Chapter Text
“Hey Matt, you’ve got mail,” Foggy said as he entered their dorm room. He nudged the envelope against the back of Matt’s hand. Matt felt the thickness of the envelope before slitting it open, recognising the plain letter stock instead of the thicker Braille paper. “Evidently they don’t know I’m blind,” he grumbled.
“Give it to me,” Foggy said and Matt held out the paper for Foggy to read aloud.
“It’s from the Thurgood Marshall Foundation.”
“Oh cool. I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
“Your hero,” Foggy teased.
“Shut up and read, Mr Smartass.”
“Okay.” Foggy cleared his throat and spoke in his best attempt at a posh accent: “Dear Mr Murdock, we are pleased to invite you to the opening of New York’s new Thurgood Marshall Museum on the 13th May…” He looked up. “That’s the day after our exams finish, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, fuck I should be studying right now in fact.”
“As a promising Columbia Law student… blah blah blah…”
“Foggy, you either read it in full or you don’t,” Matt snapped.
Foggy read the rest of the letter, noting the RSVP date. “You have to respond by tomorrow. It’s a bit late notice, huh.”
“When did we last pick up the mail?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” Foggy skimmed the letter again. “Hey, I wonder why I didn’t get one.”
Matt shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe you need to be a member of the Thurgood Marshall fan club.”
“There’s a club?” Foggy said with a laugh.
“No, of course not. That was a joke.”
“Ha ha,” Foggy said sarcastically.
“You could come as my plus one?”
“It doesn’t say that you can bring a plus one on here.”
“Oh well, it’ll be a surprise then.”
Matt emailed his RSVP to the provided email address immediately, and then got back to studying. There was a reason Matt had topped every class in his first two years at Columbia Law. Once Matt established a goal, he’d commit to it without exception. He’d spent his last two academic years moving between the classroom, the library, his dorm room, the campus gym, and the occasional rendezvous with one of his many friends with benefits (because despite what Sister Margaret said to him in the orphanage, sex was rather fun, good exercise and a stress relief to boot - although the jury was still out on the ‘straight to hell’ part.). On the rare occasion Foggy managed to drag him outside or to some sort of social event (where Matt admittedly usually had a good time), Matt would end up panicky, guilty and even more obsessed with studying the next day. His only regular break from studying was his near daily trip to the gym – usually late at night when there were few or no other users. Foggy was constantly impressed with Matt’s dedication to not only his study, but also his abs, and although he sometimes worried about Matt’s obsessiveness, Foggy had to admit that his roommate’s focus had rubbed off on him. Foggy had never attained such good grades in all his life.
Neither of them had ever had such a close friendship either. After Foggy learned Matt had never been outside New York City, they’d made plans to do an epic roadtrip over the summer before their third and final year of college. They’d bought a beaten up campervan with the money they’d saved by not getting drunk every weekend, and had drafted a detailed route map with list of museums and parks they wanted to visit. They were both incredibly excited and planned to leave the morning after the museum opening.
On the morning of their last exam for the year, Matt received an email from the Thurgood Marshall Foundation. He quickly opened it.
“We are pleased to offer transport to the opening of the Thurgood Marshall Museum for the students at Columbia Law. Please wait at the Amsterdam Avenue entrance to St Paul’s Chapel for pick up at 5.30pm sharp.”
He’d meant to Google the location and bus route to the new museum, but had got distracted by the exam frenzy. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting there now. He turned his attention back to the looming exam. ‘Just one more day,’ he repeated to himself.
The following day, Matt could hardly contain his excitement.
“You are such a nerd,” Foggy moaned. Matt had been quoting Marshall all day while they packed up their dorm for the summer. Matt had few belongings and had finished in less than an hour, so he sat down and read from his weathered book instead: “the legal system can force open doors and sometimes even knock down walls. But it cannot build bridges. That job belongs to you and me.”
“Dude, as much as I’m enjoying this motivational speech, I need to concentrate on getting my stuff packed, dropping it off at my parents’ place, then getting our asses back to campus for your Marshall transport. Do you reckon you could lend a hand?”
Matt put down the book, and Foggy directed him to chuck everything from his desk into the box on the chair. Matt dutifully complied and Foggy went to work on his clothes. With one suitcase full, Foggy looked over at Matt who was deep in concentration as he placed each object with utmost care into the box. Foggy walked over and peered in. “Geez, if you weren’t blind you would be the world Tetris champion. I just meant scrape everything off the desk into the box. You’ve made a work of art there.”
“You don’t want your dinosaurs to get damaged, Fog,” Matt pointed out.
Foggy shrugged. “They came in a packet of 10 for $1. I’m not really worried.”
They took their roadtrip suitcases down to their campervan so they’d be ready to head off in the morning, and then waited for Foggy’s parents to pick up the rest of their stuff. The original plan was for Matt to attend the opening while Foggy had a farewell dinner with his parents, but just as the trunk of the Nelson family’s car was packed, Mrs Nelson made some comment about Foggy’s weight, which turned into an epic argument and the end of the family dinner plans.
“I guess I’m going to be your plus one after all,” Foggy said as his parents drove away with more baggage than planned.
They sat on a bollard outside St Paul’s to await the museum transport. Matt drew out a book and Foggy moaned, “tell me you didn’t bring your Marshall book to the Marshall museum.”
Matt looked offended. “Of course I did, Foggy. It seems only appropriate.”
“But all that information’s going to be there already.”
“Not in Braille it won’t. Besides, it’ll get us in the mood.” He ran his fingers over the book, and started reciting, “knock down the fences that divide. Tear apart the walls that imprison. Reach out, freedom lies just on the other side. We should have liberty for all…”
A mini bus pulled up and Matt and Foggy stood expectantly. The driver got out and said, “Matthew Murdock and Mark Fraser?”
“That’s me,” Matt answered. “And this is my plus one, Foggy Nelson.”
The driver retrieved a notepad from his pocket. “I don’t have a Foggy Nelson on the list. I can only pick up Murdock and Fraser. Sorry, mate.”
A young man and two women stared at them through the windows, curious about the delay. “The bus is almost empty, and the opening is in half an hour.” Foggy pointed out. “You can fit an extra person. And Mark whoever isn’t even here.”
“And I’m not coming if Foggy can’t come,” Matt said stubbornly. The driver seemed taken aback by this sudden act of protest. He told them to wait a second and typed something into his phone.
“What are you doing? You want to go so bad,” Foggy hissed at Matt.
“Yeah, but not if you can’t go,” Matt whispered back. “That’s not very Marshall - you know, excluding people.”
“He probably doesn’t even realise who Marshall is. Where do you reckon he’s from? His accent’s weird. Kinda British.”
Matt kicked Foggy. “Shhh…”
The driver finally got his answer and said, “come on mate, get in. It looks like Fraser’s a no show. You’re a bloody lucky guy.” Foggy snorted a little at the turn of phrase.
As they pulled away from the curb, the driver hollered, “so you guys have just finished exams huh?”
Matt nodded and Foggy said, “yeah, yesterday.”
“What now?” the driver asked.
“We’re going to do a roadtrip around the country. We both grew up in the city and haven’t seen much of our mighty fine country.”
“You been to Las Vegas?”
“No, but it’s on our list.”
“Don’t go there,” the driver said.
“Why?”
“Everyone wants your money – casinos, crooks, pimps. Nah, there are so many beautiful national parks around Vegas. You should go bush instead.”
“Oh, okay…” Everyone had excitedly asked if they were visiting Las Vegas, but this guy was the first to tell them not to.
“Call me Baz, by the way.”
“Baz,” Matt repeated.
“You’re the quiet one, huh?” Baz said to Matt. “Do you prefer Matthew or Matt or something else completely?”
“Matt please,” Matt said quietly.
“So we have Matt and Foggy of Columbia Law, Elektra – school of humanities, Yasmin – still deciding, and last but not least, Clint, who’s too clever to waste his money on college.” Baz gave Clint a wink in the rear vision mirror and Clint grinned back.
They all murmured hellos to each other. Baz threw a packet of chocolates into the second row where Clint was seated. “Get some of these in you. You can’t get chocolate like this in the USA.” Clint picked up the packet. “Caramello Koalas,” he read out loud. He pulled out a bright yellow wrapped chocolate and handed the packet on. By the time Matt was passed the packet, they were all happily munching on their caramel-filled koalas. Matt tore open the wrapper and sniffed it cautiously. There was something not quite right about Baz and the bus, and now the chocolates smelled like a chemical… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was something Stick had told him never to ingest. He became aware of the sudden silence in the bus. His fellow passengers had simultaneously fallen asleep. He fingered the wrapper a little, and then tried to slip it down the side of the seat without drawing attention.
“Don’t like chocolate, Matt?” Baz boomed and Matt jumped slightly.
“Um, I get a bit carsick. Thought I’d save it for later.”
“Do you want some water? I think I have some ginger chews here – they’re good for nausea,” Baz countered.
“How long till we arrive?” Matt asked, trying to sound neutral and composed.
“A little while longer. It’s just out of the city.”
Matt heard the jump of Baz’s heart and cursed at his own stupidity. He should have looked up the address. Was there even a museum? He had his mobile phone, but couldn’t Google it without speaking.
He could still hear the sounds of heavy traffic around him, so they hadn’t made it out of the city yet. That’s if they were even going out of the city. Perhaps he could slip out the door when they stopped at the next traffic lights. But then there was Foggy. He had to get Foggy out too.
Baz was fiddling with something as he drove. It sounded like a cartridge being loaded into a plastic vestibule. Matt got a whiff of the chemical again, this time stronger. As they drew up at the traffic lights and Matt got ready to leap at the door, Baz turned around and spit a dart at Matt’s shoulder. Matt whipped around and pulled out the dart, but it was too late and he slumped over unconscious.