(A/N): This idea was in my head for weeks, so I put all my other projects aside and wrote this out. Daredevil is an amazing TV show that I love more every time I watch it, and I could rant about it for at least 20 minutes, but instead I wrote this up. It took a while for it to feel right, so there were quite a lot of changes made.

I don't know when Father Lantom was sure that Matt was Daredevil, so I'm leaving this scene's timeline up for interpretation. I set it up around the beginning of season 1 and before episode ten, but it doesn't really matter. Hope it's not total garbage, enjoy.

Matt heard the sirens following the trail of bodies he left behind. The curses the police spouted, some in amazement, some in frustration, danced in his ears. Smiling, Matt ran across the rooftops, his heavy breathing in sync with his light footfalls, and the pattering of rain flying along with him. He paused for a second on a familiar rooftop to hear whether or not he was being followed.

Radio chatter.

Scurrying rats.

Blaring sirens.

He's in the clear.

Leaping into the side alley, Daredevil was about to head home when something was heard. A heartbeat, one that he assumed was a late confessor, leaving the church beside him. Matt slipped into the shadows, ready to leave when the stranger called his name. "Matthew?"

He froze, his head turned slightly to the noise behind him. Father Lantom. There was a second of silence between them as Matt considered making a run for it. "Matthew," the priest called out again, "please, come out." His voice was filled with anticipation; Matt heard a soft bristling of cloth as the priest fingered the cuff of his sleeve in nervousness. For once, the devil felt cornered. Should he flee in hopes of delaying their inevitable encounter, or should he stay and make himself vulnerable to Father Lantom's kind scolding and muted judgement?

There was a silence between the two, an icy river dividing them, something that neither one of them wanted to cross. But, after a few long seconds, Matt dipped his toe into the water, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. He heard a quiet smile on his priest's face. "Father…" Matt started, but Father Lantom hushed him.

"You don't have to say anything, Matthew," the priest interrupted. "Come inside, you must be freezing." Without looking to see if Matt was following, Father Lantom took a step to the church door and opened it. Matt felt the warmth cling to his rain drenched shirt, and he hesitantly stepped in. Gliding his fingers along the pews, Matt kept his head down, a child ready for a scolding. Father Lantom came back from another room with a blanket in hand. He wrapped it around Matt's shoulders and sat him down on a pew. Sitting down next to him, the priest clasped his hands together and sighed. "You don't have to wear the mask," he said. "There's no judgement here."

Matt took off the mask, his arms feeling heavy and heart thumping in his chest. He folded it in his lap before staring down at the floor behind Father Lantom. "I'm sorry Father."

"What for?"

Matt fingered his mask, hearing the cloth scratch between his fingers. "You don't know what I've done." He remembered what happened just a few minutes ago, how he bashed men's heads into walls, his fists stained with red. Matt beat them into oblivion, and now he was sitting in church, with his priest by his side.

God was surely playing with him.

"I've seen the news. How you sent men to hospitals, and-"

"Criminals. They were criminals, Father."

There was a pause in the air. "You don't have to defend your actions. I just need you to… I just need you to know that those criminals are humans, as you and I are. You're playing with lives, Matthew, and that is a very dangerous thing."

He felt Father Lantom's concern radiate off him. The priest's voice was so neutral, so flat that Matt couldn't tell if he was being scorned or cautioned. "I'm just trying to help."

"God will bring justice to the crimes they committed-"

"Justice?" Matt started. His whisper echoed in the empty church. "What about the woman raped last night, Father? Were her cries not loud enough to be heard by God? Or the children, kidnapped from their homes and sold to the highest bidders?" He gasped out the words, praying for an answer. "Was that God's will for them?"

Matt suddenly realized that his voice was raised. Not shouted, but enough to make himself flinch at his mistake. He listened for the priest's heartbeat, waiting for a reaction. Father Lantom's heart was still and patient, his feelings hidden well. "There are some things that can't be answered or understood, Matthew. There's a bigger plan, not only for us, but for the whole world."

Swallowing, Matt spoke under his breath, "Why can't we know for certain?"

"Certain of what? The existence of a higher being, the afterlife?" Father Lantom leaned toward Matt. "Child, certainty is more terrifying than doubt; it's what leads to wars, and each side refuses to compromise because they're convinced that they're right. Sometimes uncertainty is more powerful, sometimes doubt is something to be embraced," he said softly. "And you might never know. Maybe you were part of God's plan for those victims, Matthew."

It wasn't until that morning when Matt realized that Father Lantom wasn't only speaking about doubt in faith, but in his own life, and in his fight between what was good and what was evil.

Suddenly, Matt turned his head toward the door, his eyes wandering into space. "Matthew…" the priest started, but Matt interrupted him.

"Hold on." He stood up slowly, listening to the silent world outside. "I'm sorry, I have to go." Slipping on his mask, Matt folded the blanket and draped it on the pew. He paused, looking over his shoulder to his priest. "Thank you."

"Be careful," was all Father Lantom said. Matt nodded before racing down the center aisle and out the doors. Later the next day, Father Lantom heard of a boy saved by the mysterious man in black, and he couldn't help but smile.

(A/N): Daredevil interprets the Catholic church extremely well, respecting it and discussing moral themes. I'm not trying to reach up to the standards of the show, but I did my best. I'm not Catholic, so if you spot anything wrong please feel free to tell me. This chapter was partly inspired by an interview Andrew Garfield did for his movie Silence where he talks about fasting and faith. More chapters are coming soon, criticism and reviews are welcome.