I know I've kinda used Jack Murdock in my other multi-chapter story, but this fic was in my mind for quite some time and I wanted to write it.

Please, review. Tell me, if it's any good.

Part 1

Jack woke up with a horrible headache. The pain emitted from his forehead (on its right side, to be exact). The cheering crowd was echoing in his memory, as he opened his eyes. At first everything was blurry, but he knew it was a day. He felt the asphalt under him and heard sounds of the street – cars, talks, even a barking dog… – coming from his left side. When his vision cleared, he realized that he's lying in the alley, somewhere near his flat. There was a dumpster, back door to one of the buildings and a fire stairs.

Jack slowly sat up, his head still aching. He tried to remember how he got there. Memories, images, emotions were spinning in his mind, flowing into one, big mess. A very tough, but victorious fight with Creel. The euphoria that numbed the pain and exhaustion of his beaten up body. The audience shouting his name. Him listening to this shouts, feeling triumphant for the first time in his life. His hurry to come back home – to Matty, who probably has listened to the fight and was as happy as him…

What happened? Did he fainted? The last thing Jack remembered from that night was walking down this street and hearing the gunshot. Then there was nothing. His memory was failing him. Jack tried to remember, tried to recall every scrap of his mind around last night and find the lost information; tried to understand what happened on his way to Matty.

Matty!

The boy had to be really worried right now. If Jack spent here all night, then hearing this gunshot, his son must have thought that his old man could be wounded. Or dead, for that matter. Why nobody tried to wake the boxer up? Granted, there was a lot of drunkards here, getting wasted in the alleys and sleeping on the street after too many bottles, but people knew him and Matty! They could at least shouted to him to come back to his son.

Jack quickly got up and started to walk towards his block. His steps were getting faster. Last night, on his way home, he kept imagining Matty's face, when his loser father finally come back after such astounding victory. Jack couldn't wait to see Matt finally being proud of him. Cheering crowd and all the money he won during that fight, was nothing compared to this wonderful sensation that his son is proud of him.

But right now Matty was probably really worried, scared even. Well, it wasn't the first time when he was completely alone in their flat, but it was never for so long. Jack hoped that the kid didn't opened the door to anybody, nor went out, looking for his father. Leaving him alone was reckless enough, but letting blind child walk around in the middle of the night was even worse.

The streets looked weird. Yes, it were the same streets he grew up on, but he didn't recognize the cars, outfits and billboards. Still, he had more important things to do.

He finally got to their flat and knocked on the door. He waited for Matt to ask who is that, but there was no reply to the knocking. Jack assumed that Matt got tired and went to sleep. So the boxer knocked again, this time, however, he also called:

"Matt, open up, please!"

No answer.

"Matt, it's dad! Open up!"

The silence on the other side started to creep him out. This time Jack didn't knock, but banged on the door.

"Matt, it's dad! Are you there?! Open up!"

The sound of unlocking, but the person who opened the door wasn't his nine year old son, but an obese man with curly hair. Jack felt how his heart sunk in with fear. He didn't know this man.

"Who are you?" Was the first question he asked, but then came another: "Where is Matt?"

"Get out, you crazy bum." The man said.

He was going to close the door, but Jack quickly blocked them. Then he took the man by the collar and looked into his eyes.

"Where is Matt?" He replied, this time with quiet, intimidating voice. "Son of a bitch, what did you do to Matt?"

"Help! Help!" Screamed the stranger, but Jack silenced him with one quick kick in the stomach.

"If you hurt my son, bastard, I swear, I will brake every bone in your body."

"I don't know, what are you talking about!"

"It's my apartment! I've come here and expected to see my son, but I saw you! Who are you? And what have you done to Matt?"

"Listen up, man," Jack's victim tried to appease him. "I don't know who you are, but this is all just a mistake. I'm living in this flat for ten years now."

Jack turned his gaze off him and looked into the flat. The furniture was different, not to mention the wallpaper which – in addition – seemed to have few years, judging by the dirt and shredded edges. Another questions were spinning in Jack's head, as he checked the number on the door. Everything else seemed to be the same, he didn't enter the wrong block, and knocked to the wrong door, so how…?

Neighbors started to come out of their flats and suddenly Jack felt a lot of eyes staring at him, some of them with curiosity, some of them with enmity. A bit embarrassed, he released the man from his grip and took two steps back.

"What is happening here?" Some woman asked, and got the answer almost immediately:

"This madman started to bang on my door, asking about some kid, and when I opened, he attacked me, saying it's his apartment!"

For a moment still confused Jack was staring at them, not knowing what to do.

"I-I'm sorry." He finally spoke, looking at the current owner of his flat. "I'm so, so sorry… I thought that…"

"Get out, or we call the police!" He heard from some elder lady.

Another moment of silence. Jack took a deep breath and started to ask about the address of the place he was in. The answers confirmed his suspicions – he was still in his block. But why everything seemed so different? The owner of his flat said, he was living there for ten years. But Jack remembered last night – he remembered coming to Matt after the fight with Creel. Did he slept, God knows, how many years, and just like that woke up now? Was he in coma? He was sure that in that case he would wake up in the hospital, not in some dark alley.

"I was living here once." He said. "With a son."

One of the women came to him with expression of kindness. Probably seeing how confused he was, she smiled to him, then told her neighbors to come back to their flats. Only when they did it, she took Jack's arm.

"Come with me, sir." She whispered. "I will make you coffee, and you'll tell me about your son."

Jack let her lead him. After all, something weird was happening here and he needed some information.

Maybe this woman will tell him where Matty is.

"So," She started, when they were walking down the stairs. "you said the name of your son is Matt?"

"Yes." He replied.

"How he looks like?"

Jack had to stop and think about the answer. Not because he didn't remember how his own son looks like, but because – judging by apparent turn of events – it was highly possible that he now looked differently.

The woman stopped too and looked at him, waiting for whatever he was going to reply.

"Last time when I saw him, he was nine." Jack said finally and they started to move again. "He has dark hair and wears black shades. You see, he's blind."

"Oh…" Her eyebrows raised. "That's tough."

He thought she will take him to her apartment, but she led him out of the block.

"So what actually happened? You've lost him?" She continued the inquiring.

"I… I don't know what happened, really." Jack felt more lost with every minute. "I woke up in the alley… and suddenly the place, we were living in, was occupied by someone else."

"Don't worry. I know someone, who will help you."

He suddenly realized she was directing him to church. The same church he was attending with Matty every Sunday. At first he was against the idea of coming in, but then he thought that he might find there someone he knew – either from clergy or from parishioners. The nameless woman led him through the open door and then – when they realized no one was there – to sacristy.

"Father, I need your help." She said the moment when they entered the room.

At the table, looking through a (probably accountant) book, was sitting father Lantom. In spite of priest's grey hair and wrinkled face, Jack could easily recognize him. How long he was sleeping there, if the man who baptized his son, grew old?

"Yes, what is…?" Father Lantom began, but when he raised his gaze and saw Jack, he was rendered speechless. For a moment the priest was observing Jack with astonishment. He quickly returned to his sense and turned to the woman: "Thank you, but leave us alone for now, please. I have to talk with this gentleman, face to face."

"Well, okay." She shrugged and turned towards the door. "I have to go to work, either way."

They both said goodbye to each other and Jack was left alone with the priest, who was still staring at him with surprise. Father Lantom stood up and slowly approached the boxer.

"Jack," He whispered. "is that you?"

"Yes." Jack replied. "I need your help, father."

"Of course." The priest leaned his hand towards the chair on the other side of the table. "Let's talk about it."

He himself returned to his previous seat. Jack knew father Lantom tried to remain calm and he even managed to look very composed, but there was just something hanging in the air. Some kind of tension. Nevertheless, he told the priest about everything that happened to him – how he won with Creel, how he heard the gunshot on the way home, how he woke up in the alley and how he found out about his flat being occupied. Father Lantom listened carefully, but Jack knew that he was also thinking about something. He probably was contemplating the whole situation.

When the boxer finished his story, the priest straightened himself, but was silent.

"I know it sounds crazy." Jack said. "I can't comprehend it myself. I only know that I woke up in the alley and everything is different. Like I was sleeping for couple of years."

"It certainly looks like it." Was father Lantom's reply.

"How long?" Jack asked, clenching his hands on the chair's armrests. "I need to find Matty. Can you tell me how long I was sleeping and where is my son?"

"Jack, listen to me carefully." The priest leaned towards him. "You won't like it what I'm about to say, but you have to hear it."

Jack felt how his muscle tensed. He already didn't like what father Lantom was saying.

"That night when you won with Creel, you've been shot. Pretty close to your block, actually, because Matthew heard the gunshot and found you."

Sound of the gunshot echoed in the boxer's memory. He suddenly realized that he's cold.

"You've died that night, Jack. You've been dead for almost twenty years."

"So I'm a ghost?" Jack chuckled nervously.

"I don't know." Father Lantom shook his head. "I'm not an expert with ghosts, but you seem very corporal to me. And people didn't have problems with seeing you."

Jack was thinking about it for a moment. That was true. If he supposed to be a ghost, he shouldn't be seen by all those people in the block. Or heard for that matter. He felt very much alive, so how was it possible that he woke up twenty years later, just like that?

Suddenly he remembered. When he decided to not lose to Creel… he knew he might die. He was mentally prepared for it, when he left the ring that fateful night. He only hoped that it will take awhile for his killer to make a move. That he will at least manage to come back to Matty and share his triumph before it happens. Not that they will get him the same night.

He shook his head and looked at the priest.

"So if I'm not a ghost, how is this possible that I'm walking around normally?"

"I don't know, Jack. But it would be wise, if you try to avoid people, who might recognize you."

At first Jack nodded with approval, but then a sudden realization hit him.

"What about Matty?"

"Unfortunately, that includes him too. At least for now. I know it seems harsh, Jack, but we have to find out how it happened. Maybe your stay here is only temporary."

It seemed that he wanted to say something else, but he didn't.

"Can you at least tell me, how he's doing?" Jack asked.

Another moment of silence. This time father Lantom turned his gaze away, like he had something to hide. Jack had a bad feeling about that. What happened to Matty, when his dad was dead?

But then father Lantom straightened himself again and said with the most sympathetic smile he could muster:

"He's a lawyer, Jack. A very good one, for that matter."

"A lawyer?"

Jack always hoped that his son will become someone better than him; someone who will be using his head than fists. When that cruel accident happened, he urged Matt to learn even more. Many times he was thinking about who Matt will be in the future. A doctor? An artist? Maybe historian? He liked history…

For the first time in this horrible day Jack beamed with happiness. His eyes even seemed to get a little teary.

"My little Matty is a lawyer." He repeated.

"He has his own law firm. A small one, but he's happy with it. 'Nelson and Murdock', as I recall."

"That's wonderful! He was always such a bright child."

"Yes, he was." Father Lantom admitted with smile, but it suddenly weakened.

Jack got serious too.

"There is something you're not telling me, father." He didn't ask, he stated it.

"Mainly because Matthew told me it in confessional." The priest said and looked at Matt's father. "You've raised him well, Jack. He's a good man, who wants to do what's right. That's all, you have to know."

Jack wasn't convinced. He was just observing his interlocutor, who looked at him back. This thing father Lantom was hiding from him about Matty seemed to be something big.

"You must be cold." The priest stood up. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please." Said Jack.

Father Lantom only nodded and lead the boxer to the parish. He left his guest in the living room and went to the kitchen.

Jack wanted to see his son so badly… When he woke up that day, he wanted to share with him the victory with Creel. Later he only wanted to find his boy, who suddenly was absent from their flat. Now he was dying to see Matty after all those years, he apparently slept over; to see the man his little boy grew out to be.

Jack didn't even know how his son looked like anymore.

But will Matt be happy to meet him again? Will he greet his dad with open arms? He had his own life now. Will there be a place for his suddenly resurrected sorry excuse of a father?

Maybe he could at least look at Matt's life from the distance. Maybe he could just observe, if he couldn't come out? As father Lantom said, they didn't know if this state is temporary. So he was sitting here, wasting time, when he could at least do some little investigation. He knew the name of Matt's firm. He could ask about it.

So before father Lantom could say or do anything, Jack Murdock stood up and left parish through the front door.