44. The ones we left behind

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"Y/n! I came here as fast as I could." Foggy runs up to you, clearly out of breath, and from the first glance, you could say that out of bed too.

You lift your eyes from your briefcase that you've been holding in your arms ever since the agents gave it back to you. Dex's hand gently squeezes your shoulder, before he stands up, greeting Foggy. "Agent Poindexter. Are you a family member?"

"No, I'm her friend. Coworker. Why are you still holding her here? How are you?" Foggy asks, concern written all over his face.

You pull Dex's FBI windbreaker tighter, feeling the cold seeping into your bones. "I'm alright, Foggy."

"No, you're not." Foggy quickly sits beside you on the small bench, where Dex has been keeping you company for the past couple of hours, and takes your right hand into his. "What happened? Who hurt you?"

Dex eyes Foggy for a minute, before his glance falls on your arm wrapped with medical gauze. "I said I'm alright. Just hurt my arm a bit, nothing serious... Nurse said to keep it like that for a couple of days." Your stare is blank. You avoid Foggy's eyes. Dex excuses himself and leaves you two alone.

"Was it the Russians? Everyone's saying that it was the Russians." You pull your hand away from Foggy and touch the ring on your middle finger, slowly rolling it.

"Well, it looks like you already know everything."

"I want to hear it from you, y/n."

"Yes, okay?" You raise your voice a tiny bit, but in the empty corridor it sounds as if you were shouting. "They killed Michael, they kidnapped me and then this freak, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, saved me. You're happy?"

Foggy blinks more than necessary, carefully choosing his next words. "No, of course I'm not happy. Why would I be happy when my friend got hurt? The only one I can trust now..."

You furrow your eyebrows. "You need better friends then. I'm..." You blink your new tears away. You've cried enough in front of the others today. "I'm a mess, okay? They're going to question me tomorrow, and I have to relive it all again, and I just don't want to say something that might hurt you... Only because I'm hurt."

"Y/n, I understand..."

"You better go home, Foggy, I have nothing to say you would want to hear." You look away, not trying to hurt Foggy, but hoping to protect him from your anger.

"Let me get you a taxi, at least." He stands up, looking down at your lowered head.

"Dex will take me home. He's bound to do so after the brief inquiry." You squeeze out a small, but fake smile, "I'm okay, really."

"You're either a very good liar or very good at convincing." Foggy smiles and spins on his heel to leave, but then turns around, "call me tomorrow, okay?"

You nod and watch him hurry out of the building into the pitch black night. "You're ready to go?" Dex emerges from the nearby room, having been listening to you and Foggy's conversation.

"Yes. I am."

***
The silent drive finally ends, and you're back home, standing under the hot water stream in your shower, hoping that it can peel off your skin and make you feel less dirty and miserable as you felt now.

Your tears have mixed with water running down your face until there was no difference between them. You tried to keep your right hand out of the water, but it was pointless as it soon got wet.

You hear a loud banging on the doors as you turn off the water and wrap yourself in a bathrobe, water dripping from your soaking wet hair on the floor as you reluctantly make way towards the door. "Y/n, please, open up." Matt rests his head on the doors, still knocking, but moves aside when hears the lock clicking.

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