Hope

by ZoeWiloh

Matt saves a girl in an alley and can't help but recognize a lot of himself in her. He's willing to do anything to help her, including taking off his mask and walking her home.

Can't believe I'm posting this after starting it in, like, April. Just like in most of the things I write, a lot of it is exploring the characters' heads and thoughts and stuff. If you're looking for tons of Daredevil-y action, you should probably look elsewhere. That said, it's still our Matt Murdock so who cares.

Enjoy!

-ZW

X

It had actually been a really quiet night. Uneventful. Unremarkable. Almost shockingly dull.

Matt had barely been needed at all. He had scared some stupid kids out of robbing a convenience store. All he'd needed to do was show up and his merciless reputation towards criminals had done the rest, causing the teens to scatter. Not long after that, he'd broken up a mild fight at a virtually empty bar. It wasn't even something he'd normally bother stopping; there were usually more dangerous situations to diffuse.

In fact, it was so quiet he almost called it a night far earlier than usual - 1:30 am - when he heard something else he wouldn't typically respond to. It was at first a seemingly mundane situation taking place in an alley a few buildings over. It had started normally enough, but at least two of the people had racing hearts, and not the normal breathless kind. Since it was happening just a few alleys over, he traversed a couple rooftops and listened from a fire escape above the scene.

"Hey there, sweetheart," a male voice said as he ambled slowly into the alley.

"We been looking for ya, Rosalie," a second male voice said nonchalantly.

Matt could tell that the third person in the alley was anxious. "Oh yeah?" Her voice was steady; if Matt hadn't been able to hear her erratic heartbeat he may have actually believed that she was remaining perfectly calm in the face of these two men slowly pushing her deeper into the alley. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

One of the men gave a short chuckle and kicked a discarded can away from where he had stopped his lazy march towards the girl. "Nothing you haven't done before," he said, the darkness in his tone obvious.

Her heart was beating even faster and this time her voice wavered when she said, "Sorry, man, I don't know what you're talking about." Matt studied the girl from his perch. Young, for sure. And despite the fact that she seemed to be standing her ground, she didn't appear to have any obvious means of defending herself. No hidden knife or pepper spray to turn the tide in her favor.

Matt could sense that one of the men was inching towards her while the other stood stoically against the brick of the alley, as if content to let the other two speak, as if he wasn't involved at all. But as much as that man was trying to casually keep his distance, he was quite obviously the angrier of the two, quietly seething as he let his friend do the talking.

"Really? Because my friend here," he said, motioning towards the other man standing back from them with his thumb, "told me what you did for him. Sounded real nice up until-"

Something about the girl changed as he was saying that. She steeled herself in place, not letting the advancing man push her back any farther. Her heart told Matt that she expected the man to try and hurt her, and that she fully intended to put up a fight. He prepared to go down to the street and interfere, but didn't quite descend all the way yet. He had observed - in his way - enough guys back off from a girl when they see she's not messing around, and he waited a moment to give these guys that chance.

"Listen, dude, we're done here. Okay?" She cut him off. He stopped in his tracks for a moment, then took another step toward the girl in a decidedly more aggressive fashion. "You hear me? Back off." Her voice shifted on that last part, displaying her fear and uncertainty to everyone in the alley.

The sound of her fear made the man still advancing smirk as he said, "Right. Honey, we just want to have a conversation. I don't wanna hurt you. You wanna hurt her, Derek?"

The silent man finally spoke, "I sure don't." It sounded even less sincere than his friend, and the girl clearly didn't buy it either.

Suddenly, the girl took two steps forward, hauled her arm back and sent a punch flying at the encroaching man's face. He yelped in surprise and bent over, hand pressed to his face. She wasn't really big enough to pack a ton of power into the hit, but Matt could tell she had hit him harder than either of them would have guessed she was capable of, and it obviously took the man by surprise. The girl took the opportunity to run past him and out of the alley, but the second man pushed off the wall and grabbed her around the waist as she tried to escape. She was very petite, and he lifted her off the ground with ease and easily deflected her flailing and kicking.

Matt decided it was past time to step in. As he descended the fire escape, the girl had begun to scream but all it got her was a hand over the mouth and a threat whispered in her ear, "Cut it out. No one's here, it's the middle of the bloody night. Don't make me shut you up myself, you stupid bitch, because I will." He punctuated his statement with a slap to the side of her head. It was open-handed and not as hard as a punch, but it still apparently dazed her.

The kicking had stopped, whether because of the threat or because of exhaustion, it wasn't clear. The man the girl had hit was watching silently from afar now as his friend holding her slung her face first down to the ground. He put a foot on her back, trapping her against the rough floor of the alley. She made a swipe at his leg behind her back but couldn't quite reach.

"Let her go," Matt growled from the shadows. Both men stopped to look around, unable to find where it originated from. After a moment, "Don't make me say it again."

When neither man stepped away, he sprang at the one with his foot still holding the girl down. He was forced to back up, releasing her. Matt noticed that she wasn't moving, but he had to take care of the two men in the alley before he can check on her. Much like the rest of the night, the fight was simple and quick; the men clearly weren't prepared to fight anyone but the young woman they had attempted to corner.

He had been tempted to punch until the bastards were blacked out, but since the girl still wasn't moving and he needed to take care of her, he chose to let the guys go. What the man that grabbed her had done was assault, which he could be arrested for, but the other guy never actually touched her, and Matt knew the odds of him receiving any punishment for his part in the event. Besides, since she still wasn't moving, it was possible she needed real attention and she probably wouldn't want these guys anywhere near her, even if they were unconscious.

In the end, it was easier to let them both go than to get one out of the way to incapacitate the other until cops arrived. Besides, if he let one of them go there was the chance he'd return with reinforcements. It was better to let them think they got off easy so they wouldn't try again. "Get out of here," he growled in his most threatening tone. "And don't bother her again."

One of the men, flat on his back, practically leapt up when given the chance to retreat. The other was breathing raggedly but still on his feet, bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He was hesitant to leave but when Matt started toward him again he decided to run as well, shouting hoarsely after his friend who had already ran.

Turning back to the girl, he kneeled beside her. He could tell from the lack of heat she gave off that most of her skin was covered; she wasn't dressed in skimpy clothing like most of the girls stumbling out of the local clubs around here were. She was still laying on her stomach, not having moved an inch, but from her breathing he could tell she wasn't knocked out, just breathless and scared frozen. He was able to faintly smell blood but not a lot; he concluded she probably scraped her hands or face when she was forced to the ground. He laid a hand lightly on her back, making her jump. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly as he pulled his hand back. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

Thinking she was going to attempt to get up, he gave her space. Instead she pushed herself up just enough so she could curl into a ball laying on her side. She swallowed before her shaky voice could force out, "Who are you? Just … just leave me alone, okay? Please don't hurt me." She finally looked at him and was even more startled after looking at his face, likely put off by the mask. After all, it was meant to be intimidating just as much as a way to conceal his identity. For a moment he was grateful that part of his armor had been torn so he was just in his black clothes again tonight. The sight of devil horns probably would have been too much for the poor girl.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said to her slowly, trying to be reassuring. Her breathing didn't slow. "You're safe now. They're gone."

She snorted miserably. "Yeah because obviously the guy in a sketchy black mask hovering around means me no harm and just wants to be friends."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. It had been a while since he had to prove he wasn't the villain, especially to someone he had saved. It was somewhat disheartening but he tried again. "I'm trying to help you."

"Mmhmm," she sounded out, still clearly unconvinced.

They sat in silence for a minute. He wasn't sure how he could help her. She was still immobilized by fear and he couldn't just leave her here curled up next to a dumpster. He was pretty sure the guys weren't coming back, but it still didn't feel right to walk away when she still seemed so fragile.

"Want me to walk you home?" he offered. Again, it wasn't something he usually did, but he wasn't needed elsewhere and the young girl seemed really shaken.

"Oh yeah, lead the masked man I watched beat up a couple guys back to my empty apartment, that sounds stellar," she said cynically. Her heartbeat was starting to even out, so Matt was pretty sure she wasn't actually afraid of him, at least not as much as her comments and reluctance suggested. She was obviously trying to to push him away with her words and not let him get close, but it wasn't from fear. At least not fear of him specifically, anyway.

He really wanted to help her, but her obstinance was getting frustrating. He threw his hands in the air. "All I want is to help. Tell me how I can help."

She remained silent, just watching him. She knew he was dangerous. He had come out of nowhere and beat the crap out of two guys who could barely walk away afterward. Yeah, she supposed she was grateful for the rescue, but she still didn't want to hold hands and skip home with him. Her wariness had helped her survive on her own as long as she has. She looked at everyone and everything with suspicion, it was her ally, at times her only one. Just because this guy had been the hero so far tonight didn't mean he didn't have other plans for later. She had heard of guys who saved a girl just to catch her at a vulnerable point. How was she supposed to know and trust what this guy wanted if he wouldn't even show her his face? What was shadier than wearing a mask?

Matt read her silence. He could practically feel her skeptical gaze sweeping over him again and again and decided to break one of his biggest rules. Resigned, he sighed and asked, "Would it help if I took off the mask? Do you want me to take off my mask, Rosalie?" He asked kindly, using the name he had heard the other man in the alley use.

She flinched when he used that name. Her response was automatic, "No. Don't call me that."

He immediately sensed something off about her compulsive response, but he didn't want to make her even more upset and undo any small progress he had made. "I'm sorry," he said carefully. Correcting his earlier thought, something was off about this girl in general. He didn't know what, but still every bone in his body ached with his desire to help her. He repeated, "Would you like me to take off my mask?"

The girl remained silent, but Matt thought he heard a light rustling that could have been her nodding yes at his offer. Honestly, he hadn't thought this far ahead. He knew he wasn't going to be able to help this girl unless she trusted him, and clearly the mask was causing her serious anxiety. But was it worth it? Was one young, scared girl reason enough to potentially expose his identity? He had chased the guys off, he had done his duty. If he left right now she would eventually brush herself off and go home. Was it really so important to make her feel safe when he had already ensured that she was safe?

He listened to the surrounding streets. There were a few clubs within several blocks, but aside from those the neighborhood was empty. All the people were crowded around blasting music, none straying more than half a block from the party spots. No one had even walked by this alley since this all started.

Sitting back against the wall, a good few feet from the girl, he decided to try talking her down a little first. Maybe he could help her relax without showing her his face. "Would you like to tell me your real name?" he asked, having gathered from her earlier outburst that the one he had used wasn't actually hers.

"Can't say that I do," she replied.

"Please let me help you somehow," he begged. "There must be something I can do."

That last remnant of suspicion was tough to shake. She didn't really think the man in the mask was going to hurt her. But this guy had materialized from the shadows and let's be honest, there's no way that's not weird. However, her experience told her that if a guy wants something from you and you're alone in a dark alley, he doesn't wait around and ask your name first. She still wasn't totally sure what he wanted from her, but she didn't think it was anything perverted or dangerous, so she decided that as long as she was in control, she would let him help.

"If you tell me your name I'll let you help me up," she ventured cautiously.

He wasn't sure that was a good idea. It was still likely that she'd ask him to take the mask off, and when he did it wouldn't take long to figure out that he's blind. Throw a name on top of that and that's getting way more specific than he wants to be. But maybe if he gave her that bit of info, she'd let him keep the mask. So he stood and offered her his hand, replying just as cautiously, "It's Matt. Can I help you up now?" She hesitated to take his hand, plainly skeptical of his answer. But she had asked and he had answered fairly quickly, so she conceded that he had fulfilled his end of the bargain she'd proposed.

After she took his hand, he pulled her off the ground in one swift motion. The sudden movement made her head spin, and she fell back against the nearby dumpster trying to balance and catch her breath.

"Can I ask your name?" he politely pressed again, hoping that he had built a little good will with her.

Laughing shakily, she answered him, "Ask away, cowboy."

He sighed and put a hand to his face. He really needed to watch his phrasing with this girl. "Please? I'd like to know your name."

"I bet you wou-" she began to deflect as if without even thinking before cutting herself off. "Fine. It's Penny."

Her heart went out of beat as she said it and he said flatly, "No, it's not."

Pursing her lips, she took a minute to think, seemingly weighing her options. "Shaina."

"No."

"Maggie."

"No."

How was he doing that? Maybe in her exhaustion she was easier to read than usual. Or maybe it was just really obvious at this point that she wasn't going to give her real name. She phrased the next one as a timid, hesitant question, "Jasmine?" When his somewhat annoyed expression didn't change, she threw a couple more out there, pointlessly hoping maybe he would hear one he believed. "Ruth? Sasha? Beth? Audrey? Raquel?" She couldn't see most of his face but his displeasure was clear. "Joanna?"

He didn't even bother refuting her answers one by one. Sighing, he said, "Okay, okay, stop, I get it. If you won't tell me what your real name is, can you at least give me something to call you?"

She considered this offer. She never told anyone her real name anyway but he was basically giving her permission to lie to him. That was refreshingly different. As she did every time she told someone "her" name, she prepared to step into it. She didn't just keep her name a closely guarded secret, she abandoned it entirely. "How about Karen?"

He grimaced. It was his own fault; he told her to pick a name and she did. But he only had room for one Karen in his life. "You seriously had to pick that one?" he muttered.

"Ooh, I see I hit a nerve. Fine, call me Hope."

Finally. Getting even a fake name out of this girl was like pulling teeth. "Thank you, Hope. Are you okay now?" he asked, hoping her dizziness had subsided. Because if it hadn't, it was likely she had a concussion and he wasn't sure how he could get her help with that. Hospitals tended to want to know who you are unless you're about to die in the next minute.

"Yes, I'm fi-" she said, taking a step forward and immediately toppling over to the side. Matt caught her and she didn't push him away. He decided not to push his luck and to help her sit back down. Still holding onto Hope, he led her a few steps away from the dumpster and helped her get her back against the wall before letting her slide down into a sitting position. "I'm fine," she said softly, not really speaking to Matt anymore.

Her repeated claims assuring him and the universe in general that she was fine definitely felt familiar. It was irritating - no wonder people hated it when he did that. He stood above her protectively for a minute before sighing. "I think you might have a concussion."

"Well isn't that unfortunate," she said bitterly. Matt noticed that she didn't bother disagreeing. And from someone so combative, that was practically the same as agreeing.

His own views against hospitals were strong and he knew trying to talk Hope into seeing a doctor would probably be the most hypocritical thing he's ever done in his life - and he was a lawyer who fought crime by breaking the law as a vigilante at night. So he decided to just talk some more. Maybe eventually he'd get somewhere. With his back to the wall across from Hope on the other side of the alley, he said, "How about we talk for a minute." While it could have been interpreted as a question, Hope got the message that this wasn't optional. "How old are you, Hope? Fifteen? Sixteen?"

She exhaled roughly. "I'm forty-nine," she said. "I know, crazy, right? What a strange world we live in-"

He crossed his arms sternly. "Seriously, Hope."

"Fine," she huffed. "I'm twenty-one. Sorry to disappoint."

"We both know that's not true either. C'mon, you can tell me."

She knew that this was probably the easiest question he was going to ask her. And while he seemed a bit frustrated, she was getting the distinct impression that he'd stay with her all night if she didn't let him help. "I'm eighteen." When all she got in return was a nod she couldn't believe it. "Seriously? I haven't said one true thing to you tonight and you believe me now? You aren't going to ask me again?"

Matt shrugged. "Don't need to. I know you told me the truth." She glared at him sourly. He picked up on a little of the negative emotion, but ignored it and continued, "Hope, I think we should get you home if you won't let me take you to a hospital. Do you think you can walk?"

She tried standing up again and had limited success. She stood up halfway, realized it would not end well if she continued, and sank back to the ground, trying desperately to make it look as if having to spend the rest of the night sitting on the filthy ground was her idea. "Maybe in another minute."

The fact that Hope had almost admitted that she was unable to stand caught Matt's attention. After so many stubborn displays of will from her tonight, it felt almost alarming that she may be letting her guard down by showing even slight vulnerability. He wished he could just believe that it was because he was slowly helping her relax as he had set out to do, but he could hear her voice slowly starting to sound different, and not in a way that seemed healthy to him. "Do you want to tell me what happened with those guys?"

"I would think you know the answer to that by now," she said almost tauntingly before letting out what sounded like a genuine laugh, but with just a touch of sadness.

He sighed, knowing that maybe he was being silly to think she was going to want to share anything with anyone, especially him. Especially after all she'd been through tonight. Finally, he decided if she was allowed to bargain, so was he. "I'll take off the mask if you tell me who those guys were."

"Mask first," she clarified.

This time it was Matt laughing. "You think I'm falling for that after all you've pulled tonight, Hope? No way. Story first." Well, can't blame a girl for trying.

Hope paused for a moment to weigh her options. She was nearly certain the masked man wasn't intending to hurt her. But if that was true and he wasn't going to hurt her, what would he do if she refused? She couldn't believe that after all the lies and evasion he put up with from her that not telling him the details of what prompted the attack would be what pushed him over the edge. He seemed to be an expert at reading people, but Hope wasn't so bad at it herself, and this guy was not giving off any vibes that caused her to fear for her safety with him around. Actually, though she would never admit it, she felt safe with him there; he gave off a feeling of protection that she hadn't known in a long time.

So the question wasn't so much about whether she trusted him to not hurt her or even whether she doubted he would hold up his end of the deal. At this point, it was about control. "If I tell you what happened and you take off the mask, will you answer a few questions for me?" Her number one question was probably why he was wearing a mask in the first place, or some variation of how or why he saved her. She was already all but certain this was the Devil of Hell's Kitchen she'd heard about, but she was still curious.

He tilted his head, focusing on the street for a moment. Someone had been straying closer to the alley than the other partygoers had, but a taxi picked them up before they could come too close. Realizing this probably looked like contemplation to her, he decided to play it off as such; he didn't want to scare her by reminding her there were other people in the city who could stumble upon them. In the end he simply nodded and gave her time to gather her thoughts.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she sighed. "I only knew one of the guys. His name was Derek, we met at a bar last week. He was the one who grabbed me - I … I don't know who his friend was."

"And why?" he asked after a minute of silence.

"Why what?" she asked back, startled at being brought back from being lost in thought.

Matt stifled a sigh, he could tell this time she was just somewhere else mentally, but after how difficult she'd been so far he wasn't about to let her go without explaining more. "Why did they come after you, Hope?"

"Oh," she whispered in the smallest voice he'd heard come from her. "I, uh, went home with him. We slept together," she admitted. She was of legal age and for a lot of people this was perfectly normal, so he wasn't sure why he could detect shame in her tone until she continued, "After he fell asleep I stole some stuff. Mostly cash that was lying around, but also some jewelry that must have belonged to another girl living there. And a cheap camera. Then I left."

"Is… is that something you do often?" Her tone had told him that she wasn't proud of what she did, but she seemed more broken up about admitting it aloud than she did about actually doing it or having gotten caught. He tried to keep his own tone and face neutral so she wouldn't feel criticized or uncomfortable and shut him out entirely.

"Often? No. But it wasn't the first time," she confessed. "A few times a year to make ends meet." Her voice was muffled from resting her head on her knees, but from something else too. Matt could smell the salt and realized she was crying.

He nodded as he took in her answer but then stopped abruptly as his head snapped up. She said that as if it's been going on for years, but she was only eighteen. Surely that can't be right. He hoped with everything he had that that wasn't right. Even knowing her only this short time, he recognized that Hope was tough - she was a fighter and she was determinedly independent. And that didn't usually come about from the happiest of circumstances. That he knew first hand.

He also knew he needed to be careful about his next question. Because if he pressed too hard, he was unlikely to get another single word out of this girl. "Do you live on your own, Hope?"

Sniffling, Hope replied, "Yeah. I grew up in Ohio. I came to New York when I was 15."

"Alone?" he asked, though he didn't really need to. Everything about Hope screamed 'alone', from her stubborn independence to her trust issues to how she just admitted she paid her rent. Hope didn't reply, just began crying harder, which Matt took as confirmation. "Do you have anyone you can turn to?"

Slowly the crying diminished. She pulled herself together and answered simply before breaking into sobs again, "No. No, I don't."

Matt could practically feel his heart breaking in his chest for her. And judging by her emotional state he guessed that hers was feeling much the same. He wasn't sure what else to say so he feebly said, "I guess I know the answer, but do you want to talk about it?"

Instead of dodging the question, she surprised him by laying out her past in simple pieces. "I was ten when my dad died. He was in the army, overseas. When I was fifteen, my mom and older brother died in a car accident. Massive pile up on the highway. The state was going to send me to live with my aunt and uncle and cousins in Maine," she trailed off.

"So can you go to them for anything now?" Matt asked cautiously. He saw a lot of himself in Hope, and he knew she was unlikely to go to anyone for help even if she could. She wasn't about to give up and beg for help from others. But it still needed asking.

"My uncle is a bully and he passed that along to my cousins. Whenever I spent time with them as a kid they would…let's just say tonight isn't the first time I had a foot on my back holding me down," she said before getting choked up again. Her voice breaks as she says, "So I ran away and came here. Alone. No one knows where I am. No one even knows I'm alive."

"Hope…" Matt began, not sure how to comfort someone in this much pain, especially someone who would probably not welcome his help or pity. He certainly never wanted either from anyone when he was growing up, and he was only recently getting used to accepting help even from his closest friends. This wasn't something he was used to doing. When he left his apartment every night all he wanted was to help people. But this wasn't what he had imagined he would be doing. At all.

Hope choked on another sob. Her voice wavered as she finally let out, "It feels now like I've always been alone. And like I always will be. I don't know what I thought I'd find here. But here I am, three and a half years later and what do I have? Trouble paying my rent with a crappy job, no human connections and a concussion to show for it. Maybe I should have accepted things and gone to Maine. I…I need to get out of here," she said abruptly and tried to stand.

She couldn't stand straight and tried to take a few steps hunched over holding the wall, but soon fell to her knees and tried to crawl away, still openly sobbing. She wasn't sure where she was trying to go or how in the world she was going to get there on her hands and knees, but she had just admitted far more than she meant to, and the only thing in her mind that was clear was that she needed to be alone. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. Staying here with the person she had just told her story to, her deepest secrets, was not an option.

Deep down, she knew that if she could tell anyone about all this, it was probably this man. He was a stranger, but he had secrets of his own to keep and it wasn't like he would broadcast what she had told him. He had no one to tell, no reason to expose anything she had said. Hiding from the world was her only objective, and judging by his mask, he was familiar with the idea. But her instinct to run had kicked in and for the moment she couldn't imagine anything other than running from this alley. Or crawling, if need be.

Matt rushed from his position across the alley to stop her. He caught her before she could go any farther and kneeled in front of her, holding her shoulders. "Wait," he said over her tears. "Listen. I know what it's like to be alone, okay? I really do."

"Really?" she replied bitterly. "You know what it's like to have no one care about you? What it's like to be cut off and isolated from everyone around you?"

"You have no idea," Matt muttered. He had used almost those exact words before; isolation was a word he could use to describe a lot of his past before he met Foggy - and even a little today when it came to his friend's distaste for how he spent his evenings.

It was just too much for Hope. She was telling this stranger far more than she had told anyone in years, and it was only highlighting how alone she was in the world. She again tried desperately to crawl away, to be anywhere but here. If she was going to feel alone no matter where she was, she wanted to crawl into the comfort of her bed to continue pitying herself there instead of on the ground in an alley. "Just let me go," she tried to say through her tears, but the words sounded completely unintelligible.

Closing his eyes, Matt scrambled to think of a way to make this better. Once he thought of it, he didn't think twice before whipping off his mask. Still crying, she had her head down and tried to crawl forward. He put one hand firmly on her shoulder and another under her chin to force her to look at his face. She tried to jerk her head away and instead of forcing it back he begged, "Hey, hey, hey, Hope, look at me, okay? Look at me."

Hope looked up to see the mask finally off, but it was too little, too late. She was relieved to have a face to put to this confusing figure, but it wasn't like knowing what he really looked like changed anything. After she had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't hurt her, it had been about being on even ground. If she couldn't hide why shouldn't he be stuck out in the open too? But now she was too consumed with being anywhere but here to even really look at him. But he held her firmly in place with a single hand on her shoulder and after pulling herself together a little, she finally looked him in the eye…as he looked straight ahead with a vague, blank look in his eyes. Confused she started to say, "Wha-?"

"I've been blind since I was nine," he told her. She wanted to get away still but couldn't deny she was intrigued, and so leaned back to a kneeling position while continuing to stare in confusion. "My dad died not long after and I ended up in an orphanage. Let me tell you, it's one of the loneliest places in the world."

"But…you…you can't be serious," she sputtered. How was this possible? "You saved me, you fought those guys, how…?" He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head slightly and cast his eyes down and away, the facial expression equivalent of the vaguest of shrugs. Completely unsure what to say next, she without thinking said, "Shouldn't you…have a dog or something?"

Although it annoyed him when Foggy used to suggest he get a dog - in college after he'd had a few "accidents exploring the campus" - hearing Hope say it with such genuine confusion in her voice made him laugh, which in turn made her smile in relief. "I manage," he said simply.

"I'd say so," she muttered. She had been in disbelief that anyone had come to her rescue. She'd had so much tragedy in her life, so being attacked in an alley had felt scary but oddly destined in the moment. Sure, she had intended to fight back, but she felt strangely resigned about it when it was happening. It almost felt like the logical way her life would go at this point. But then someone had come out of nowhere and saved her, and as impossible as that seemed, he was also blind. How crazy was that? Taking advantage of the current light atmosphere, she asked, "So are all blind people secretly ninjas or is that just you?" Her heart picked up a little, but Matt recognized it as amusement rather than anything negative.

Her tone was humorous, but considering the topic, Matt could only assume she was still curious. "Just me. I think," he added with a smirk. This was the most at-ease she'd seemed all night so he said, "How about we get you home? We can go real slow," he reassured her. She nodded and he took her hand and helped her stand much more slowly than he had last time. "Just stand against the wall for a few minutes. Then we'll see about walking," he advised her.

Hope stood with her back to the wall and her head tilted upwards, breathing deeply. The quick turn from her sobbing earlier to how she felt now hit her hard, but somehow that just amplified the feeling. This was the best she'd felt all night, even before those guys had cornered her. She actually felt free to enjoy the night air for the first time in ages. Honestly, she couldn't totally explain the lightness she felt. It wasn't that long ago she was fearing for her life, and while it was a relief that someone had saved her, she wasn't sure why she felt better now than she had all night. Or in a lot longer, if she was truthful with herself. But now that she felt this way, she couldn't bear to let it go. Not yet. She wasn't sure why she suddenly trusted this man so completely either. What he did and what he was capable of despite his disability was beyond belief, but it wasn't as if that made him inherently trustworthy. Yet somehow his confession of not only his identity but also how he really could relate to how Hope felt was a solid connection between them. And after being starved of real human connections for so long, it felt all the more amazing. She had revealed to him more about her past than she told anyone, and he had revealed his face and name and story to her, clearly not something someone who wears a mask does lightly.

Eventually, she turned to face Matt, planting her shoulder against the wall instead of her whole back. She smiled before realizing that he couldn't see it, but then recognized that this smile wasn't for his benefit. It was all hers. Even though this didn't really change how alone she felt going forward, maybe not being alone in being alone was enough for right now. "I just realized I haven't thanked you. I don't know what those guys would have done to me. And…thanks for listening. I know I'll probably never see you again," she said with a twinge of sadness that he easily picked up on. He could hardly believe this was the same girl from earlier until he heard that tone again. "But thank you," she added softly.

He wished that she could have kept that upbeat tone she'd had a moment ago. Realistically, he knew that her flood of relief from finally feeling safe and standing steady couldn't last. He was going to walk her home and she was going to keep living a lonely life if she didn't put effort into changing it. But he hoped maybe the connection he'd made with her here could help her see a little bit of hope of her own. "Let's get you home." He took off his gloves and put them in his pocket with his mask, hoping to just look like a guy dressed in black. Offering her his arm, he tells her, "Okay, I'll help holding you up but you need to lead the way since I don't know where we're going."

As she wraps her arm around his, she sheepishly admits, "It's just a couple blocks. I could probably do it myself if I had to…" she trailed off.

Matt reached out his hand to reassuringly touch hers wrapped around his other arm. It was similar to the way Foggy led him when they walked together, but with more weight leaned on him. "You don't have to."

Hope smiled and took her first steps forward. She was leaning on him pretty heavily but he held her up easily. At first they walked in silence, until after about half a block Hope asked him, "How do you do it if you can't see?"

He wrinkled his nose, not wanting to fully answer the question. Despite keeping up the conversation, Hope seemed exhausted and she didn't need the entire 'world on fire' speech. Struggling to sum it up more simply, he settled on, "My senses are…unusually heightened. I can hear and smell and taste things others can't. I was trained to fight using only a picture in my head of where things are."

"That's amazing, you know. I wish I could be that strong." At first she meant physically strong enough to protect herself so she wouldn't need strangers in masks to come save her. But after thinking for a minute she continued, "It couldn't have been easy in that orphanage. I know how feeling alone in the world feels, after everyone you love is gone. But not being able to see anything, whether you can hear extra or whatever or not, that's a whole different divide. I hope I never have to know what that's like," she concluded in a whisper.

He couldn't help but nod in reply. He wished no one else had to experience it either. Sometimes he felt bad that he had his enhanced senses, because that made things so much easier for him. Sure, he still dealt with the way people treated him differently, and it was true that he couldn't truly see the way everyone else does. But when he thought of being normally blind, like every other blind person on the planet, it actually scared him. He wasn't sure he could survive that way if it ever came to it, and he felt almost like a fraud. There were times he felt all the other disabled people in the world were far stronger than he'd ever be. And even though he had these abilities and he could tell when people were lying and hear things from a mile away, he still missed seeing the little things. Like colors, or being able to read normally, or seeing what people actually looked like instead of approximations in his head. He did miss seeing the sky and he desperately wished he could know what Karen or Foggy or Claire looked like. And he wouldn't wish any kind of blindness on even his worst enemy, not even Wilson Fisk.

Now that it seemed they were speaking freely, Matt decided to tackle a sensitive subject. "So why is it you haven't made any connections since coming here? You've been here long enough to make friends and stuff, haven't you?"

She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably and fidgeted before answering. "At first, I was so sure that someone would figure out that I was not supposed to be on my own and I'd be dragged to Maine. I was so paranoid about it that I stopped using my real name. Everyone I saw was a threat, either to my safety or my independence. I didn't trust anyone so I couldn't get close to anyone." She looked away, unable to look at him despite the fact that she realized it wasn't as if he could see her anyway.

As if on cue to emphasize her point, a man approached them after locking up a nearby business. Hope stopped in her tracks and swayed a little, but Matt held her steady. The man said to Hope, "Diana! I haven't seen you all week, are you alright?"

She squeezed Matt's arm, asking for both literal and figurative support. Her voice was as peppy as she could muster but still still sounded exhausted through the facade. "Of course, Mr. Sherman. I've just been busy, I'm sorry."

"It's been a week since Katie quit, I need an answer from you if you still want her old job," he told her carefully. Matt could sense he was under examination now and just gave a vague smile and directed his gaze in Hope's direction.

"I need to talk to my manager at the library about the hours, I can get back to you on Tuesday," she promised. Listening to her heartbeat, she was telling the truth about that at least.

"Sounds good!" the man exclaimed before adding, almost suspiciously, "So who's this fella? He your boyfriend or something?"

Hope dipped her head back in fake frustration. "That's for me to know…." she trailed off with a laugh. Matt noted that she was just a little too good at this. Far too good at talking and being neighborly and yet saying absolutely nothing at the same time. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, she had shut him out completely at first. But at the same time it gave him hope that Hope could turn that skill, of being friendly while keeping people away, into just being friendly with people. Even though she had a clear wall erected, this man still cared about her wellbeing. She only had to let him past it.

"And me to never find out, isn't it always with you," he replied good-naturedly. "Well, I'll see you Tuesday then?"

Hope nodded and gave a small wave before pulling Matt forward a step to continue their journey back to her apartment as the old man went on his way in the opposite direction. As soon as his back was turned, she slumped in exhaustion. Matt asked her curiously, "Diana?"

She sighed and answered in a tone completely devoid of the energy that was there just moments before, "Another fake name. Mr. Sherman helped me out with some free meals when I first moved here. Said he didn't have a job for me then but if one opened up he'd let me know. He's always been nice but…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

Just as Matt was wondering how many names Hope had used in the past three years, she stumbled on the curb of the street they'd just crossed and let go of his arm. He caught her just in time, but she was clearly shaken over it. "How much farther?" he asked, worried that he may have to literally carry her the rest of the way.

"End of this block," she answered, yawning. She seemed to be almost falling asleep standing up. He held her upright, concerned if she passed out on him he wouldn't know where to take her, so it was imperative that he kept her awake.

"So do you really work at the library?" He asked in an attempt to keep her talking. When she didn't reply he touched her arm. "Hope? You with me?"

At first she didn't answer and he was worried she had reverted back to not telling him anything. After all the progress they had made, was she shutting him out again? But no, he got his answer when her head snapped up and she said, "What? Oh, library? Yeah I started volunteering there when I was sixteen and after two months they hired me."

It was evident that she was beyond exhausted, but her pace was good and she was walking straight with minimal help, so when she didn't make any attempt at continuing conversation he just let it go. Eventually, they stopped in front of a building. Going up the few short steps, she entered the code to unlock the door. Without even having to ask, she told him, "Third floor. No elevator. Sorry."

He nodded, moving to follow behind her on the steps. She held the railing tightly and he reassured her, "I'm right here," when she hesitated.

They made it up to the third floor without incident and were walking down the hall when he told her, "Someone's coming. Are you okay?" She nodded, which he easily knew because her head was resting on his arm.

"Shoot, it's Moira," Hope said, suddenly wide awake and voice in a panic. "I, um…I need you to just go with this, okay?" He nodded for her, confused more than anything else, as she pasted a big smile on her face.

"Courtney!" the woman, apparently named Moira called out. She was not much older than Hope. When she was close enough she squeezed Hope's other arm and said, "Sweetie, how have you been?"

"Just fine, honey," Hope said, but with a southern accent. It took Matt everything he had not to jump at the change. If he could see, now is when he'd look at her to see if she'd lost her mind. Instead, he attempted to 'just go with' this as Hope had begged and just looked down at her neutrally.

"And who is this?" Moira asked, clearly referring to Matt, looking him up and down.

"Uh, hi," he said simply, trying to keep up with what was happening but making the effort to stretch a friendly smile across his face.

The woman turned to Hope and said, "Sweetie, you know how to pick 'em." She then turned to Matt and said suggestively, "And you, sir, are in for a wild evening. Have fun!" She then turned to walk past them and slapped Matt on the ass on the way, making him jump in surprise and blush wildly.

"What the hell was that?" Matt whispered in shock as they continued their walk down what now felt like an endless hall.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Hope whispered back, still with an accent, while she looked over her shoulder to make sure the woman was gone.

Finally they stopped and Hope went digging through her bag for her key. At least a full minute and several expletives later, she located her key and let herself into her apartment. She left the door open for Matt, but he stopped, leaning on the doorframe before asking, "Uh, did you want me to come in?"

He waited for a response from Hope for what seemed like a little too long before he heard a loud thud. He ventured inside what was thankfully a fairly clean and obstruction-free apartment and followed the sound of her heartbeat. "Hope?"

"Matt, can I have a little help?" she asked in a small voice. He noticed that this was the first time she had actually used his name all night, despite asking for it early on. But that point was pushed from his mind when he realized the voice came from the floor about five feet beyond the corner she had rounded. He kneeled next to her on the floor and she started to tell him about the woman from the hall, speaking normally again. "Sorry about Moira. She thinks I'm a party girl from Kentucky," she said shyly, averting her eyes yet again despite knowing he can't see them either way.

Before he could remind himself that there were more important things right now, like the fact that Hope was on the floor again, he asked incredulously, "Why?"

Hope groaned. "Because I was sixteen and stupid when I met her and wanted to see if I could pull it off? We have lunch sometimes. I think she thinks of me as a casual friend but I'm more of a mooch," she confessed. "I only talk to her when I can't afford food."

"Sorry I asked," he muttered. His urgent tone returned as he asked, "I'm going to help you up, and then I need you to do something for me, okay?"

"Alright," she agreed but then after thinking for a moment added, "but whatever Moira thought was happening tonight is off the table."

"Hilarious, Hope," Matt groaned, starting to worry. He was glad she'd felt safe enough with him to open up, and he was relieved he could help her get home. But her behavior was getting odder and he just hoped that it was from the exhaustion of such a long and stressful night and not a brain injury. Or, he thought, maybe odd is Hope's normal and this was just her being herself in front of him, which would be a big deal. Regardless, he needed to help her up and figure out what he could about how she was feeling. He pulled her to her feet, slowly again, and put a hand on each arm to hold her steady in front of him. "What I need you to do, once you feel steady enough, is to go to the bathroom and tell me if your pupils are the same size. Can you do that for me?"

Without a word, Hope walked away to her bathroom down the hall. He heard her flip the lightswitch and after a moment she asked, "Why am I doing this?"

He wished Claire was here. He knew the various signs to check for but he was no doctor. He briefly considered calling and asking Claire to come here and check Hope, just to be sure. But he knew she was either asleep or at work and tended to get crabby when either was interrupted for non-emergencies, though he was getting more and more concerned that this qualified as urgent. "It's a sign of a concussion."

"I think they're the same," she called out eventually before turning out the light and walking back to him. Without even having to ask, Hope took him by the hand and led them both to sit on the couch.

"Next, is anything blurry?" he asked, going down a mental checklist of concussion symptoms. Obviously, when Claire had checked him for concussions so many times before, she hadn't needed to ask him that one, but he still knew to ask.

"No," she said with a yawn.

"Ears ringing?"

"No."

"Headache?"

"Well, kinda, but -"

He nodded, noting her answer but continuing, not pressing about the headache. After a long stressful night he'd almost be surprised if her head wasn't hurting. "Nausea?"

"No," she said, but he noticed the rhythm of her heart immediately.

"Okay so you are nauseous," he said, mostly to himself.

She huffed in response. "What, can you read my mind now, too?"

"No, but I can hear your heartbeat," he explained absentmindedly. So her head was hurting and she was nauseous and she had been slurring speech at times and she had been dizzy on and off. Not great but it could just be nerves and exhaustion or even a pre-existing condition he didn't know about. For the millionth time he wished Claire was there to help and decided that he really did need to call her. Hopefully he would catch her in a decent mood.

She reached forward and touched his knee to get his attention. "Matt, thank you for caring so much but I really want to sleep." He's definitely hesitant. "I promise I'm okay. Can I sleep?"

He sighed, gathering his thoughts. There was certainly the chance that Hope was just fine and only needed some sleep after the rollercoaster this long night had been. But it was also possible that she needed medical attention and as much as he knew she wouldn't like it, he didn't want to just assume she was okay. Head injuries were serious and he couldn't just leave her. He stood up and paced a little. "Hope, I'll make you a deal. You can go to sleep now. But I want to call my friend and have her come over and check you out."

Hope scowled. The sleeping part of the deal sounded wonderful, the inviting someone else she didn't know to her apartment, less so. "But I'm fine! I just need sleep," she argued.

Matt scowled back at her for a second before realizing that was only going to make things tenser. But he wasn't backing down. He told her firmly, "Technically I shouldn't even be letting you sleep if you might be concussed. When I said I'd make you a deal, I didn't really mean to imply it was all that optional."

"Not much of a 'deal' then," she grumbled lowly before speaking up, "Listen. I appreciate the concern. But I don't really want to see anyone else. I want sleep."

"Hope -"

"- Matt! Please!" Of course now would be when she chose to be stubborn again. Sighing, he realized that dictating this decision wasn't what she needed to hear. As he was thinking how he could best convince her, she added quietly, "I…I don't want anyone else here. I don't want anyone else to know about…me. Thank you for everything you've done tonight. Really. But you can go and I'll be fine. I always am." As much as she tried to sound sure of that, Matt could easily hear the slight shake in her voice and noted that she definitely sounded a little sad again.

"Nothing is ever going to get any better if you don't let anyone in, you know," he whispered to her after a moment. He could practically hear the fake smile melt away from her face. "The people I met tonight on the way back here, they care about you. Whether you like that or not. Why can't you let anyone help?"

Hope fell silent for a moment while she thought about that. Why couldn't she let anyone in to help her? The worry about being sent to Maine and forced to live with abusive family wasn't valid anymore. They couldn't make her go if she was eighteen, right? That had always been the main reason she didn't let people in…wasn't it? But if they couldn't make her go to them, why was she still so scared to let anyone help her now that the main threat had passed? Matt had scared her at first - and who could blame her for that one - but that hadn't gone terribly. He had helped her get home and been so kind and he was still worried about her even now. It would have been easy for him to think his job was done after seeing her home, but he was still here next to her and looking so concerned for her wellbeing.

"I don't know," Hope whispered sadly. "I guess I just don't trust anyone. I was so worried I'd have to face my family in Maine," she said and when Matt looked like he was going to interject she continued, "I know that's not on the table anymore. But I never got out of the habit of distrusting everyone. Fearing everyone," she added quietly. Because it was true; she feared everyone she met. Every person walking down the street felt like a threat and she couldn't bear to let anyone come into a position where they had the power to hurt her. And that meant no one could know her. Not just that, no one could even know that she existed, to the point where no one even knew her real name. When she had gone out to bars to find a guy to go home with and eventually rob, she hadn't just used a fake name, she made a point of not acting like herself. Usually she just acted drunk, despite the fact that she hadn't had a drop of alcohol - it wasn't worth the trouble of trying to get served any - and tried to put out of her head how much she wasn't looking forward to being touched by a strange man she'd just met.

With fear and indecision radiating off Hope, Matt tried a different tactic. "I get that you don't want people to know you. If no one knows who you are, how can they hurt you?" he asked rhetorically, holding up his mask. "How about I tell you about my friend. And why I trust her. Do you think that would help?" He sat back down next to her and reached out a hand to reassure her but after a moment he decided to retract it. If she was feeling vulnerable right now he didn't want to push it. Considering what he knew about her, he figured she probably wasn't the type who found comfort in another's touch. At least not anymore.

She couldn't be sure it would help, but it probably couldn't hurt. It was unlikely he was going to go on about how he trusts this person and at the same time give her reason not to, so she murmured her agreement.

Nodding, he began with, "Her name is Claire. She's a nurse. She's helped me out with some pretty bad stuff, so checking for and treating a concussion is probably the easiest thing I've ever asked her to do," he said with a laugh. His eyes were pointed in the direction of her coffee table, but he occasionally flicked them towards her. If it was anyone else she'd think he was making sure she was listening, but he didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. He was leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he continued, "We met when I was in my mask and she pulled me out of a dumpster, badly injured. Took me back to her apartment to help me. I wouldn't tell her my name either. It was bad enough she took my mask off to check my eyes." He gestured to his face and shrugged before continuing. "She saved my life without knowing my name, who I was, or how I ended up in her dumpster. I ended up returning the favor later, but that's…another story." Turning his head towards her, he raised his eyebrows, silently asking what she was thinking.

Hope had to admit she would probably like his friend. Claire sounded tough but definitely caring and more than capable of helping her. She also had to admit that as more time passed, she was becoming more sure herself that she did in fact have a concussion. This wouldn't be her first one; she had been hit in the head once in gym class and had another courtesy of the cousins she had run away to avoid living with. The way her head felt fuzzy and yet throbbed constantly was uncomfortably familiar and the nausea added on only made her even more sure.

When he realized she was still hesitant and that his description hadn't convinced her, Matt asked, "Is there something else you want to know?" After she winced at his conversational volume, he looked even more certain that calling his friend was the right call, but waited on Hope's response anyway.

"Is she going to insist I go to a hospital?" she asked hesitantly. While she was warming up to the idea of getting her head looked at by someone trustworthy in her own apartment, she didn't want to be forced to see any doctors. Besides being so exhausted she never wanted to leave her apartment again, she knew in the back of her mind she couldn't afford it anyway.

The question made Matt chuckle. "I'd be lying if I said she's never wanted me to. But considering she's stitched me up repeatedly and stopped my lung from collapsing and she still hasn't gotten me to go, I doubt she'll insist you need to." He smiled at his own comment but when Hope remained silent, his smile shifted into one meant to reassure her. It was a smile that said 'everything is gonna be okay,' and she tried to smile in return. "Look, she may recommend you see a doctor. May even try to convince you to if she thinks you're in any serious risk. But she is not going to force you to go anywhere or see anyone you don't want to. She can be stern about it, but she isn't going to drag you kicking and screaming or call an ambulance without your consent. You don't need to worry about any of that. I just want her to check you out. Either she'll say everything is fine or she'll recommend you see a doctor for some scans or something. She can't force you to do anything. She works hard enough already, she probably won't even have the energy to really fight about any of it," he told her jokingly.

The completely earnest look on his face was what finally pushed her over the edge and she nodded in response. It hit her a second later that he couldn't see that, but she could tell by his face he somehow knew she had. She wasn't sure what it was about him that made her want to believe him. He made her want to trust people again after all the trust he'd put in her after such a short time. Between his incredible abilities and his overwhelming kindness, he was such a unique human being. So genuinely good. No, not everyone she met would be so kind or helpful or caring, but surely some people out there must be similar to some degree. "I don't have to tell her my name?" she asked him to confirm.

"I wouldn't tell her mine at first," he reminded her. "She called me Mike. She'll call you Hope or Jenny or Katrina or Ruby or whatever you want," he said with a smile, spouting names like she had earlier in the night, earning a soft chuckle from Hope. "So it's okay if I call her?"

She nodded tightly a few times before her shoulders sagged and she answered, "Fine, call her." There was a piece of her that regretted saying it the second it left her lips, but she knew it was probably the right thing to do, so she reminded Matt of the address as he headed for the hallway.

As he closed the door behind him, he wasn't sure why he had felt like he needed to leave to make this call. Hope knew what he was doing, there was no reason to hide. Yet, calling Claire still felt so personal and private that he wanted isolation, even from the person he was calling for.

Sighing and leaning his back against the closed door, it crossed his mind that Hope might lock it behind him. No, she wouldn't, would she? He listened for any sign that Hope was attempting to shut him out but all he heard was Hope yawning and a steady heartbeat coming from right where he left her on the couch. For a moment he felt bad for doubting her, but that moment quickly passed when he remembered he had a phone call to be making.

He pulled the burner phone from his pocket and dialed Claire's number on speed dial, still half listening to Hope in her apartment. Claire picked up after two rings. "Matt? I just got home from my shift and I'm exhausted so please tell me the damage isn't major."

"Well hello to you too, Claire," he said with a laugh. He couldn't blame her for the assumption but her tone mixed with the fact that she didn't even bother with a normal greeting amused him. "I'm fine, actually. But I was hoping you could come check on my-" he cut off. He was about to call Hope a friend. Maybe it was silly that he was concerned about something so minor, but he worried Hope would not approve of being called a friend considering how much she pushed people away. But he decided that wasn't something he really needed to get into. "My friend. I think she has a concussion and I'm worried about her."

There was a brief, stunned silence before Claire asked, "I know I said I'd be there when you needed me, Matt, but are you seriously asking me to come take care of your girlfriend? Hopefully, she's not a vigilante too, take her to the hospital like a normal person." The exasperation and exhaustion in her voice flooded through the phone.

"She's not my girlfriend. She's…It's a long story. Please?" He felt bad asking anything more of Claire after all she had done for him, especially when she sounded this exhausted, but he pressed on. "She's refusing to see a doctor. It was hard enough convincing her to let me call you."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Claire asked suspiciously. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing I can do for her if she does have a concussion. And the only way to definitively tell is with a scan. In a hospital. Are you trying to trick me into treating some criminal again? I am so not in the mood for this, Matt."

"It's nothing like that," he told her quickly. "Listen. She's someone I helped out when I was out for a walk tonight," he said, putting awkward emphasis on the words so she knew what he actually meant. It may be the middle of the night, but he wasn't taking any chances. As crazy as it was, he trusted Hope with his secret. Her neighbors, not so much.

The silence after his statement seemed to stretch for ages before Claire finally asked, "Are you guys in an alley somewhere or something? Is she conscious?" Matt breathed a sigh of relief, it finally sounded like she was coming around to the idea of helping Hope. "Because if she was knocked out she probably needs an ambulance more than an off-the-clock nurse."

"She's conscious," he confirmed for her. "But she's dizzy and nauseous and slurring some words and has fallen a couple times. I helped her get back to her apartment. Can you come see her?"

"Yeah, I'll come. But I'm going to say it again: there's not really anything I can do for her other than look-" She paused then, realization hitting her. "You...you want me to convince her to get help, don't you?" Before he could confirm or deny that accusation - aka, before he could decide whether to lie or not - Claire sighed, sounding so resigned it almost hurt to listen to. "On a scale of one to you, how hard will that be?"

"I really haven't known her that long…" he evaded.

"Answer the question, Matt."

"I'd guess…me and a half?" he ventured hesitantly. Hope was definitely not an easy sell on a lot of things, and since she was so hesitant to let him contact Claire at all, he figured that hospitalization would be something else she'd dig her heels in about. He heard Claire groan loudly before asking for the address, which he gave her, along with profuse thanks. She instructed Matt to attempt to keep his friend awake before hanging up without a goodbye.

Putting his burner phone back in his pocket, he let himself back into Hope's apartment. She was curled up on her side on the couch. Matt could tell from her breathing that she was awake but when her heart sped up as he approached, he realized she was faking being asleep. "Well, Claire is coming. Luckily she was home, not at the hospital, so she should be here soon," he said casually. Hope murmured something, still trying to fool him. With a sigh, he sat back on the end of the couch and lightly touched her leg before whispering, "I know you're faking it, Hope. Nice try though." She murmured something again and while he still wasn't exactly sure what she had said into her pillow, he was pretty sure it was profanity.

"Why can't you just let me sleep?" she grumbled, not moving from her position on the couch.

"You weren't asleep," Matt oh-so-helpfully pointed out.

It felt unfair. The "deal" he had offered was he got to call his nurse friend, and she got to sleep until she arrived. He had called Claire, but Hope found herself unable to sleep. It wasn't insomnia; being able to sleep well at night was one of the only things she had going for her normally. But for some reason, despite feeling like she was about to utterly shut down, sleep wasn't coming easily to her tonight. The obvious explanation was that she was still wired after such a stressful night, or that she had been attacked and was still feeling a little unsafe. But the fog in her brain didn't make her feel all that awake, and she still felt remarkably safe with Matt watching over her.

From what Matt knew about concussions, it was more important to keep the person from passing out than from sleeping in general, but he wanted to follow Claire's instructions anyway. She was the nurse, not him, and if he wanted Hope to listen to what Claire was going to tell her, he needed to follow Claire's orders too. From his own experience, he knew talking was the easiest and most obvious way to achieve that. "So, uh, did you like it in Ohio?" he asked somewhat awkwardly. But talking was talking. The goal was to get Hope participating too, but if he absolutely had to, he would talk to the furniture until Claire arrived if it kept Hope from sleeping. Or from regretting the decision to call Claire and kicking him out of her apartment. He was pretty sure they'd made enough progress that she wouldn't do that, but it had crossed his mind that she might shut him out, literally this time.

Luckily she decided to answer the question, with only a tiny sigh beforehand. "I guess so. I never knew anywhere else until I came here. It was home," she said sadly. He wondered why she chose New York. She almost seemed to sense his question and added, "I came here because I wanted to live in a city. Figured it would be easier to hide in a busy city with so many people who don't even know their neighbors. I guess I could have gone to Cleveland instead, but it just felt too close to home, like I needed to get farther away." She rolled onto her back and propped herself up on the pillow against the arm of the sofa, looking at Matt curiously. "Why?"

She was clearly suspicious. He reminded himself that she'd be less likely to clam up if this was a conversation rather than an interrogation. So he casually added, "I've actually never left this city. Even for college."

"Really?" she asked with a little more interest. "Never? Like, in your whole life?"

"Never, not even for a minute," he confirmed. He could feel her staring at him, but he wasn't sure what exactly she was trying to figure out. Despite all he had shared with her so far, he was hesitant to share the fact that he was a lawyer for a reason he couldn't pinpoint, so in case she was wondering about him and college, he decided to prompt her, "You had friends there, right? Have you kept in touch with any of them?"

"I had a few friends I was close to," she began sadly. Matt worried for a moment that he was guiding her down an unpleasant road, but he could hear the slight smile in her voice when she mentioned her friends' names. "Laurel and Kara. Close since 3rd grade. But…" She trailed off to a sad silence that seemed to sneak up on her. "But Kara's mom really didn't like me. I befriended the new girl at school freshman year. Her name was Ivy. She was super sweet, but had a really troubled home life. She ended up getting into drugs and committed suicide by overdose five months later. But Kara's mom had seen me with her and was suddenly convinced I was a bad influence."

The smile was completely gone from her voice, but she didn't sound as sad as he would have expected. She sounded resigned, like she'd gone through this a thousand times in her head and had lost any feeling about the situation. It wasn't a sad story anymore, it was just facts she kept detached from. He recognized it because it was how he usually thought about the time he spent in an orphanage as a child. It was part of his history but not part of his being; he wouldn't let it be.

She continued, "Kara's mom is the one who pushed for me to live with my family in Maine. I had said I would rather go into a foster home. But she contacted my social worker, calling herself my 'concerned advocate', and cited some study about how kids in similar situations do better with family than in group homes. How she found out about that part of my family I'm not sure, but she just wanted me as far from Kara as possible. Sam knew about my history with them and knew it was a bad situation but-"

"Wait, Sam? Who's she, your social worker?" Matt asked curiously. At this point he wasn't just trying to keep her talking, he was genuinely curious about the story Hope was sharing.

"He," she whispered. "Sam was the son of a family friend. We were close for years but just started to date a few months before the accident. My mom knew his dad going way back or something, and they lived just down the road from us. After the accident, Sam asked his parents to consider taking me in. But he was one of five kids and his dad had just lost his job. They couldn't afford one more kid in the house. At least not permanently. I know they would have taken me in in a heartbeat if they could have. They let me stay for a month, secretly. But when Kara's mom found out, she was pissed. She told me if I stayed anywhere her daughter could see me or hear from me, she'd call the police and social services. So I ran and I haven't contacted Kara since. Laurel's family wasn't nearly as bad, but her mom was a total gossip and if I had contacted her, Kara's mom would have heard about it and found a way to track me down. She was obsessive that way when it came to her precious only daughter," Hope spat the last words venomously.

"Obsessive? That's putting it nicely," Matt offered. The woman sounded horribly spiteful and toxic. The orphanage was horrible, no question, but when he thought of the idea of someone chasing him away from the only people left who cared about him, it made his stomach hurt. And if he'd had to leave this city to go who knows where all alone at fifteen, he doubted he would be much different than Hope is today: secretive, untrusting, stubbornly independent, cynical.

Hope sighed, sounding even more tired than before. "Yeah, I guess. When your options are be alone or be abused…I made a choice. So -" She cut off as she watched Matt suddenly stand up and head for the door a few moments before the knocking started.

Right before he opened the door for Claire, he turned back to Hope and asked, "You okay?"

She appreciated the question. She clearly wasn't okay, but he was still watching out for her. After mumbling something affirmative, she rushed to wipe her eyes dry of tears she hadn't even realized until then she was crying. Still facing over his shoulder towards her, he nodded and turned back to the door to open it.

He opened the door to greet her and Hope observed Claire from the couch as she gave Matt a tired smile. She had forgotten that Matt had told her Claire had been home; she'd been expecting her to turn up still in scrubs, but she was dressed in jeans and a navy shirt with sleeves halfway down her forearm and a delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist. She carried a bag on her shoulder that seemed a little big to be just a simple first aid kit, and Hope couldn't help but be a little anxious about what was inside. She told herself she avoided doctors out of necessity, but she was beginning to remember that they had always made her a little nervous when she was younger too.

After Claire and Matt had exchanged greetings, Claire put her hand on his arm, rubbing her thumb back and forth absently for a moment before stepping around him to greet Hope. Hope was still looking her up and down apprehensively when Claire gave her an extremely tired but still warm smile. "Hi, I'm Claire," she said as she sat down next to Hope and set her bag on the coffee table in front of the couch. "And you would be?"

"Hope," she answered simply. Normally she used a different name for every person she met, but she was starting to like the name. It probably had something to do with the caring and gentle tone Matt always had when he used it. She really liked the way he said it so sincerely, despite knowing it wasn't her real name.

"Nice to meet you Hope. Can you tell me what happened?"

Hope's eyes shifted to look at Matt, standing a few feet back from where Claire was sitting. His arms were crossed, which almost made him look upset, but he still had the concerned look on his face he'd been wearing most of the night. She asked him, "Do I have to?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but Claire beat him to it. "No, I guess not," she said gently, never taking her eyes from Hope's. "But it will help me understand what happened. Having context for injuries can help a lot."

Closing her eyes and nodding a few times, she tried to gather her thoughts. She reminded herself what Matt had said about Claire not taking any action Hope didn't approve of, and opened her eyes, though she directed her gaze away from the nurse and towards the floor. "Um. A couple guys cornered me in an alley. I punched one of them and the other grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up before throwing me to the ground. I landed on my head. Scraped my face," she said, gesturing vaguely to the small wound on her face that ran from her cheekbone to her temple. "I don't really remember hitting my head that hard but I guess I must have." In the back of her mind, she knew that what she said could imply a memory problem, which was definitely a bad sign. She wanted to take back what she said but knew she couldn't.

Claire nodded before reaching out and placing a hand on Hope's chin to direct her face back toward her so she could examine the damage the rough floor of the alley had done to the side of her face. "I'm sure that burns, but it's not a serious wound. I'll help you clean it but otherwise it shouldn't be a problem," she said sympathetically. "Did you black out when you hit the ground? What happened next?"

She really had to think about that one. Had she blacked out? She didn't think so, but she also didn't remember her collision with the ground being that jarring when it obviously was if she did indeed have a concussion. "Not as far as I remember," Hope admitted. Claire immediately understood what Hope meant but was refusing to say: that she definitely wouldn't rule it out. "When I was down, the guy stepped on my back to hold me down and that's when Matt showed up."

"The Devil of Hell's Kitchen strikes again," Claire said with a smile as she looked over her shoulder at Matt. Turning back to Hope, she said, "Matt mentioned that you were dizzy and fell a few times. Could you describe that to me? Is the dizziness constant or did it seem like the world just suddenly jerked sideways?"

"Mostly the second one. I had to hold onto Matt to get here but things weren't constantly spinning."

Claire pulled out a flashlight and asked if she could look in Hope's eyes. She nodded a few times while doing so, but she didn't look surprised or alarmed, which Hope took as a good sign. "So I definitely think you have a concussion," Claire said straightforwardly.

"Yeah, I thought so," Hope murmured. She hadn't meant to admit that she knew, but it wasn't as if she could deny the word of a seemingly competent nurse. "I really don't want to go to a hospital."

With a sigh, Claire said, "Matt warned me you guys had that in common. Look, Hope, I'll be honest with you. This concussion doesn't seem that bad. The impact wasn't intense enough to do that much damage, I can tell by the cut on your face that it could have been a lot worse. You will probably be fine without seeing a doctor as long as you rest." Matt stepped forward to protest and Claire told him shortly, "You wanted my opinion, that's my opinion."

Matt knew he should be relieved. Claire said Hope should be fine. But he worried that if things did get worse, there was no way Hope would see a doctor on her own. Claire was right, it was yet another thing they had in common. It was a type of stubborn that ran to the bone. "What if it gets worse?" he asked Claire.

The nurse was amused and annoyed all at once over how hypocritical Matt Murdock could be. She reached out to her bag to gather the supplies to clean Hope's scrape and answered him directly, "It could get worse but it's unlikely." She began sterilizing some gauze and turned to Hope and said, "This is gonna sting but trust me it's better than having an infected cut on your face. And our Hypocrite of Hell's Kitchen has a point. I get that you don't want to see a doctor. No one wants to see a doctor. But if things get worse or even just don't get better, you need to. If the headache I'm positive you have gets any worse, you need a scan done to be sure nothing more serious is happening in your brain. Same if the dizziness doesn't improve or if anything at all happens to your vision," she continued emphatically before looking straight into Hope's eyes and holding her gaze. "I'm serious, Hope. The damage can be permanent. I'm hoping you'll be smarter than this idiot here," she said, gesturing with her thumb at Matt behind her, without looking away, "and seek help if you need it."

"Claire," Matt began before she finally looked away from Hope and turned around to look at him.

"Don't you even start, Matt. I know you wanted me to come and scare this poor girl into going to a hospital, but the truth is right now she needs rest and quiet more than an MRI. You wanted me here for a medical opinion and you got it."

Hope was a little hurt for a moment hearing Claire say he wanted her to come and scare Hope into going to the emergency room. She couldn't help but feel manipulated. But that moment passed when she remembered when she was eight and needed her appendix removed. Hope was understandably terrified, and her mom being firm and no-nonsense about the situation was not helping, especially when she only perceived her as angry. But her dad came to her and explained that her mom was just worried about her and wanted what was best for her. He was understanding and compassionate and promised that mom wasn't angry but just scared. She couldn't help but feel the parallel now. Matt wasn't trying to trick her, he was just scared for her and chose the path he thought would help her best, determined to help at any cost.

It was an understatement to say Hope wasn't used to being cared about anymore. But the fact that this man she had only met tonight clearly cared about her so much made her feel warm inside. He had saved her from those two predators in the alley and now he was trying valiantly to save her from herself, both physically and emotionally. Maybe letting someone care wasn't so bad.

"I really want to sleep," Hope said. She was startled, she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Claire had already begun gathering up the supplies she'd used to clean Hope's face and smiled at her gently. "We'll be out of your hair soon, okay? I'm going to give you my number, and I want you to call me tomorrow before noon. Tell me how you're doing. I'll make sure you're coherent-"

"And still breathing," Matt added sternly, still looking upset that his plan did not work out the way he wanted.

Claire rolled her eyes, "Yes, Matt, she'll still be breathing. Relax. Anyway, Hope, check in with me and I'll give you more instructions and things to watch for then, because sweetie, you look so exhausted that I doubt you'd remember anything I have to tell you by tomorrow. Rest. Try not to do too much on your phone, let your brain rest as well as your body. Nothing strenuous or overly engaging. We'll talk in the morning. For now, I need to get home get some sleep myself," she instructed Hope with a smile before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. On her way out she placed a hand on Matt's arm and squeezed reassuringly for a second before showing herself out.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Matt asked not long after Claire left. He couldn't help being a little hyper-protective around Hope after all they'd been through in such a short time. He could sense so many similarities between the two of them and wished someone had shown him how to connect with people and accept help and care when he was her age.

"One nurse's opinion not enough for you, eh?" Hope joked with a tired smile.

He sat down next to her and pulled out his burner phone, turning it over a couple times in his hand before holding it out to her. "Would you mind giving me your number? I'll give you mine and if you ever need anything I am begging you to call me."

Hope blinked a couple times before a tiny smile formed on her face and she reached for the phone. "I was right."

"Right about what?" he asked, plainly confused.

"I remember thinking in that alley that if I didn't let you help me you'd stick around all night."

He put on an expression of mock insult, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"When all you want in the world is to sleep, it is a bad thing," she replied.

"Point taken," he said with a chuckle before standing up. "You're sure you're okay if I go? I should probably get some sleep too. Need to be at work early in the morning."

He began to back up a few steps toward the door when Hope jumped up to follow him, throwing her off balance for a moment before he caught her. She should have stood up slower, now he really will stay all night. Before he could say anything she insisted, "I'm fine. I just wanted to see you out."

Walking to the door, Matt can't help wondering if things are going to start looking up for Hope. He really wanted to believe things would get better for her. Halfway out the door, she grabbed his wrist. He tilted his head in question, gaze directed down at her. She seemed to debate with herself over what she wanted to say. Finally she decided to say what was on her mind. "Matt, thank you. For everything. And just so you know…my real name is Violet. But I really like Hope. I think I'll stick with it for a while," she said before releasing his wrist and going on tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek. Before he registered what was happening, she said goodnight and closed the door behind him.

He was suddenly a lot more certain that things would, in fact, get better for Hope. Smiling to himself, he climbed up the stairs to the roof and set off for home.

X

I really hope you guys enjoyed this. I've been working on it for months and I'm finally pretty happy with it. Reviews would mean so so much to me so please tell me what you thought of it.

I'd like to mention that I took some poetic license here and that I'm pretty sure all concussions should be checked by a doctor. I really was hit in the back of the head in gym class and it's given me migraines for a decade that basically rule my life. Head injuries are serious and please don't ignore one because you read a fanfic one time that said a made up character didn't need to see a doctor ;)