn’t stay out here.”
“Frank?” His voice seemed to come from far away. Or far inside himself, where he seemed lost.
“Yeah.”
“Hi.” A Pause. “It’s so pretty, all the lights. All the colors.”
“I think they’re only in your head.”
“If you open up to God, he’ll show them to you, too.”
Nope. “I see a gray sky, gray skyscrapers, and an idiot on a gray roof.”
“Aw. I see red.”
“Good for you.”
“You keep calling me Red, but what kind of red do you mean? There are so many reds, Frank. I’d forgotten.” His head moved a little, as if he were following something with his eyes. “And grays too. I like grays.”
Frank sat down next to him. Get him to talk, establish trust. Then move in for the – well. Not the kill. Precisely not the kill. “Any color you don’t like?”
“Hm. I don’t think so.”
The clouds overhead were getting darker, and Frank wasn’t sure if it was because of the evening creeping in or the promised rain. Red, regular Red, would know; he was better than a barometer. Sensed pressure in the air and shit like that. Frank missed regular Red, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. “You see anything else, apart from your pretty colors?”
“Oh, yes.”
Frank waited, but Red didn’t elaborate. Fine. “What do you see, then?”
“Hm? Oh. Karen’s green eyes, Foggy’s red hair – he always says he has blond hair, but it’s a lie! I know the truth now.” He didn’t seem upset, just happy.
He was, however, entirely wrong. “Karen has…”
“I see my mother’s face, too.” Shit. “Your heart’s jumped. You’re surprised, right? Yeah, I told you. It’s God’s gift; God’s talking to me. He’s sending me all these pictures, because he’s forgiven me.”
Frank was very, very creeped out. “Forgiven you for what?”
“All my sins.” Oh boy. “He showed me my mom today; I prayed all day long and he showed me my mom. God loves me, Frank. I’m doing something right; he’s telling me I’m doing something right.”
You’re talking in circles, Red. “Your friends are worried.”
“No, they’re not; they’re all smiling and happy in my head. We’re all around a table and my mom’s making Irish coffee and – oh, is that you? You’re here too. Wow, Danny looks like a stick next to you.” Red fucking giggled, Jesus. No, absolutely no Jesus. Fuck.
“How can you be sure it’s God in your head?”
“I can’t. That’s why it’s faith: we can’t prove it, we can only feel it. I just know, Frank. Huh.”
“What?”
“Can you smell that?”
“Smell – dammit.” Frank couldn't smell anything weird, but he could definitely see Red’s eyes rolling back in his head, his limbs twitching on only one side. It only lasted for a few seconds, but those seconds were terrifying. Frank held Murdock’s head so it stopped hitting the concrete roof and swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.
“You epileptic now, Red?” he asked once it was over.
“Uhh.” Red was all floppy now, a little shaky and pale.
“If you say it’s God speaking to you, I’m going to knock those pearly whites out of your skull, you hear me?”
“Burns,” was the answer he got.
“Burns? What burns?”
“’S God,” Red said.
“Right, that’s enough. You’re going to the hospital, Red.”
“Nah.”
“Can you stand?”
Red didn’t answer, but he rolled to his side and tried to stand up. He didn’t get far; his balance was clearly all shot to hell. “Oh,” he said as he tilted into Frank’s arms.
“Yeah, oh.”
“No hospital.”
“Why, afraid they won’t see any god up in there?” Frank knocked gently on Red’s skull. “They’re just going to look, all right?”
“They can’t open me up.”
“Well, if your god doesn’t want them to look inside he’ll stop them, right?”
“Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”
“Course I am. C’mon, down we go.” Frank slid Red over his shoulder and gently got to his feet, trying not to jostle him too much.
“You have an honest face.”
First time anyone had ever said that. Of course, Red had no idea what his face looked like. “I do?” Thank the building’s architect for putting a service elevator so close to the roof door. “Good to know.”
“Mm.”
Frank tried to get him to keep talking until they got down to ground level and he snuck them out to Karen’s car, waiting right by the door he’d used. Red was making vague word-like sounds but once he was lying on the backseat, his head in Frank’s lap, Red stopped talking entirely and his eyes fluttered closed.
“Shit. Hit the gas, Karen.”
She did.
The next few hours were a bit of a blur.
Red didn’t wake up in the car, he didn’t wake up when they wheeled him somewhere deep into the bowels of the hospital, and he sure as fuck didn’t wake up when Nelson signed up the papers to send him to surgery.
“He doesn’t want surgery,” Frank said.
“He’s not able to make that kind of decision.”
“He’s going to be pissed off when he wakes up.”
“When isn’t he?” Point. “At least he will wake up. The doctor said the tumor is putting too much pressure on his brain; he’s not in any position to choose for himself. That’s what he made me his health care proxy for, to decide for him when he can’t.” Nelson’s tough lawyer façade melted away, leaving only the scared friend behind. “I’m not losing him.”
“No one is. He’ll be fine,” Karen said.
Sure. Once they’d opened up his skull, removed a bit of brain, and put the bone back in place. No sweat. Frank looked at the nun praying in a corner of the waiting room. She was holding a rosary, and Frank remembered she made a mean Irish co… shit. Was she the mom?
The arrival of a skinny, curly-haired man cut short Frank’s musings. Turned out he was the Danny guy, and there was another round of explanations for his benefit. Meningioma, probably benign, seizures, hallucinations, surgery – he’d heard it all before, so Frank tuned it out and closed his eyes. He could do with a power nap; Red wouldn't be out of surgery for a few hours, and Frank could forget he was in a hospital. Last few times he’d woken up in a hospital his world had been turned upside down, and he was pretty sure Red wouldn’t feel much better.
It was worse.
Once he was out and visits were authorized, Nelson and the Sister suited up and went in; they reported he was mostly out for the count but that once he recognized them he told them to leave. After that, another doctor came in to say they should all go home because they wanted to keep him calm and the short visit had upset him, and to come back the next day once he was a bit more himself. Nelson started to speechify at the surgeon and Danny pointed out maybe he’d react better to other visits, but the doc put her foot down and kicked them out.
“I’m not sure that’s quite by the book,” Karen said.
“Yeah, I’ll sue them.” Nelson was angry.
“No.” the Sister shook her head. “No; we’ll see how he is tomorrow. I’ll pray for him.”
Fat lot of good it would do, but Frank kept quiet and left them talking in front of the hospital. All their words were pointless.
The next day Red was out of the ICU and physically recovering as well as expected, but he refused to see anyone. Nelson, Karen, Sister Maggie his maybe-mom… as soon as he’d been able to string a few words together, he’d apparently given the nurses a list of people he didn't want to see. Frank would have been amused at the pettiness if they hadn’t been in a hospital, but they were and Red wanted to be left alone anyway.
In that list, however, one name didn’t appear: Frank’s.
“You have to go in,” Karen said. “He probably needs someone in there.”
“He doesn’t want to see anyone. He just forgot to put down my name.”
“Just try it, okay?” Nelson had huge bags under his eyes. “Go in and let us know how he is. Please.”
Frank sighed. “Fine.”
As he followed the nurse down a pale yellow corridor, he wondered what he’d find. Would Red still be himself, after he’d recovered? Would he still have his freaky ears and his stubborn streak and his idealism? Would he even recognize Frank? He hadn’t remembered to ban him, and that might be simply because he didn’t remember him.
Shit, the idea was terrifying.
The nurse opened the door, went in first, and after a few moments was back outside.
“He’s awake, and he said you can come in. He’s not… he’s not in a good mental state, but maybe you can help. He’s refused to see anyone else so far.”
Frank just said, “Okay,” and stepped in.
Red was lying on his bed, a surprisingly small bandage on his head. Frank remembered they had only drilled a small hole to slip in their surgical tools, but the size of the wound compared to how affected Red had been… Frank didn’t know what to make of that.
He wondered what to say and finally settled on, “Hey.”
“They did it, Frank.” Fuck, his voice was too weak. Wasn’t he supposed to be better?
“Did what?”
“They cut me open and took God away from me.”
“Red…”
“You’d said God would stop them if he wanted to, and he didn’t.”
“Surgery saved your life.”
Red’s lips trembled, but he pressed them together. “No,” he said after a minute. “They took it from me, do you understand? His voice, the light, the colors, all the faces – they took it from me!” His outburst had exhausted him; he was breathing heavily.
“They didn’t want you to be taken from them.”
“God’s will,” Red whispered.
“They fought for you.” Frank considered the chair near the wall but sat on the mattress, his hip against Red’s. “Your friends, your mom. They’re worried for you.”
“No,” he said. “They cut me off from God, and God didn’t save me. He doesn’t want me anymore; I’m not good enough.”
“You had a tumor. Doc said it was benign and that it shouldn’t come back, but it was hurting you.”
“God’s will,” he repeated.
“Do you truly believe that?”
“I don’t know. They’ve all abandoned me,” Red said very softly. “Even God. And now I’m all blind again and I can’t remember the colors anymore.” His voice broke and he turned on his side, curling around Frank. “My mom abandoned me, my dad, Stick, even God.” Frank took a tissue from the box on the bedside table and handed it to Red. “Foggy made them cut my head open and he knows… he knows I never wanted that.”
“Hey,” Frank said. He drew his hand down Red’s shoulder, his back. It seemed to calm him a little. “You know why he did that. You’ll understand too, when you’re better.” Hopefully.
“He betrayed me. They all abandoned me.” Shit, the skin under his eyes was puffy and almost purple. “You didn’t; you only tried to kill me. That’s more honest.”
“I didn’t try to kill you.”
“You shot me in the head.”
“In the helmet, Red. I shot you in the helmet; I didn’t want to kill you.”
“Oh.”
He’d rather Red were alive, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud. “Do you truly believe god was talking to you, even now?”
Red didn’t say anything for a while. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “It felt so real… it was beautiful, Frank. Not sure I like this reality.” He yawned.
“You’re tired. Sleep.”
“I remember I could see things,” Red murmured, “but I don’t remember them now. Frank, I don't – I’ve lost them. I’ve lost them again.”
“You had something in your brain that made you see those things, yeah?”
“God. Tell me it was God.”
Frank couldn't. He didn’t believe in a god, not any god; he’d had faith long ago but never like Red. He couldn't tell him it had been god in his head, but perhaps he could give him hope, a hope that wasn’t a lie. Frank hated lies. “The docs don’t know where it came from; it just happened. They removed it before it killed you, that’s all.”
“So maybe it was God, then.”
“Sure. Maybe.” If it made him feel better. “But you’re only human, Red. You can’t survive everything.”
“Oh.” Red’s hand felt for his. “Stay?” He curled a little tighter around Frank. “Don’t let them come in, not yet. I can’t… not yet.”
“Alright, Red, yeah. I’ll stay. You sleep tight; I’ll be here.”
Frank wiped the last tear on Red’s face, pulled up the blanket over him. When his fingers had gone slack Frank freed his hand and set the chair right next to the bed so he could message Karen while he kept an eye on him, making sure he slept.
He stayed in the hospital room as long as Red needed him, he stayed in Red’s apartment while he recovered, and then he stayed around once Red was back to his masked idiot ways.
Frank knew better than to question good things.