A/N: SO… Wrapping up this little thing took AGES. And I've gotta admit that I can't remember the last time I would've been this nervous about posting something. (chuckles) A dear friend of mine may just love Mattie even more than I do, so I worked my hardest to make this good for her. (grins)

BUT, before getting to the actual business…!

DISCLAIMER: Seeing my bank-account is believing. I own ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. (POUTS)

WARNINGS: Mentions of injury and blood, possibly a little language, adult themes… Ya know, a SHOCKINGLY short list for something I've typed.

Okay, because there's no point in stalling any longer… LET'S GO! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

The Devil's Bane (is to Be Alone)

Matt Murdock rarely came back from his night-time adventures without at least a part of him in some level of pain. And because going to a hospital or clinic every time he would've needed one would've roused far too much attention he had to figure out how to patch himself up early on. Aside the brief period of time Claire Temple was there to help he was alone with the downsides of his secret life. Which he was perfectly fine with. If there was anything he'd grown used to during his life, it was being alone.

Still, as he gritted his teeth while treating a gunshot wound, Matt couldn't smother the tiny piece inside him that longed to have someone with him. Because… While Daredevil was a lone wolf, for a little while Matt Murdock did have people he considered close to him. Who cared about him. Foggy. Karen. Elektra.

Thinking about her name hurt far worse than getting shot, so he gritted his teeth and pressed harder against the fresh wound to focus on anything else.

It was just a graze, really. Probably looked worse than it actually was. Still, most sane people would've had it treated at a hospital. He didn't have such luxury. Gunshot wounds tend to raise too many unpleasant questions, and you can never be sure about who knows all the wrong people. So he had to make do with what he had. Like he'd always done.

It took far too long to his liking, because despite years of experience patching up wounds isn't easy when he couldn't even see them. When he was finally done he was achy and exhausted. The whole long day's weight crashed down on him with full force, made his shoulders slump with something a little like defeat.

It was the moment after a long night of fighting, when the adrenaline finally faded away and left cold hollowness to his whole body.

Matt wasn't quite sure how he ended up to his bed. But rest was just what he needed, so he lay down and tried to relax. Sleep found him surprisingly quickly. At some point he started dreaming of a warm, comforting hand caressing his cheek. Of lips kissing the top of his head gently.

Matt woke up with a shudder that did his wound no favors when there was a knock. He took a long, shaky breath. The slash of pain that crossed all of him wasn't entirely physical. As soon as he felt composed enough he got up slowly and made his way to the door.

"Matt? Are you in there?" Karen's familiar voice paralyzed him to the spot, his hand left freezing in the middle of motion. Her scent already filled his senses although it was physically impossible, even for him, to distinguish it yet.

She was so much safer without him in her life. Because… As much as he cared about Elektra, he finally realized that he was to Karen what Elektra was to him. Thrill and anguish in the same package that was like a force of nature.

He wanted to save Elektra from herself the same way Karen wanted to rescue him. Now he'd experienced, all too vividly, how that ended. And he couldn't put Karen through the same. That was why he didn't fight for her, for them, even if he could feel that she wanted him to.

Yet now, at his most vulnerable, he reached out a hand and opened the door separating them.

A moment of loaded silence ticked by. Then another. Matt shivered when the scent of Karen's perfume wrapped around him. "Hey."

Karen swallowed thickly. Her heart beat a little too fast. "Hey." She shifted. "You… left some clothes to my place. I thought I should return them."

Matt nodded, wondering what he was supposed to say. He should've probably told her to go home, because it was ridiculously late and she sounded as exhausted as he felt. Instead he felt himself move out of the way to let her enter. Her hand moved towards his with a soft, caress-like breath of air that reminded him of his dream, but she pulled it back before they touched. He took a deep breath and felt his own heart skipping as quickly as hers was. They were in almost perfect sync. Like in some stupid, clichéd love song.

Karen finally spoke, breaking the awkward silence, when he'd closed the door. "I… really came because I heard rumors that the Devil got shot tonight." He felt her watching him. "How badly were you hurt?"

Matt tensed up. His wound protested loudly, and he had to fight hard not to grimace. "Where did you hear that from?" Gunshots draw attention, even in the most hardened parts of New York. Vaguely he remembered hearing people, innocent bystanders.

"I have my sources." Karen's voice was strained while she put down the clothes she mentioned at the door. He almost felt her tension and hated being the cause of it. "Stop avoiding my question."

"I'm fine." And he would be. No matter how badly it might hurt for a while.

He hard Karen working hard to produce a response. What came out in the end… Was it a sob, a gasp or a groan? Even he couldn't tell. "Matt… There's blood and used medical supplies on the floor. You're shaking from pain and bruised. So could you please stop lying to me?" She breathed in loudly, like a drowning person desperate for air. "If… If you don't stop this… One day I'll come here, and you won't be answering the door. This…" She wiped her eyes with an angry gesture. He felt tempted to wonder which one of them she was more furious with. "Matt, don't keep doing this to yourself. And me. And Foggy. Because…" She took a step towards him, then stopped herself sharply. "Because we care about you. And… Whatever it is that makes you put on that suit… We'll help you work through it. We'll help you see that there are other ways to help. Ways that won't get you killed." That was the Karen he'd let far closer than he should've. She wanted to save everyone, even those who weren't saving, those who couldn't be saved. Even those who'd only pull her down to hell with them. One day it'd probably get her killed.

That realization made his heart ache. Especially when he was once again reminded why letting her go was the best thing he could do for her. "Foggy isn't exactly my biggest fan right now", he pointed out. Another friend he planned to keep safe, even from him.

"He's your best friend. He's not giving up on you, either." He could feel her eyes on him once more while she gathered herself. "Daredevil… He's done a lot for New York. But… He's not the only one who can protect the city. So let him go before it's too late. We'll help you."

Karen was most likely the best and kindest person Matt had ever met. Her heart was far too big for her own good. But even though she was looking right at him she didn't see him, understand him.

How was he supposed to turn the figurative blind eye on Hell's Kitchen, aside the literal ones, when he could hear its anguish? They were his people. And this was his home, just as messed up and imperfect as he was. How was he supposed to give up on fighting for them, for it? No matter what it cost him, emotionally and physically.

Daredevil wasn't an addiction. It was who he was, who the city needed him to be. People like Karen who, if the sound of her nervous fingers drumming against metal in her handbag was any indication, now carried a gun. Good people who were desperate to feel safe.

It was almost ironic. People like her were the reason Daredevil existed, and Daredevil was the reason Matt Murdock couldn't give her what they both would've wanted. Because when you're with someone, you can't only give half of yourself. She deserved much better than that.

So he didn't wipe away her tears. Or hug her. He definitely didn't kiss her, either. "Goodnight, Karen. And… Thanks."

It took longer than it should've before she replied. "It was just a pile of clothes." They both knew that he was thanking her for a lot more than that.

No matter how much Matt would've wanted to feel her arms around him he let Karen walk away. He didn't regret Daredevil. But not for the first time he wondered if that part of him was worth the pain it caused.

Matt had never felt quite as lonely as he did when the sound of his apartment's door closing echoed in his aching skull.

End

A/N: That poor dear…! (sighs)

SOOOOO... How was that? ANY good, AT ALL? Because I'm REALLY nervous and anxious to hear your opinion. (chuckles nervously)

In any case, THANK YOU, so much, for reading! And, whoever knows… Maybe I'll see you around later?

Take care!