Chapter Text
“Hey Karen, where’d you put your notes from that meeting with Ms. Liu?” Foggy asks.
“I think they’re in my desk drawer. Top left.”
Foggy opens the drawer she’d indicated and rifles through the papers inside. He finds notes from older cases and cut out articles from the Bulletin, but no sign of the notes he’s looking for. Just as he’s about to close the drawer, he finds a composition book buried at the very bottom. Foggy pulls it out and opens it to the first page. He skims the handwritten text and does a double take when he sees his own name staring back at him.
“Karen, what the hell is this?” he asks.
“What the hell is what?” She pokes her head in from the kitchen and freezes when she sees what he’s holding. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll put that back where you found it and pretend this never happened.”
Now even more intrigued, Foggy rifles through the pages. Almost every single one is covered in writing. “This is like a whole novel you’ve got here,” he remarks.
“Foggy.” Karen is trying to be serious, but at the same time she’s almost laughing. “You really don’t want to read that.”
“No, I definitely do. Matt! Get in here, you have to hear this!”
Karen hides her face in her hands and shakes her head. “I didn’t plan this. I had writer’s block when I worked at the Bulletin and started scribbling in that notebook just to get things flowing. It’s so ridiculous, you really don’t want to read it.”
Matt emerges from his office. “What’s going on?”
“I found this lovely little manuscript in Karen’s desk,” Foggy explains.
“What kind of manuscript?”
Foggy reads off the title with all the pomp and circumstance it deserves, drawing on everything he’d learned at theater camp. “The Butcher, the Faker, and the Vengeance Taker!”
Matt raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued.
“You’ll never guess who the butcher is,” Foggy says.
“Karen, did you write…fanfiction? About Foggy?” Matt questions.
“It’s not fanfiction!” she protests. “It’s nothing.”
Foggy flips through the book again. “Over a hundred pages is nothing?”
“It was a really bad case of writer’s block.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe you.”
Karen sighs, accepting her fate. “Fine. Just don’t share this with anyone not currently present in this room. Or else I will quit.”
“Fair enough. Strap in, Murdock, I have a feeling this is gonna be a wild ride.” Foggy turns back to the notebook and begins to read, “Chapter One. The Butcher…”
~0~0~0~
Every village in Florin had a local butcher. Across the entire nation, there were probably hundreds. Of these, only three had reputations that extended beyond their regular customers.
One worked in the castle, preparing meats and cheeses for the king and all of his esteemed guests. Everyone lucky enough to score an invite to a royal feast returned home with tales of delectably slow roasted mutton and cheddar so sharp it cut your tongue.
The second traveled the country selling his famous mystery sausages. Everywhere he went, the townsfolk declared his sausages the best they’d ever tasted and attempted to decipher what made them so uniquely delicious. Some believed he bred pig-cow hybrids. Others thought it was purely in the seasoning. Years ago, a young boy and his dog dug up a human femur next to the butcher’s wagon and solved the mystery. He was publicly executed with a noose made of his own sausage links.
The third was Foggy Nelson.
Foggy didn’t work in the castle or travel the country. He lived in a remote corner of Florin where the roads were nothing more than muddy ruts and the sheep outnumbered the people three to one. His meats didn’t grace the tables of royalty or scandalize villages with their illicit contents. They merely kept his community fed. Foggy prepared each cut with recipes passed down through generations of Nelsons, all the while chatting with his customers. He knew all his regulars’ orders by heart. Not only that, he knew their struggles, their hopes and dreams, and their petty drama. When a family left his corner of Florin for another, they brought with them stories of the best food and the friendliest service they’d ever received. Before long, everyone in Florin had heard of Nelson’s meats, though few considered themselves lucky enough to have tasted them.
“Good morning, Mrs Cardenas,” Foggy greeted. “The usual, or are we shaking it up today?”
She smiled. “The usual.”
Foggy handed her two pounds of pork loin. “From Farmer Lantom’s finest,” he promised. “How are your neighbors doing?”
Mrs Cardenas beamed. “Wonderful. No drought this year. Our stream, it flowed all summer.”
“That’s great.” When the stream dried up, the people on Mrs Cardenas’s side of the village had to walk an extra mile to get water.
“We are having a party tomorrow night,” she said. “You should come.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She invited him to things almost every time she came into the shop, and he attended as often as possible because she could cook a pork loin better than anyone he knew. Sometimes, when she didn’t have enough coins to cover the cost, he let her pay him in free taste tests.
The next customer to walk through the door, however, had no such special privileges. “Foggy,” he said icily.
“Brett,” he shot back with equal venom.
“Give me the biggest chuck roast you got.”
Foggy obliged, then carefully counted the coins Brett handed him to ensure he wasn’t being cheated. Brett left the shop without another word.
More customers poured in throughout the day. He gave some brisket to Mrs Benson, three whole chickens to Mr Urich, a pound of bacon to Mr Ellison, and back ribs to Ms Reyes. Once he wrapped up her food, he started closing up. Farmer Lantom would be here any minute with the next batch of carcasses, and Foggy would need to spend the afternoon preparing them.
A few minutes later, there came a knock at the back door. “What do you have for me today?” Foggy asked as he swung it open. His voice fell off on the last syllable as he realized, instead of Farmer Lantom, he’d been speaking to a handsome young man. “Oh, hi,” he stammered.
Farmer Lantom, standing a few paces behind the man, introduced him. “Foggy, this is Matthew. He’s my new apprentice.”
“Matt,” he amended.
“Nice to meet you, Matt.” Foggy extended his hand to shake, but the man completely ignored it.
“I’m getting a little old to wrangle cattle,” Farmer Lantom said disappointedly. “My wife told me I needed to either find some help or find a new wife.”
~0~0~0~
“Hold on, you gave Lantom a wife?” Matt protests. “He’s a priest!”
“No, he’s a farmer. Keep up, Matt.”
~0~0~0~
Matt shifted the wooden staff he held from one hand to the other. “I’ve heard great things about your shop.”
“Thank you. I just do the best that I can with what you guys give me.”
“Speaking of which, shall we bring these inside?” Farmer Lantom gestured to the covered cart behind him.
“Yes, of course.” Foggy led the way into the back of the shop where he kept all his butchering tools.
“The door’s at your eleven, about six paces ahead,” Farmer Lantom told Matt.
Foggy finally put the pieces together. “Hang on, you’re…you’re blind?”
“So they tell me,” Matt said with a smirk. He had a dimple on his right cheek, and Foggy vaguely wondered what it would feel like to kiss that exact spot.
Matt helped Farmer Lantom lift the carcass onto the table. That was where their visits usually ended, but Foggy found himself scrabbling for any excuse to make them stay longer.
“You said you’ve heard great things,” he said. “Have you had a chance to try anything?”
“No. We…I…I don’t usually have the money for meat.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t charge colleagues.” He winked, a gesture which he realized only after the fact was completely lost on Matt. Farmer Lantom, however, recognized what he was doing and offered him an approving smile. Foggy wrapped up one of his specialties, a T-bone steak, and handed it to Matt. “Steak at twelve o’clock,” he announced. Matt gently took the package from him, and their fingers brushed against each other.
“This is pretty heavy,” he said. “There’s no way I’ll be able to eat it all by myself.”
For a moment, Foggy thought he was rejecting the gift, but then he looked at Matt’s raised eyebrows and realized what was actually happening. “I’d be happy to help with that,” he offered.
Matt grinned. He gave Foggy incredibly specific directions to his house which Foggy scrambled to memorize. Then, he grabbed Farmer Lantom by the elbow and followed him out of the shop. Foggy watched them walk away until they disappeared in the distance.
The next night, he discovered that Matt could cook even better than Mrs Cardenas.
Foggy had always loved his job, but now every day became a slog of waiting for closing time so he could see Matt again. Matt stopped walking home with Farmer Lantom after delivering the goods; instead, he stayed behind and chatted with Foggy while he worked. They talked about anything and everything. Foggy told Matt about his parents and the long history of Nelson’s meats. Matt told Foggy about his father fighting his way through half of Florin just to make ends meet.
They commiserated over the injustices faced by some of the people in the village. The king wanted to wage war with Guilder for no reason while his own subjects starved, and there was nothing they could do about it. Sometimes the Brute Squad shook people down for no reason other than their own twisted pleasure. Merchants slipped poison into milk of the poppy and sold it to clueless people who just wanted to make their pain go away. Foggy thought about these things occasionally, but he’d always tried not to let them get him down. On Matt, however, they weighed constantly. Hardly a day passed when Foggy didn’t have to haul him up from the pit of despair. It soon became clear, though, that Foggy was more effective than anyone at clearing those dark clouds. He could make Matt smile like no one else could, and he did so as often as he possibly could.
Spring had just arrived in Florin, bringing with it a week of rain. When the ground finally dried, Foggy packed a picnic basket with brandy, bread, salami, and a special treat. He carried the basket on one arm and led Matt with the other as they hiked to the top of a hill on the outskirts of the village. Foggy couldn’t decide which was more beautiful, the view or Matt.
They chatted for hours as the sun crept toward the horizon, nursing their brandy and nibbling on slices of bread. When they’d emptied the bottle, Foggy decided that was the perfect moment to share the last piece of the picnic. He reached into the basket and told Matt, “Hold out your hands.” Into his waiting palms, Foggy placed a pear-shaped object with rough skin. Matt ran his fingers over it and gently pressed down on the surface.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, practically giddy with excitement.
“I traded Brett for it.”
“No way. What did he want for it?”
“Half a dozen ribeyes.” It was excessive, but avocados were almost impossible to get in Florin. They couldn’t grow them here, so they were all imported from across the ocean.
Matt held out the fruit toward Foggy. “Would you do the honors?”
“Happily.” Foggy grabbed a knife from the picnic basket and sliced the avocado in half. He pulled it apart with a twist and offered half to Matt.
“It even smells good,” Matt said, holding the fruit up to his face and taking a luxurious sniff.
Foggy smiled. He knew it would be a hit, but he didn’t anticipate just how much joy it would bring Matt. “Here’s a spoon,” he said, tapping the handle to the back of Matt’s hand. Matt accepted the utensil and scooped out a small bite. Foggy watched as Matt slipped it into his mouth and his eyes lit up.
“Good, isn’t it?” Foggy asked. He himself had only ever tried it once before.
“It’s amazing.”
He took his first bite, savoring the soft texture and unique flavor. “It’s even better than I remember,” he said. “And I think I know why.”
Matt swallowed. “Why?”
“Because this time, I’m with you.”
Matt set his food aside in favor of kissing Foggy. His lips tasted like avocado and brandy. Before they could take it too far, Foggy interrupted with a hand on Matt’s chest. “We have to finish eating them before they turn brown.”
Matt furrowed his brows. “Turn brown?”
“Yeah. Once they’re exposed to air, they start browning.”
“What color are they now?”
“Oh. They’re green.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. They don’t taste green.”
Foggy chuckled. “And what does green taste like?”
“I dunno. Leafy? Everything green I’ve ever eaten required actual chewing. This doesn’t.”
“That’s a good point. It’s different from most green foods.”
Matt took another bite. “That’s what makes it so special, I guess.”
“There’s another thing, too,” Foggy said, staring at the center of his half.
“What’s that?”
“It comes with a little memento.” He plucked out the pit and placed it in Matt’s hand. “So we’ll always remember this date.”
Matt rolled it between his fingers. He brought the pit up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the shiny brown surface, then held it out for Foggy to do the same. Then, he tucked it into his pocket and said, “It’ll be my good luck charm.”
“What do you need luck for? You already have me,” Foggy said teasingly.
Matt kissed him again. “No idea.”
Foggy sighed and gazed out at the sunset. “Man, I wish you could appreciate this view. Everyone in town agrees this is the most beautiful spot in all of Florin.”
Matt rested his head on Foggy’s shoulder. “Describe it to me.”
“I doubt my limited prosaic prowess can do it justice, but I’ll try,” Foggy said with a chuckle. “We’re high up on a hill, so you can see for miles. The field below us is full of wildflowers; it’s like a quilt of bright colors. There’s red, yellow, pink, white, even a few spots of blue. When the wind blows just right, they all ripple like a waving flag. Across the field are these huge mountains all covered with trees. They’re so green they almost look fake. The two in the middle overlap, and the setting sun drops right into the gap between them. It turns the sky orange and pink, and the color bleeds into the clouds floating above the mountaintops.”
“Wow,” Matt remarked.
“How was that? You getting anything?”
“Yeah. That was…that was really nice.”
“Now you go.”
“What do you mean?”
“I tried to help you experience it my way. Now I’m gonna close my eyes, and you’re gonna help me do it your way.”
“Oh, okay.” Matt seemed both flustered and excited by Foggy’s request. He hummed thoughtfully and Foggy closed his eyes to listen. “I can tell there’s a big empty space ahead of us from the way our voices are carrying. There’s a wren and a cardinal in the trees off to our left…and another cardinal behind us. When the wind blows, all those flowers down in the field rustle. The ground is warm, but it’s not wet, and the air’s getting cooler by the minute as the sun goes down. Your hear—I mean, your hair is tickling my neck.”
“Oh, sorry.” Foggy reached back and tried to pull it away from Matt.
“No, don’t be sorry. I meant that in a good way.”
“Oh.” He let go and allowed the breeze to ruffle his hair back to where it sat before.
“How was that?” Matt asked.
“It was amazing. I wish this night could last forever.”
~0~0~0~
“Karen, I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Foggy teases.
“Shut up,” she warns.
“Matt, what did you think?”
“I’m just glad she picked something other than face touching as a show of intimacy. Nobody actually does that.”
“Wait, really?” Karen asks. “I actually picked describing scenery for a different reason, but you’ll have to read the next chapter to find out.”
“Did you hear that, Matt? She wants us to keep reading. On to chapter two!”