Sick 'n Tired

Chapter 1

It was Matt's favorite time of year. The almost winter, not quite fall cusp. It was pleasant, he could smell the changing of the seasons with every day. A change of pace from the harsher seasons. The brisk morning air didn't sting like in the heart of winter, and the afternoons didn't threaten to cook him alive like in the middle of summer. And, God, not to mention the blissful absence of pollen in the air that made spring an absolute nightmare. 

That particular absence made an otherwise normal action an indicator of the beginning of the end for Matthew Murdock. While sitting in his adequately sized office, running his fingers delicately over some new case information, it happened. A sneeze. Followed by not one, but two more. 

"Bless you!" he heard Foggy yell from the other side of their small firm, the voice echoing through the stark space. He hadn't needed to yell, even without Matt's heightened senses, the walls were so thin that anyone could hear a whisper from the furthest corner of the room.
Matt just sat there, his unfocused eyes wider than normal.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," he muttered to himself. 

"What's that, buddy?" Foggy said, striding over to Matt's office, leaning against the chipped door frame casually. "Those were some pretty hefty sneezes. Getting a cold?" 

"Hope not. That's the last thing I need right now," Matt responded, an edge in his voice. Had he always sounded this nasal? It dawned on him that his normal hot-running self was actually freezing. "Hey, is it-- is it cold in here to you?" 

"No, I actually had to take my jacket off."

Matt groaned, "No..."

Suddenly the front door swung open, startling the two and making Matt wonder why the hell he of all people got startled. Why hadn't he sensed it before? He didn't have much time to ponder the question as Karen walked in, a smile spreading on her face when she saw Foggy and Matt.
"Good morning!" she chirped, setting down her purse on her desk and joining Foggy in the now crowded door frame. She finally got a good look at-- "Jeez, Matt, you look awful."

"Morning to you, too, Karen," he smiled. 

"No I-- I didn't mean--" she stumbled before Matt interrupted. 

"I know what you meant," he laughed, it was always a delight to be in the presence of Karen Page.

"It's just that you look like you got hit with a sweaty, mucus-y, uhh, disgusting truck," Foggy replied, saying what Karen didn't have the heart to.

"I'm sweating?" Matt asked, mostly to himself. How could he not have noticed that? This is bad.

"Matt," Karen spoke tenderly, her hands fiddling with themselves. Although Matt couldn't see it, he could sense the genuine worry that was wrapped around every word she said, "Why don't you go home? You're obviously sick, you should get some rest."

"Ha, like telling Matt Murdock to get rest ever works," Foggy laughed, leaving the door frame and going to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"It wouldn't hurt..." Karen persisted.

Matt began to gesture a protest but gave up. It was true, after all. Although the work day had just begun, Matt honestly didn't feel up for any more work. He was just tired. And while that never stopped him before, this felt worse; his thinking was slow, his senses were slow, and even on an empty stomach he was beginning to feel nauseous. Sighing heavily, he brought his hand up to his head, aiming to sweep the hair that had fallen onto his forehead back into place. Instead, he could only cringe in disgust as he felt the slick grime of sweat matting it down.

"You guys are right," Matt sighed, "I should get home."

"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," Foggy smiled, "I'll call you a cab," he walked back to his office and picked up the phone.

"No, no, I can walk," Matt protested, standing up and almost tipping over, catching himself on the side of his desk.

"Smooth," Karen said, entering his office and offering assistance that Matt gladly accepted. "How did you get here in the first place?"

"I just didn't notice it until now," he said. Perhaps that was a bit hard to believe, but it really was true. The more Matt thought about it, the more he noticed the symptoms in the preceding few days. A headache he passed off as a side effect of a recent fight with a mugger was really a result of his sinuses, his lack of appetite that he thought to be nerves from a case was just nausea from whatever bug he's caught. He'd been so busy that sickness simply didn't register in his mind as a cause.

The cab came, leaving Matt alone to enjoy a rather uneventful ride home. Foggy had insisted on paying. The uncomfortable silence was accompanied by an equally uncomfortable sticky leather seat, making Matt feel worse than he already did. He tried to roll down the window to get some fresh air as the hot, muggy recycled cab air made him want to vomit. The window wouldn't budge, the mechanism broken. Before he had the chance to pray for this death ride to be over, the cab came to a sudden halt.

"Here."