A/N: Pre-edited by Girlwithoutfear. Isn't that nice?

Matt found himself running. He closed his eyes, hoping to keep the tears from coming, letting his feet take charge, not caring where he was headed.

His feet led him to the public library. He walked through the huge doors, determinately wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. He made a beeline to the historical biographies, his eyes scanning the stacks, searching for his favorite about Tsar Nicholas Romanov, the last Tsar of Russia. That way, if anyone saw him crying, he could just say it was the book.

Matt stayed at the library devouring books as if they were the only things keeping him together, barely moving for three hours, only coming up for air to get a new biography.

The librarian watched him silently. She knew Matt; he'd been coming to the library since he learned to read. She also knew she had to lock up soon, but she couldn't bring herself to disturb the teenage boy.

Finally, a couple of minutes before she would be forced to close the library, the librarian sat down next to Matt.

"Matthew, you've always been into books, but this is ridiculous." She winced; it had come out harsher than she'd wanted. "Do you want to talk?"

Matt looked up. All his tears had dried up long ago, but the librarian could see that his eyes were still slightly puffy. "Matt. What happened?" The librarian took in his fat lip. "Did your father do something?"

Matt jumped up, his face livid. "Don't ever say that to me! My father wouldn't lay a hand on me!" He charged out of the empty library, leaving the librarian in stunned silence.

oooooo

It was just starting to get dark. Matt stopped to catch his breath. All the running! Matt hadn't run so much in his life, but he wasn't tired. The endorphins had kicked in and his muscles were laughing in pleasure.

Matt took a moment to listen and gauge his surroundings. Little did he know, Matt would regret having stopped, would wish that he'd never heard the truck or seen the blind man inching across the street.

The truck was speeding, swerving down the street like a drunkard. The blind man hadn't noticed, but Matt did. He instinctively knew the man was going to get hit.

He was running again in an instant, practically soaring over objects. Witnesses would later swear the boy had been flying. Matt charged into the man. Suddenly the man was the one flying and Matt was falling.

The truck swerved a the very last second and smashed into a lamppost. Matt heard the drivers screaming something, and saw the cab of the truck burst into flames. In slow motion, Matt watched a canister of whatever it had been transporting fall from the bed of the truck.

His eyes opened wide as the canister exploded. For a frozen second, Matt found himself marveling at the beautiful colors that swam in front of his eyes. Then the moment was over and a searing pain coursed down his spine. He opened his mouth in a silent scream and the pain knocked him unconscious.

ooooo

Jack was drunk. After Matt stormed out the door, Jack had realized what he'd done. His own father had been abusive, and Jack had promised himself that his son would never feel like he had. Now he realized he'd failed.

Matt's mother left when Matt was barely a week old, but Jack had told him that she'd died. The result was the same; he'd raised Matt by himself. There had been some rough times, but as a whole, he thought he'd done well. He'd forbidden Matt to slack off. He'd congratulated every A and listened through most rants. He loved his son and he wanted him to have a better life and education than his had been.

Jack had dropped out of high school and become a boxer. When his drinking became too noticeable, his manager had dumped him, leaving him little choice but to become a hired thug. Matt knew his father wasn't a boxer anymore, but he didn't know any details. Jack couldn't bear to tell him where the money for food came from. For all his son knew - or he hoped his son knew, he was working odd jobs around the dock.

The ringing phone knocked Jack out of his quest to reach the bottom of the scotch bottle. He lifted himself out of the chair, wiping his teary eyes with a grubby sleeve.

Jack sniffed again, pulling himself together. "Hello?"

"Are you Mr. Jonathon Murdock?"

A cold hand grabbed Jack's throat. "Yeah, why?"

"Mr. Murdock, my name is Jane Bradford, I'm calling from Empire State Hospital…"

Jack dropped the phone. Suddenly he was sober. The woman must have continued to talk, but all Jack registered was that his son was in the emergency room. He didn't hang up the phone. Before the woman noticed he was gone, he was hailing a cab, the apartment door swinging dejectedly on its hinges

ooooo

Jack jumped out of the cab, not even caring about the fare or that he forgot his change. He charged up to the information desk and panted, "My son… Matthew Murdock…"

The nurse nodded kindly, obviously used to such a sight. "He's in surgery. If you take a seat, you can wait to talk to his surgeon."

"No! I want to see my son!"

"I understand that, but you are just going to have to wait." Jack wanted to punch the lady and go looking for his son, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He headed to a chair, trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that Matt was going to be fine. He kept thinking about how Matt had raced out of the apartment earlier, and before he realized it, the man who had intimidated more people than the IRS was crying into his hands.

Hours later, a voice woke up Jack . "Mr. Murdock? I need to talk to you."

Jack jerked awake. "Where's my boy?"

"He's in the recovery room, Mr. Murdock."

"What happened to him?" Jack's voice cracked. The news that Matt was in recovery was only a small comfort.

"Your son is very brave. He saved that man's life at great cost to his own."

Jack froze. The doctor's last sentence sent a shiver of dread down his spine despite the rush of pride and love. "What do you mean 'cost to his own'?" His voice cracked, "You said he was recovering." He was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.

"Well Mr. Murdock, I'm afraid something's happened to your son--"

"I know that! Why do you think I came?" Jack took a deep breath, trying and failing to rein in his emotions. "What happened?"

"As I was going to say, we're not totally sure. What we can tell you is there's still a chance he might not -- well -- be blind. We've done what we can." The doctor sat down, silently hinting that the hulking father should sit down again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock." He patted Jack on the back, causing Jack to flinch. He was beyond numb.

"When can I see him?" Jack's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I need to see my son."

"We have him sedated. The pain will be too much for him," the doctor swallowed at the look on Jack's face, "but you can see him in about two hours." He looked down, "If you want to go home and come back later--"

Once again, Jack interrupted. "I'm not going anywhere without Mattie!"

"I understand. If there's someone you need to call, there's a payphone across the hall." He paused again. "And Mr. Murdock? I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Ten minutes later, Jack took a deep breath and fed a couple of coins into the payphone. He dialed a number. He'd stared at that number so many times after Matt had shown up on his doorstep. As soon as it was answered, he said, "I need to talk to Maggie."